Poem.Furry acrobat

I’ve seen you, squirrel, when you’ve found the nuts you’ve buried underground.

There’s sparrow, pigeon, tit and crow, some on the holders, some below.

The choice is there of feeders three, each on the branch of the fir tree.

The first, a treat of suet fat. The blue tits like to hang on that.

The next a cage with seed inside, ‘It’s squirrel proof’ declared the guide.

Another suet treat hangs there, three balls, to get them you must dare

To leave the fence, a gymnast be-your tail curled round the leafy tree.

You hang suspended upside down, alone, now that the birds have flown

And now your efforts bring reward-you can add suet to your hoard.

squirrel acrobat

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Reading poetry

Out at the Willows folk club last night to hear a great set from Cadillac Country. I had dug out a couple of old poems in case there was time and Evette squeezed me in.

Once again I forgot to take my camera and I don’t use a smart phone so there are no pictures, suffice to say Brian Winslade and his band were brilliant, such a variety of country and 60’s numbers, including two from an almostElvis! We had a couple of Jim Reeves songs that we all joined in with and, all in all, a fun time was had by all.

The poem caused some reaction as the area I wrote about was familiar to one or two people in the audience. It was written about an incident in about 1950.

Unforgettable

The day I had the slipper’s etched for ever in my brain

That morning I’d not gone to school, I’d not do that again!

That day we had a mental test and I was scared of sums

But hiding in my own garden, now, that was really dumb!

The school alerted mother and she worried where I’d gone

But I was just behind the hedge, too frightened to go home.

They found me soon and then I felt my father’s rage and spite-

He set me down upon his knee and Spanked – to teach me right.

I never ran away again, least, not ’till I was grown

Then, goodbye old grey gas works and crowded terraced homes.

I left the old canal-side that had allotments on,

I left the streets that trolley buses one -time drove along,

I left the past behind me, as people need to do

But I’ll not forget the day that I was slippered –  well,would you?

 

Turbines

Across the far horizon, slim and proud

Waiting for wind to turn their bladed arms

They stand, unbending in their simple beauty

Evoking a memory of flour mills

When Jack and Jill ground corn upon the Downs

Delightful in their practicality

Their movement and their shape both treasured now.

Yet we are blind to the pure elegance

Of regiments of turbines out at sea

A blot upon the landscape, it is claimed

Yet, in the future, they may be admired

As pinnacles of artistic design

As needed as the mills of yesterday,

A symbol of man’s ingenuity.

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