World Cup Wisdom*

Welcome to the World Stage… The football has begun! -Whatever you may think of it, Wouldn’t it be great if we won?! Though contemporary etiquette Suggests it’s easy to forget Reputations won and lost At the hand of each successive boss: Names and numbers big on shirts And never mind how much it hurts, Each […]

One Minute*

One minute’s silence may be all we have To show solidarity with strangers in grief: A heartfelt, if wordless, communication To those affected, still seeking relief From all the marks of experience that only they will know Engraved like tattoos, deep under the skin, A pain that may not even show. Except perhaps to others […]

Spring Things*

There are just a few signs of spring in my yard: The earth still resting, clogged and hard With weeds of all sorts taking up the challenge To wreak their bold, unfettered revenge, Presuming (rightly, one might suppose) They’ll see no trouble from the rose, A plant of sentimental worth While firmly rooted in the […]

Cause for Celebration*

Happy Birthday Meesiz Feench! I hope it’s been a goodun- Glad to see you’re catchin’ up With all us other old’ns… It really isn’t quite that bad Adding on another year… You’re way back there at the end of the queue So there really isn’t that much to fear: At least the sun is shining […]

Monarchic Malarkey*

National and international media proclaim The birth of a British prince,until tonight with no name.. Though leaving little room to breech Tradition, Monikers aplenty vying for position, Already effortlessly infinite Assisted by Jo Public’s wit… George, Charles, Edward, James, Among the most distinguished names, Each in their era, of noble descent. One wonders how much […]

Seasonal Slumber*

There are just a few signs of spring in my yard: The earth still resting, clogged and hard With weeds of all sorts taking up the challenge To wreak their bold, unfettered revenge, Presuming (rightly, one might suppose) They’ll see no trouble from the rose, A plant of sentimental worth While firmly rooted in the […]

Dear*

I wonder if my mum knows today is in her honour? I dare say not, on account her demeanour. Her mind surrendered to history’s burden, Telling the same stories over again, Crying like a child with the sheer frustration Of knowing the nature of this situation. Yet, in brief moments of clear blue sky, Still […]