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bozzz's (bozzz on UKA) UKArchive
316 Archived submissions found.
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My French cousin - her viewpoint (posted on: 08-07-16)
Headlines from my French cousin. I hope to reply to comments this time including 'beg to differ' ones.

My French cousin in despair, ''UK going nowhere fast''. Lived in England all her life ''Brexit folly cannot last''. ''Dementia patients now in charge, will run the asylum to its end. Danger, madmen now at large. Poverty just round the bend. Let the Britons eat their cake, their Marionette May to have a try; starvation beckons in her wake, eat our votes before we die. The labour left wing can't complain, they voted with their blindfolds on with Corbyn muddled yet again, also going going. gone? Gove and Johnson both 'put down', Tories left to search their herd. Theresa yes, but sans a crown; another lady? That's absurd ! Vive la France and Holland[e] too, neither knowing what to do, Merkel waits VW's song, maybe then they'll rub along. Naked Blair seeks nudist home as Chilcot tables stripping tome Britain's reputation fled, first the 'Leave' vote idiot's game, then Iraq war, thousands dead; at last the world knows who to blame!'' David July 2016
Archived comments for My French cousin - her viewpoint
gwirionedd on 08-07-2016
My French cousin - her viewpoint
With respect to your cousin, if she is French, then this has nothing to do with her...

I can't tell you how happy I am, that our country has broken free from this totalitarian leviathan. I will laugh and laugh and laugh if the French do the same.


Author's Reply:
Sadly the naiveity of the less well-informed poor and elderly has brought pending disaster for the British economy. No my friend, your idea that the EU is a dictatorship errant arrant nonsense. A cumbersome democracy, yes, but nothing more…///David

gwirionedd on 08-07-2016
My French cousin - her viewpoint
Were Juncker and Rompuy elected?




Author's Reply:
Probably no more than do the top advisors at No 10. The real question is 'Do théy have a vote' on anything? D

gwirionedd on 09-07-2016
My French cousin - her viewpoint
Well, clearly they are powerful and influential in the EU Parliament anyhow.

The basic problem I have is that laws proposed by the UK Parliament can be overturned by the EU. This relegates our country to nothing more than a non-sovereign province of an all-powerful superstate.

Didn't you fight in the Second World War, David? I thought that your generation fought so that Britain could be free and able to determine its own destiny. Not to become a province of a multinational empire dominated by Germany.

I love Germany, I lived there for three years and I speak German. But I don't want them having any control or influence over the British people. The British government should be the ultimate authority in Britain. Anything else is a betrayal of our sovereignty and the people who fought and died for it. In my humble opinion.

And I don't like the idea that tens of thousands of possible jihadists and rapists, and people who despise the West in general, will soon be able to come to Britain just because an insane bitch like Angela Merkel thinks it's a good idea to invite hundreds of thousands of such people to come to Europe. Nope. Not having it, mate. Out out out. The vote is cast, democracy has had its way, the British people have spoken, and the Remainers ought to be graceful and accept defeat and respect the democratic decision. Sorry, old chap, but your people lost. No hard feelings though. Let's get back to making Britain great.

Remember, there's always Scotland. They're welcome to declare """independence""" and stay in the EU if that's what they want. Good luck to them with that.



Author's Reply:
I am impressed by your arguments but still feel we should remain and fight within the EU. Yes, I fought the Germans in ww2, but would trust Merkel to see fair play. Sorry friend but it would take me far too long to read your piece. My sight is so poor
Yours, David

Supratik on 09-07-2016
My French cousin - her viewpoint
David, I am thrilled to read you here again. Thank you. Please keep them coming, they are not only interesting, but intellectually stimulating too. Best. Supratik

Author's Reply:
Thank you good friend for your kind welcome. I will try to stay the course but it will be a struggle
Yours David

stormwolf on 09-07-2016
My French cousin - her viewpoint
David! How happy I am to see you back!
I agree with Archie I am afraid.
Never mind, let's make hay while the sun shines. Nobody knows what's waiting round the corner and I feel the light has been shone in the darkness so at least that is good.
Take good care, will write soon.
Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
Thanks Alison. Too many false prophets and liars around in the Brexit camp fo my liking, more pain on the horizon. I still wish Scotland success in its desire to leave the UK. O
You and I will be long gone, but I pray for the world's survival after the button is pressed
Very best wishes...David

Pronto on 15-07-2016
My French cousin - her viewpoint
Whereas the poem was well constructed and made its point clearly I cannot agree with a single word of its negative message. Never have I read such arrant nonsense. Its not about the last war or anything like that. We Brits have been building democracy since the signing of the Magna Carta. Why should we hand over 800 years of blood sweat and tears to unelected bureaucrats whom we cannot get rid of at the ballot box? That makes the EU a dictatorship. A benign one (At the moment)maybe but a dictatorship nonetheless.

The EU is the biggest Ponzi scheme of all time with members drawing out more than they put in. it cannot last but all it's vainglorious leaders can think about is maintaining the status quo and their own aggrandisement. Like all Ponzi schemes it is doomed to fail.

Self deluded people cannot see what is plainly happening. Greece's basket case economy, Spain and Italy faltering under unplayable debts and sky high unemployment. Eire putting a brave face on its troubles, too.
The European banks now urgently need propping up to the tune of billions of Euros simply to avoid collapse.

Germany is causing all sorts of cultural problems by trying to integrate too many people too quickly. They are building huge problems for the future. The signs are already writ large.

The lunacy of the EU parliament traipsing from Brussels to Strasbourg every two weeks simply to pander to the vanity of one member.

In contrast the UK has given the world many of its greatest inventions: Railways, the jet engine, penicillin, radio, radar the computer, the Internet, not to mention the hovercraft and lately graphite a product of huge potential. We are a vibrant, self reliant people who have survived great upheavals and will continue to survive. Stop looking at the next five years of difficulty and look instead at the next one hundred and fifty five years.
Rant over.

Author's Reply:


The Pothole Poem (posted on: 27-06-16)
A brief start, a simple piece. I am now blind. Please do not expect a reply to comments yet at half an hour per line to type and correct it will take me too long to reply Thank you. P.S. Oh Trevor, what have you done! Patrotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel and n early half of the less intelligent did not realise the consequences of what they were voting for and swallowed yor snake oil merchants misleading half-truths. ''Shame on you Brexitors". Please sort immediately! My best Wishes !! David

The Ministry of Transport holds them dear, the rhythms of the ancient track appear 'Look right, look left, look right again' and into hole we go; the annual training in exasperation for next year's traffic cuts to come In 'Pothole A', there's time for rape From 'Pothole B' there's no escape then in 'C' a puncture cure and as for 'C', new wheel for sure. But what of 'Z', no more be said, the Minister's message is in your head. David June 2016
Archived comments for The Pothole Poem
Gothicman on 27-06-2016
The Pothole Poem
With much sympathy for your setback to your health, David, it is so good to see your name again, and I enjoyed the novelty and content of this poem, written under so much duress. Wishing you well my friend.

But, oh David, how cruel you are to this man of truth, justice, and peace! The Brexit solution, on my part had nothing to do with flag waving, but was the only healthy tool available to halt the hitherto rising Franco-German Imperialism, the insidious move towards the establishment of a revengeful 4th Reich by sneaky power-politics and single currency corruption and manipulation, the secret election of nine undemocratically-elected lifetime EU-Presidents, 10,000 sporadically-attending eurocrats earning more than Britain's Prime Minister, hundreds of millions of euros disappearing without trace every year, the unfair and biased new legislation, directives, grants, and development funds that discriminate against some nations while bringing advantages to others, the childish imperialistic mentality of moving backwards and forwards from Strasbourg to Brussels every month! (costs £150 million pounds a year!).

But also on the home front, the draining effect on financial and structural resources, the rapid dilution and destruction of the physical environment, the hard-won life-style, principles, civil and democratic values, that are part of a person's national identity, which are in themselves part of personal identity and the individual's psychical well-being, things that bring inner strength by keeping personality durable, all factors that are threatened by uncontrolled immigration, especially when the immigrants come from entirely different cultural backgrounds with pathetic religions that are based on alienating political/social ideology, that is, ones that are far more than just personal spirituality!

The ordinary decent, hard-working people, indigenous enough to have at least two previous generations who sacrificed lives in two Teutonic Wars, and who have directly suffered the negative global effects of a ridiculous free-movement Europe on not just their simple economy, but also on the basic requirements for maintaining minimum standards for normal living, permanent jobs with adequate wages, housing, schools for their children, effective health-care, and a localised cultural identity as part of their hard-won inheritance, they were given the chance to voice their grievances. This expression from the real heart of the Nation was gold worth, and not an ignorant, uneducated error of judgement by the masses!

London, going against the trend, shows you just how much the capital has become cosmopolitan, rich foreigners who have become British Nationals, and who make up such a large portion of the resident population, as opposed to the commuting, working population, and who are so misaligned, so protected from the negative effects on daily life caused by EU membership, that the rest of the nation have to suffer.

Okay, that cess-pit cover, Sinn Fein, will encourage those cold-murdering criminals, the contentious IRA fractions, to creep out of the woodwork, and cause mayhem, commit atrocities, at the border and beyond again, and the 60% of the Scottish population, the treacherous, disillusioned soul-sellers to corrupt Europe for 80 pieces of silver, and a barrel of low-price oil, will need to be saved from a dishonourable, impoverished discharge by, mentally, gradually learning to become British subjects again, and less self-good and selfish!. That obnoxious career politician, Sturgeon, should be stripped naked, shaved bald, covered in mud and feathers, and trundled to the Traitor's Gate at the Tower, in a wooden cart! Either that, or be given a Baronesshood, and parked out of harm's way in the House of Lords!

I must reiterate how so glad and warmed I am by seeing your name today. You cannot imagine the enormous respect and admiration I have for you during these difficult times.
Trevor


Author's Reply:

Gothicman on 28-06-2016
The Pothole Poem
Rest assured David,

with this pathetic Establishment weasel Hunt entering from stage right, as part of a contingency plan to find a detour round democratic principles and the will of the British people in an open referendum with clear rules and agreed consequences, all honour and political worthiness will be lost, as Britain yields to economical defeat, and accedes to becoming another lap-dog (like France, Holland, Sweden et al) to German supremacy and control of Europe. The Continental Eurocrats will finally fulfil the Master Race aspirations of their Nazi grandparents without even firing a shot! No wonder those two reminders of German slaughter and atrocity, The Brandenburg Gate with its Quadriga, and the Reichstag building with its Dem Deutschen Volke have been retained as suitable symbols of a continued strife towards dominance! If British politicians crawl back to Berlin as beggars now, what an insult it would be if they were to lay wreaths at the Cenotaph later this year! Shame on liberated Europe for letting this insidious situation to continue to develop behind closed doors!

There will, of course, be civil and religious wars.......at some point...



Author's Reply:

Supratik on 28-06-2016
The Pothole Poem
I am glad to see your name here again. As usual, a very intelligent read. Yours, Supratik

Author's Reply:

Mikeverdi on 29-06-2016
The Pothole Poem
Pleased to see you writing again David, never a dull moment with your words HaHa!
Mike

Author's Reply:

Pronto on 29-06-2016
The Pothole Poem
I'm also pleased to see you writing again David and so sorry to hear of your affliction.
I must say though that I agree wholeheartedly with Trevor. For me the choice was simple: Do I wish to live in a democracy or not? It's now up to us to ensure the politicians deliver whilst their rocking on the back foot we have to show the bastards we mean business.

Author's Reply:

Ionicus on 29-06-2016
The Pothole Poem
I see that you haven't lost your acerbic wit, David.
Obviously opinions have been divided but only time will reveal if the right decision was made.
Do not worry unduly and take care of your health.

Best wishes, Luigi

Author's Reply:

pdemitchell on 30-06-2016
The Pothole Poem
I echo the above, David. The shades may fall but ever the vision sharpens. Great piece. Thoughts are with you. I have blind colleagues and friends who inspire me. When you see someone read two braille texts simultaneously with both hands, you see hope for the species! Mitch

Author's Reply:

pommer on 03-07-2016
The Pothole Poem
Hi David,
It is so good to see you active once again,but I am sad to hear of your new affliction. I can feel for you having worked with a medical colleague who became blind at an earlier age and who had to change a complete working style.
I like your poem, good as always.As far as the comments about Brexit etc,I am unable at present to comment my self.I am in no way sitting on the fence, having my own ideas, but being an alien in this country who is not eligible to vote allows me to sit back and to try to reason out a sensible answer without my inborn German paranoia influencing my. thoughts.(HA,Ha.)
At present I am still having treatment,and I am not always finding the time to do much,also being a full time carer for my dear wife.I shall let you know what i think as soon as I can, and I do understand that you are not necessary able to comment.
With best wishes to you and yours,
Your friend Peter.


Author's Reply:


The Gaga State (posted on: 25-03-16)
Obey the Gods and conditional deathbed conversion is always possible

First symptom of the state, we live in dread, a poet's block that suffocates the brain. 'Write about it' says the empty head, still nothing comes in consequence, but pain. All poets live the perilled life, resigned, to edge of nowhere, nothing on the page; the prayer for words unanswered by the mind, the shame of failure terminates in rage. We scratch around the universe in thought, dig deep, but plumb the depths without reward. The Mojo, absent friend of last resort, has fled the scene, our pleading is ignored. Three verses here, they all say much the same, no 'third time lucky' brings the magic back, the Gaga Syndrome sings it's deadly strain, ''You're mine at last, one more to fill my sack''. The precipice of commonsense has claimed, you fall, the cabbage life awaits below, the Valley of the Silent guards the maimed, a graveyard next the only place to go. But who should stay your fall and spread her net? Minerva, in her kindness saw your plight, laid out for you her roman alphabet, held you to her bosom in mid-flight. ''Mandamus habeas corpus'', as he fell, ''The poet shall be saved from death this time, to write again, escape a living hell, provided all his work shall be in rhyme''. David March 2016
Archived comments for The Gaga State
Supratik on 25-03-2016
The Gaga State
'First symptom of the state, we live in dread,
a poet’s block that suffocates the brain.
‘Write about it’ says the empty head,
still nothing comes in consequence, but pain.'

I could see a glimpse of Kierkegaard here, in the entire stanza.
The poem brilliantly brings out the conditions of life, its conditioning included. Poets, in my opinion, are still peripheral, mentally they reside outside habitation, around the Globe theater.
You seem to have found a way out in the last stanza albeit with a condition.
The poem has also reminded me of the lines of Beckett pretty dear to me:
"Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better."
Supratik



Author's Reply:
Kierkegard, you flatter me! But yes, that we learn from the past but have to live in the future is appropriate for my poem - my thanks for that kind and accurate thought. As to finding a way out, the profligate number of the ancient gods, be they Roman or Greek, are always offering escape from disaster. My thanks for you comment. good friend...David

Mikeverdi on 25-03-2016
The Gaga State
Ahhh David, you write of things we all know so well, and you write about them so well....that's the difference HaHa!
Keep it up old friend.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Sorry for delay. Well I guess it is all about having a girl friend called Minerva as a fall girl rather than a call girl. Oh dear, my corny old age showing. Thanks anyway Mike and trust you will soon be on your old friend chemo soon. My best to you both, David.

franciman on 25-03-2016
The Gaga State
A whimsical end to such a beautiful, crafted and lyrical poem, David. You show us how rhyming poetry should be; the looped lines, the smooth structure. Then you crow your triumph at the end?
OK, I get the point, lol!
cheers,
jim

Author's Reply:
Well I guess the Roman gods knew no better than to write in rhyme, though god knows how with all those impossible words to contend with. The crow was only that I had luckily found an escape clause from an otherwise dull poem. Thanks Jim for those kind words...David

Gothicman on 25-03-2016
The Gaga State
Yes, David,
the shrinking brain echoes the synonyms of end-sounds so well! Hahaha! Perpetuation reigns supreme with your brilliant pen! Inspired to write a poem about writer's block is like fighting for peace, or hauling a log round with you to sit on when tired of dragging it! I think what you're saying here is more about how subs are received by the masses rather than their quality as literary creations.
It is a shame the two don't always correlate. You are a master of poetry's primary variation, precise rhyme, keeping every word relevant and without being compromised in order to fit in and function as intended, with perhaps the one quality missing being the subtlety of "mystery"? The read as always much enjoyed my friend.
Trevor

Author's Reply:
Aha Trevor, yes the missing element that dogs my work - the engineer that will not permit any double- entendres - all must be as clear as mud on clay. You have hit the nail, but how can I change? Perhaps a sonnet or two may be worth trying - I did write some to Meg while I was courting her but I think that side of my Mojo disappeared after I had learned of the compressive effects of Bernoulli's equation. Egad, I will do my best, though it may flounder in the mystery of waddling age rather than in the spring of youth. But now to thank you for pointing it out - it is so true and my mantra that all must be crystal clear to the reader is now to be thrown overboard. Start from scratch Bozzz. Let us see what happens. but give me time. My very best to you...david (capital letter abandoned in remorse)!

stormwolf on 25-03-2016
The Gaga State
Hi David
All poets live the perilled life, resigned,
to edge of nowhere, nothing on the page;
the prayer for words unanswered by the mind,
the shame of failure terminates in rage.

We scratch around the universe in thought,
dig deep, but plumb the depths without reward.
The Mojo, absent friend of last resort,
has fled the scene, our pleading is ignored.

Fab writing. Meticulous attention to metre and rhyme, you show us how it's done!
I think many of us can relate to this. You are amazing and I am always in awe. How you manage to keep writing this calibre of poem when you are dealing with serious health issues,is an inspiration.Congrats on the nib too
Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Dear Alison, you come and go and each time plant some more jewels on the page - so the question is how do you do it rather than me, because you are not free of nature's less welcome bodily gifts either. And even then then you make time for the helpful crits to emerge. If it was you that awarded the nib, my thanks for that too. Trevor rightly says that my stuff lacks mystery and he is dead right - so I will try my hand in that sense for a change - probable disaster looms! My love and thanks...David

pdemitchell on 25-03-2016
The Gaga State
Hi David. From poet block as a source of inspiration to cabbages and precipices in well-metered ABAB quatrains and a classical reference to boot. So good on so many levels. Paul

Author's Reply:
Hi Paul, as ever, your succinct and pungent comments are always welcome. I suspect that your approach is rather similar to mine in that one starts to write without quite knowing where one will mend up. Thank you my friend....David


Not about you or me, of course (posted on: 14-03-16)    
A kind of atheistic sadness


There's only two types in the world, The 'righters' and the 'wrongers'. The righters rub the earth along, The wrongers are the bombers. The former gently greet the spring, the daffodils in bloom. The latter plant explosive nigh the building, now a tomb. One god; ten versions of each creed, with tongue and sword and pen, some fight, some kill and maim their kin, preach goodwill among men. Hypocrisy, thy name is clear, yet spread from holy floor, the folly of religious souls intent on peace through war. Christians, Jews and Islamists, all have one aim in mind. Competitive for market share, their quest for humankind. From proselytising childhood babes, as practised in our homes, to forcing god on captive slaves, religion through their tomes. The 'deathwatch' public sit in awe while crime and battles rage. The media hide the worst of it, the gore escapes the page. But in our name these horrors breed, the guilty live next door. Humans in religious chains, from cot to coffin floor. David March 2016

Archived comments for Not about you or me, of course
e-griff on 14-03-2016
Not about you or me, of course
An example of how to write. Concise, meaningful, neatly wrapped. Good ending. Impressive.

Author's Reply:
Hi John. Pluses from you mean a great deal - greatly appreciated - my thanks...David
If the nib came from you, even more thanks. D

Supratik on 14-03-2016
Not about you or me, of course
I absolutely second the first comment. A poem like this has the potential to change the mindset of a large section of deluded population. A well-deserved nib. Yours, Supratik

Author's Reply:
Thank you Supratik for your encouragement in our quest. Not sure whether what we publish in AKA will have too much effect on the world, sadly not enough people read our stuff, a few hundred mostly though I did once get to 1000 a few years back. My best wishes to you good friend...David

Ionicus on 14-03-2016
Not about you or me, of course
A powerful argument, David, though unlikely to change the mindset of the deluded population that Supratik mentions, I am afraid.
Very good writing, as always.

Best, Luigi

Author's Reply:
Hi Luigi, yes you are right - a poem on these pages is but a straw in the wind, but that need not mean we should stop trying. Much of your own writing is in same frame - critical and often very amusing. We enjoy doing it. Thank you and my best to you....David

Gothicman on 14-03-2016
Not about you or me, of course
Like all critical writings protesting against and helping to publicize the madness, unfairness, or wrongdoings in this world, David, this superb rhyme poem does its job well in spreading further the important message you and I have been returning to again and again. You continue to highlight the manifest problems associated with religious fervour and the capitalist systems that profit by promoting it all. I paid even more attention to the root cause and suggested a meaningful cure, but, of course, even when pushing out the messages loud and clear, whether a piece of creative writing, well-written or otherwise, will have any effect on the population, or swing opinion, is not even usually debateable, and is this case is almost certainly a lost cause anyway, as the religiously afflicted, inherently incapable of being objective, are going to try to afflict others too from birth again with this archaic madness in the name of group belongingness! The final verse says this so eloquently. I especially liked your last poem, which you unfortunately took off before I could get back to comment on it. But this nominated and into favourites for me. Brilliant rhyme.
Best...Trevor

Author's Reply:
Hi Trevor, I do so appreciate your measured and logical responses. Yes we are together in highlighting the follies of religious mankind. Please do remind me of where you had put forward the root cause and above all, the suggested meaningful cure. I probably did I miss that in my increasingly numerous memory lapses. I would love to be with you on such a road too. My own thought on it in this country would be the banning of religious proselytising of children under 16 as a start, but although a poll suggested that more than 50% in the UK said they no longer believed in a god, I doubt whether we are quite ready for that yet. Immigrants will probably tip the balance against it. My best wishes...David

pommer on 14-03-2016
Not about you or me, of course
A great well expressed poem,David.I particularly liked the third very apt verse,and the great ending.What a world we live in>best wishes David, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Dear Peter, my thanks for your kind comment. I was a bit concerned that the poem might upset you for I believe you are on the religious side. I know Christianity is among the least warlike religions, but in the UK proselytising to children is still rife. We really need to let them get to 16 and then make their choices as adults. My best wishes to you both...David

pdemitchell on 14-03-2016
Not about you or me, of course
The last two lines tail off the poetic barrel-bomb. Ka-boom. Well writ. Paul

Author's Reply:
UKA accused of dropping barrel bombs on innocent poets - what a good headline. Thanks Paul

Mikeverdi on 15-03-2016
Not about you or me, of course
I can only add my congratulations to the list, this is one of your very best David. Please don't delete this one.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike for that. Tell the truth I intended to delete the poem as not good enough, but forgot I had left it in submission. Big surprise when I saw it on Monday morning. Ah well, one is often a bad judge of one's own work. Keep wielding your bat my friend. I will now lay low for a bit.
Yours aye, David

sweetwater on 15-03-2016
Not about you or me, of course
I too agree with all above comments, and think the last two lines are real stunners. Sue 🙂

Author's Reply:
Well Sue, my thanks for your words, I had intended that the second line of the last verse to be Paul's barrel bomb, but I am more than happy to settle for your opinion. Secular blessings..David

Supratik on 17-03-2016
Not about you or me, of course
My friendly advice to you would be to not count the physical number... just keep on planting the seed, doing what you are most convinced about... I would never say god to you (I wouldn't dare you bet... but you're kind enough I know, at least with the likes of Meg), but there is some kind of intelligence David that'd take care of the numbers. Cheers! Supratik

Author's Reply:
Hi Supratik, Some among us need the feeling that there is an intelligence out there - so be it. As an atheist I feel that there is nothing but chance in the numbers game. Meg and I have been married for 66 years. She is Church of England and we rub along in happiness together. In a survey in England now there are more people who say they do not believe in a god than those who say they still believe - yet most will still want to go to church to be married! My best...David

Supratik on 24-03-2016
Not about you or me, of course
Dear David, I think I owe you an apology for sending vibrations of pride... this is a dangerous virus that's creating havoc in this world. The outburst of this pride, for me in trying to project myself as being spiritual, comes from an untrained mind, which is me in this context. There is absolutely no need in trying to impose my perception of looking at the world. Your view of looking at the world is perfect and so is mine... I, in my own humble way, am trying to look at a possibility of bringing everyone at the same table, liberals and radicals, theists and atheists so unitedly we could come to a consensus of doing away with wars, with weapons, and look at the blunder I have done. I am deeply sorry. Everyone, every human being needs to be just as they are as long as they concur to end wars. Yours, Supratik

Author's Reply:


A kind of learning curve? (posted on: 29-02-16)
Does death teach us anything about life? A poem in support of Supratik, my friend.

The straggled feathers of the vultures poise to land, enquire of death or life maybe, of stricken ape, who in its plight enjoys, the twilight of the fading chimpanzee. A peck, no sound, another and another, a knell of silence echoes 'cross the plain, then suddenly one hand and then the other, they grab the greedy beaks and take the strain. Two screeching birds, their heads adroop cry out, the final squawks, the gargling of their end, the scent of coming man is thereabout, the logic of the kill the years portend. In WW2 the German early quest brought vanity and greed with empire dreams. A verst, a mile, too far to East and West, they died in panzer pincers from extremes. The Isil apes that bring the death of all who do not vow allegiance to their cause, oe'rstretch their means to prey beyond the wall, will meet their end in democratic claws. The House of Commons votes its evil through. The Lords sit quiet, seek truth with open mind, 'A cut too deep, they say, avoid the jungle view, you can't behave like that, we are mankind'! David February 2016
Archived comments for A kind of learning curve?
Supratik on 29-02-2016
A kind of learning curve?
David! Brilliant. And thank you for the support. I am humbled. Yours, Supratik

Author's Reply:
Hi Supratik. Before thanking you I have waited a while to see what response would come to my poem. The comment from Sue tells me that I was a touch too obscure in conveying all my meanings and that in turn, tells I must look again. It is for me to be humble not you. My piece was merely an attempt to follow your leads. My best again...David

Gothicman on 29-02-2016
A kind of learning curve?
Dear David,

we evolved further from chimps when domestic fire use, warming our caves, caused fur to atrophy, and the new-born to lose grip at the hitherto readily-assessable breast and be laid in hay while its mother cut up mammoths.

Frustration at this threatened death by abandonment, by this merciless giver of Life, causing anger and all wars thereafter, came then out of Africa too, when delayed satisfaction brought the need to split this comforting, but troublesome breast, into a good-and-bad dichotomy. simply to gain control over an unpredictable object, and a more advanced subject-object memory ststem was thus developed. All hairless monkeys eventually becoming human beings.

Mother, an indigenous Scot back to clay-effigy McAdam of Dunoon, was hairy, so I'm still a semi-illiterate kilted ape, well fed, but, struggling hard to become Poet Laureate, and accepted buffoon-baboon member of SNP-Brexit!

Your super poem explains my failure to leave both the breast, and Europe, and my aping about, so well.

Yours faithfully
Trevor af Dunoon


Author's Reply:

Dear Friend, dear kilted half Scottish, near Laureate poet and whatever, I am still laughing at your delightful pulsating comment. I am sure the invention of clothes was the more likely cause of our loss of hair - the constant rubbing process? Clearly the development of the kilt was northern nature’s attempt to reverse the process – hence the legendary ‘Billy Connolly well-hungness’ of your Scottish forbears which I trust has been included among the many gifts awarded to you from above. Demonstration email not required, thank you – you would be arrested for peddling stuff. The sight of your mother still cutting up mammoths north of the wall could be an enormous tourist attraction.
Thank you Lord Dunoon for your generous mark….Yours aye (in the Scottish sense) …David.
P.S. On which side did the Dunoons fight at Culloden?

sweetwater on 01-03-2016
A kind of learning curve?
Your poems are so wonderfully written, I wish I had your insight and intellect, I appreciate and enjoy them all but do not always understand them completely. I obviously didn't inherit my father's brains :-/ Sue 🙂

Author's Reply:
Dear Sue, my sincere apologies, for if the message in my poem is not easily understood, then I believe I have failed as a writer. I am very grateful for that fact to be pointed out - thank you and I will look again at the piece for I know from what you write that you are a bright person. In this case the message was intended to be that in animals, including humans, greed and success generate ambition to do more and take a step too far that results in failure. This is what death can often teach us. I regarded the piece as supportive of Supratik's declared mission in life - that peace on earth through realisation that war gets us nowhere except early to the grave. Again my apology Sue, for being a bit too obscure and thanks for the generous words from your pen. XXX David

pommer on 01-03-2016
A kind of learning curve?
Dear David,brilliant and to the point as ever.Yes greed seems to be such a motivator for mankind. You evoked some feelings in me with your reference to WW2.I was only a self opinionated , indoctrinated teenager when it started ,but I remember the jubilation of the people when our troops returned from Poland.Some years later when I was actually involved things looked very different.I was in the mind forming years, and one thing that stands out in my mind was the evil of war.The last few months of that conflict were hell,being involved in rearguard action over and over again,escaping cauldron after cauldron, and losing ones mates one after another.All because of the greed of our rulers. Well, David ,that is enough.be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Dear Peter, If I had not realised how you felt about the past from what you have written – and from what you have done to help the NHS and this country, I would probably not have mentioned WW2 as an example in this poem. I knew how you would respond and thank you for that because you are an open, honest and upright man – above all, a thinker.
Thank you for your brave, yes brave and forthright comment….My best wishes, David

sweetwater on 03-03-2016
A kind of learning curve?
Oh David, no please don't alter it in any way the message came across very well and you have certainly never failed as a writer I am sure. I write a lot of poems that are very obscure and the comments often don't relate in any way to what I was saying ( which is usually my intention ). However your's are very clever and have so much depth and knowledge that I can enjoy the skill and talent in the writing whether or not I understand everything being said but the meaning behind them is always clear. I too go with everything Supratik says, and perhaps one day the world will wake up ,but I fear it never will. Sue xx

Author's Reply:
Dear Sue, that was very thoughtful and very kind of you to post a second response. I am sure that, like me, you become very focused when writing a poem. I find that can allow me to make assumptions that can take me away from being as clear to the reader as I should be. As always with myself, I look at every poem I have just posted and think how much better it could have been ! Again my thanks - yours aye, David

Mikeverdi on 03-03-2016
A kind of learning curve?
UKA are lucky to have a writer of your undoubted talent and honesty David. This is an excellent piece, so typical of you. Well done, and congratulations on the nib.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Apologies for delay. Thank you again for reading me and for your more than generous words. Trust you are coping well as always. Every time I see in the papers an article about a new cure I think of you and hope. My best, David

stormwolf on 09-03-2016
A kind of learning curve?
Well done David. The metre perfect, the voice strong and determined...the insight starting as ever. Bravo!
Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Sorry for the delay. Things tough at my end – will not bore you. Re the poem, I now feel that perhaps I am wagging too many fingers at the world, but it is very hard to be nice and above all humorous about what is going on. There is a tendency for old people to think that times are much worse than they used to be, but the reality is that they just different as humanity stumbles along to improve its position on earth. There are always exceptions of course where nature intervenes locally with climate change bringing repetitive drought, floods or earthquakes and man does the same with nuclear catastrophes and wars. But I should not bore you with philosophy instead ! I must thank you for your continued encouragement to keep going – honestly you can have little idea how much your comments and kindness mean to me. As ever….Your David.

Simon on 26-04-2016
A kind of learning curve?
Technically good and very moving. Well done!

Author's Reply:


Britain hanging by a thread (posted on: 26-02-16)
The author accepts no responsibility for the way you choose to vote.

Is Britain hanging by a tender thread, a hair or three from Boris' swollen head; the buffoon dangled perilous by wire whose childish antics frequently backfire? The waverer, we all know what he's like, takes advice from babyface, young Mike. Postures on the doorsteps with the press, they know what he will do - well more or less. Every day he'll sing a different tune, hopes to be the next PM by June; weeps crocodile to David in his sleep, shows all the signs of being the perfect creep. Or are we hung from hairs on David's chest, who fought the E-Goliath, did his best; the man whose flipping mind has been on trial, but found a deal he says will be worthwhile? Many think he has not met his aim, that nothing's been achieved, things stay the same. His 'luvvie' meetings round the world were hailed, yet all in all his project goal has failed. Whether we are voting 'in' or 'out', the choice of politicians, full of doubt; statistics bandied far from error free; two leaps into the dark, they seem to be. Best amble blindfold to the voting box, cross your fingers, bless your cotton socks, make your mark, the correct thing to do, the world will always put the blame on you. David February 2016
Archived comments for Britain hanging by a thread
Gothicman on 26-02-2016
Britain hanging by a thread
Ahh! God forgives the sinners, but do the sinners forgive god? Your thyrsus doth protest too much, biting the hand that grieves you!
Buffoon Boris on a bicycle transported to us on square wheels; won't do David! The E-Goliath is hanging on a thread over UK ÷ 3, waiting to fall and sever off our last remnants of sovereignty! The poetry's not bad for a schoolboy's basic training! ("meet" should be "met"?)
With due respect, Trevor


Author's Reply:
There now, would you believe it ! As suggested in my previous posting I chose to write in simple rhyming couplets so the message to you would be easily understood and then you accuse me of schoolboy nonsense! Ah well, I was only trying to warn you that your square wheel bicycling hero, who can barely tread a mill, has jelly legs and feet of sand and is even less suited to be a PM than Cameron -. brainy but indecisive. As for Gove, a waffler who pretends to be intelligent and gets away with it because his wife is. Enough of this blasphemy. To be honest, Trevor, I have had to spend much of my life in industry making judgements about men, but who am I to talk. I was given the choice of becoming a county cricketer or going into politics. My degree was in aerodynamics (essential for getting late swing from an old ball), and I chose electronics – how indecisive is that !
As to biting hands, I feel that if we Brexit, your home will be the first to complain about a sudden rise in the cost of your family shopping – especially Belgian beer. Coupled with a drop in wages to offset our export prices rise against the EU tariff barriers, things will get really bad – certainly for a good few years. Goodbye deficit elimination - your Faragist friends never talk about that. Bang you’re dead. Back to the security of my tin-lead army! Cheers my friend and thanks for the 'met'....David

e-griff on 26-02-2016
Britain hanging by a thread
I think Boris is a very clever chap indeed, whatever his motives.

With regard to the EU, I think it's wiser to listen to what industry and commercial companies say, not screaming nationalists and xenophobes. The pound has already fallen substantially in fear the the UK will separate from the EU and the damage that will do to the economy.

We shall see.

Author's Reply:
John, I cannot disagree with you that Boris is a very bright guy, but that does not mean he will make a good leader - once again this morning he changes his mind on a major issue - indecisive ditherer a common feature of the brilliant brain. My main reason for staying in is that we can see how things go and get out if necessary at a time of our choice - e.g., if the Euro parliament starts serious monkey business with the deal after we have voted to stay in. Yours aye...David

Mikeverdi on 26-02-2016
Britain hanging by a thread
Never afraid to lead from the front. I have always admired this about you and your writing David. As you know I don't always agree with you but.....
For me the jury is still out, one of the undecided. Not a place that I normally find myself.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Sincere thanks Mike for making the time to comment. Re the euro nonsense, the easy way is to stay in and see how things go and we can always escape later at any time. We cannot do the reverse.
My best to you both...David

pommer on 27-02-2016
Britain hanging by a thread
Well done once again David,I can't vote being of German nationality, in spite of the fact that I have lived here for 70 years now.Never mind, at least no one can blame me if things go wrong.I am like Mike, I could not make up my mind at present.However, I would hate to see this old democratic country becoming a vassal of a possible dictatorial United States of Europe,the ambition of many.A well written proper poem.Peter

Author's Reply:
Thanks again Peter for kind words. Two things made up my mind. If we stay in and see how things go, we can always get out later. The reverse does not apply. Second, Boris may be brainy beast, but another turn-about from him this morning - dithering as usual - he cannot make up his own mind - far too indecisive to be a good leader. We see this so often - Obama is another in the same slot. Gove is an intellectual idiot who is lucky to have a clever down-to-earth wife.
I think it highly unlikely that this country will ever allow itself to become a part of the European federalist dream - partly because that itself is highly unlikely to be realised.
Ah well, you will watch us stumble along with interest ! My best...David

Andrea on 27-02-2016
Britain hanging by a thread
Vote out, you lot!

Author's Reply:
Oh dear sweet Andrea, your message reads like you are an imprisoned princess appearing in the top window of a castle deep in the highest mountains of the Netherlands, appealing for rescue. Sadly my days of intrepid knighthood are over. Will a kiss blown from the outer side of the moat help? I fear not, for though there are many fools in this country who will vote to Brexit, there are still more who will wish to stay. We shall admire your sad face in the window and sympathise, but I will have a deeply troubled conscience. UKA needs you to stay put. Duty is hard master. My thanks for your tolerance and kindness - and the nib if it was you. Yours aye,
....David





David.

sweetwater on 28-02-2016
Britain hanging by a thread
I have read this with a great deal of interest several times, but I still don't know about Boris. I am not politically minded and I certainly don't trust any of them one bit, I think they are out for their own glory and if they can use us they will. I like Boris as a bumbling and harmless buffoon, who can poke fun at himself, but I have a very strong feeling that underneath there lurks a rather nasty person. As for in or out I am waiting for some unbiased information before I make my mind up, but as always the mud slinging clogs everything up. On the whole I think I will vote out, but on the other hand..... Sue. 🙂

Author's Reply:
Hi Sue, thank you for reading my piece which does not make things much clearer, I admit. Truth is we will not get any unbiased info, but I definitely tend to trust the financial people more than the arts, legal and professional side. At least their info is based on something firm rather than the conjecture of the less well-informed inhabitants of the bar (the liquid one). My best ..David



stormwolf on 09-03-2016
Britain hanging by a thread
OUT! Out! Out! Before we are totally overrun by hostile hordes and enslaved completely by unelected beaurocrats from Brussels. A den of self serving vipers if ever there was one and bugger political correctness once and for all!!!!
Brilliant as always David.
I think I cannot be accused of sitting on the fence. Haha
The distant echoes of my father and his mates turning in their graves is quite disconcerting.
Alison xxx


Author's Reply:
Thank you dear Alison for digging into the past. I do share your feelings re the vipers in Brussels, but as responsible human beings we must think of the UK’s working population and their future financial situation rather than the irksome game caused by petty rules that irritate the legal people and the ambitious “ little Englander” political playboys like child Boris, Nigel and Michael. Boiled down, their main arguments are emotional. The best reason for staying in now is that we can see how things progress in the near future and then we can always come out later if things are not going well. Burning boats unnecessarily at a premature stage is never a wise option. Too much at stake in the present world business climate.
Ah well, the real problem is that none of us will get sufficient impartial information to enable good judgement on which way to vote. We will all be voting blind !

I often wonder how things are progressing with you and in your family situation – there is so much pain going on in our lives. I do owe you a letter – will try.
Your friend…David


The Ministry of Silly Rhymes (posted on: 22-02-16)
An Encyclical to all poets. "I cannot possibly comment". N.B. Reader knowledge of Ohms Law not essential, but the technically correct double-ended acrostic was fun to contrive.

The Ministry of Silly Rhymes is forecasting much better times. For rhyming couplets, outlook good, the poem is easily understood. When stanzas rhyme alternate lines, by the time the verse is ended, you have to sort which pair combines, what goes with which and what's intended. When rhyming pairs are first and last, you cannot wait to reach the end. What lies between them, barely read, your patience running out too fast. In every line the rhyme's the same, you're playing the irritation game. Lack of inspiration, tame, boredom rightly gets the blame. Primary current starts as an amp, One amp o'er one volt's aMho. Electric resistance, then you must agree, Means one volt o'er one amp's an Ohm. For prose in lines, the problem starts, you read in hope, find none at all. Not poet's block, you've been deceived, an oxymoron manifest. Wake up England, rhyme is best. David February 2016
Archived comments for The Ministry of Silly Rhymes
Pronto on 22-02-2016
The Ministry of Silly Rhymes
Absolutely loved this David especially the acrostic. (I used to teach Ohm's law, too)but you'll get no resistance from me your series was definately parallel!
Well done

Author's Reply:
Thank you Tony and especially for your mark which, as you have previously said, yours is not easily won! My best, David

Gothicman on 22-02-2016
The Ministry of Silly Rhymes
David, peddling both Rhyme and exit Brexit, what do you want of me? Wake up England indeed!
Liked this poem though, has Goebbels-like quality to it, though probably not intended. The double-ended acrostic was both novel and informative, a sort of electronic "them bones". Oxymoron! Try this formula: poetry = trapped rhyme + liberated minds + (interesting content) = talent/2 = room for both kinds!
Yes, definitely slipped through the unreliable rhythm method at conception! Myself? I was part of a free for all spurt!
These little lead soldier wars, all good humorous fun!
Trevor

Author's Reply:
Under Goebbelic instructions your lead soldiers are obviously in the 'Stand at - ease' (notice the dash pause... my training in military grammar) position today - whereas mine are in the 'Fire' position. A massacre and war crime no doubt your liberated mind will claim.
Sorry you took the Boris bait - my next posting will explain your mistake. Oh dear, war on two fronts and me in Goebbels mood, guess who will probably win !! Thanks Trevor.....no triumphalism yet -- promise. Yours, David.


pommer on 22-02-2016
The Ministry of Silly Rhymes
Yes David., this one is a winner.I like the acrostics.They can be quite a bit of fun to work out.As for the last lines, yes, rhyme is best.I only wish for myself that I had a little more time to write.Be lucky David, your friend Peter.

Author's Reply:
Dear Peter, thank you for your generous marking. I guess for both of us all time is borrowed - I expect by next week I shall no longer be able to walk - mind but no legs is a difficult partnership to swallow. Our new stairlift now in place, but its very presence I shall try to use as a spur to avoid it as long as possible. Mobility is so precious. Trust you are OK and coping My best to you both ...David

pdemitchell on 22-02-2016
The Ministry of Silly Rhymes
A wry expl-oratory of the forms ABAB or even ABBA - bless them. The electrical acrostic was a nice touch too. Ohm mane padme hum as they say in many a candle-lit buddhist monastry. Paul: a moron it is said in search of oxygen.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Paul, we rhymers must stick together to avoid extinction. At least we know that Gove is on our side - he wants schools to stick to proper poetry - rhymes that help poems (and songs) to stay in the memory - how sensible. What then is a polymoron? Needs carbon dioxide too?. Regards...David

Mikeverdi on 25-02-2016
The Ministry of Silly Rhymes
Bah Humbug!!! I raise the flag of free verse, free thinking and free spirit HaHaHa! You are so good at this David I feel I may lose the battle😁😂😁
Mike

Author's Reply:
Sadly you have a God on your side - you cannot fail, but we have only Gove on ours, Bacchus versus Babyface - I fear the worst. So glad to see your printed words again - keep it up good friend, my very best to you both...David


The stars foretell? (posted on: 19-02-16)
Have no fear, astrological forked tongue studies of the political situation are, as usual, likely to be more accurate than the polls. Revised version contains extra verse omitted here in error...DB

Now we know that Einstein got it right, we're blessed again by Cameron's white hole; new waves of gravity that came last night will bind our country close to Europe's whole. The Brexitas, now terrorists, face jail, some traitors found asleep a UKIP tent. Kangaroo court justice cannot fail, imprisonment, no vote - the punishment - until the EU rules in Klink prevail when prisoners, too late, may show dissent. Boot camps run by Merkel's Clacton Belles, Carswell from the pier head daily plunged. Farage serving time in Broadmoor cells; all anti-Euro thoughts are being expunged. Poets voicing exit notes today are likely now to disappear from view, face house arrest or worse, says Mrs May, for crimes against the state they'll come to rue. Democracy in England is restored, Trade union rights to strike are now withdrawn, Boris stays suspended by a cord, Gove is reprimanded, strictly 'torn'. The Universe can take its normal course, when Jupiter meets Mars, the planets deem that Europe and the UK can't divorce, that Brexit was a moonshine Tory dream.
Archived comments for The stars foretell?
Gothicman on 19-02-2016
The stars foretell?
Hello David,
I see you're still peddling UK's demise in the Franco-German Empire, with Kosovo, Turkey, Macedonia, i.e. wasp-nests of corruption and crime waiting at the free-movement door!
You're right that the career politicians and big industrialists can't afford to let the Brexit camp win, so they'll just cook the voting books like they did with SIP's brave attempt to break up the Union; with Trident committed to deep Scottish lochs, escape from Westminster's clutches was never on the cards! (Keeping it around 50/50% was smart!). Alex Salmond and Nicola Sturgeon in all honour (there's something fishy about those two!), Scotland won't be allowed to leave the Uk, even if a Brexit was possible and did happen!
Humorous and skilful poetry as usual. French fracking to the south, houses in your sleepy Dorset village bought by Polish and Lithuanian businessmen for conversion to highly profitable multiple-occupancy dwellings, where do your loyalties lie man! You're not MD for an American conglomerate any more, think small and quaint man!
The content horrific, the poetry skill as ever, envied and enjoyed!
comrade Trevor!

Author's Reply:
My thanks again for your kind words Trevor. What ever happens, in good humour I feel we shall always be friends. Scotland may be Cameron's parachute from a spaceship that is out of control. Just as Trump is the leading man in the USA because he peddles outrageous nonsense, so the Brexit team is doing the same job here. It's all fun of the fair until the day comes - are the UK public fooled by the worthless arguments about the less important issues - minor law problems in exporting a couple of madmen, the human rights game, border controls. It makes me cry to think of the millions of ill-informed voters on both sides who will be determining my grandchildren's future. I take in that a prime minister's promise to abide by the referendum results is not legally binding - what if the Commons votes against Brexit - which it likely will? Ah well, sleep tight on the ropes, as the sailors say. My best...David

Pronto on 19-02-2016
The stars foretell?
No matter which way it goes


Cameron standing on tippy toes


Trying to reach the heights


Other political pygmies cannot


The European polyglot


Speaks a language not understood


By any but the 'great and good'


To strangle freedom by the umbilical


Using methods undemocratically diabolical


In or out makes little difference anyway


The British tax payer still has to pay







Author's Reply:
A good poetic response Tony - my thanks for the info that it's the poor wot gets the blame! - but how do we know in this case. I guess we are all ill-informed on this whole damned caboodle. Yours aye, David

pommer on 19-02-2016
The stars foretell?
What can I say David, as usual you have expressed the feelings of many of us in your eloquent way.I always have thought that one day we might get a "Fourth Reich", and we might be told by the bureaucrats:Ve have vays for you to toe ze line." I just read an interesting letter by Spike Milligan to the "Times"about the last referendum,in which he states that we can only vote "yes" as there is no way of voting "No".What goes round comes round.Peter.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Peter. Spike Milligan indeed - I sometimes wish he was still alive - a sparky man. The Fourth Reich - yes, there are bits of its predecessor's activity types scattered all over the world right now. I would not dare to say something of the sort could never happen here! You are a good man - thank you for choosing to stay here. Yours, David

Pronto on 21-02-2016
The stars foretell?
Eye David,

Will either side tell us the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth? In the end it's all crystal ball work followed by "I told you so" by whomsoever proves to be the nearest to 'right' (Whatever that is)

Author's Reply:
Hi Tony. You are probably right, but what logical conclusions should we draw? Obviously it is you or I that should be running the country and after a lot of thought I have decided it should be me. I am offering you the post of Chancellor because everybody else is ruled out. My best to you….David.


The politics of pollution (posted on: 12-02-16)
Past Governments so-called 'cradle to grave policies have continually failed to address some avoidable medical, environmental and social problems that can kill us. Some remedies are now on the horizon, but many remain as a result of deliberate prior and present inaction. For this Government, evidently the need for the deficit to go by 2020 comes before protecting human life.

Where does human health begin and end? Years ago before conception starts, genetic spirals set the long term trend, environments may still beset our parts. What government decides can take effect, at this point it's just NHS advice; the do's and don'ts in life that can reflect on how an embryo might pay the price. Behaviour of the male comes first in line, while female living mode then takes control. The drinking, drugs and smoking paradigm, behaviour patterns still may play their role. No midwife in the ward at time of birth? The NHS may not afford the cost, the nurses are not paid their proper worth, a doctor's strike, more precious lives are lost. Pollution looms, the cars, the exhaust cheats, Nitrous oxide breathed can kill us all. Please do not take the pram in city streets, the diesel particles will have a ball. Insecticides on crops we're asked to eat, the fruit and 'veg' on supermarket shelves, designed to lengthen 'shelf life' in their stores, look 'pretty' while the people help themselves. Campylobacter live, on chicken breasts, sit tempting in the light; they harbour death. No warnings of the risk? Few prior tests; buyer beware, they scent your final breath. Do not live where water is on hand, most protection budgets have been flawed. No stop to housing on the at-risk land, advice from climate experts long ignored. Stay clear of turbine towers if you like sleep, noisy beasts when wind blows in the night. If dead migrating birds will make you weep, then drive away and chose another site. The long term tests on fracking not complete, the greed: ''Expand at all costs'', sweeps our soil, a birth right, pointless sucked from neath our feet; no sooner done, than man won't need the oil. For 'end of life', bed blocking's likely care, the hospice homes are full ‒ of folk like me. Social service cuts, no help from there, to die at home, you'll need a saint or three! David February 2016
Archived comments for The politics of pollution
shadow on 12-02-2016
The politics of pollution
Ah, yes - we're all on the high road to Hell - 'twas ever thus. Still there's one comfort: however bad it is, it can always get worse!Good poem, sums up our present situation in a nutshell.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Shadow for your comment. 'High road to hell', love that; always thought it was a low road ! My best....David

pommer on 12-02-2016
The politics of pollution
David,this is so true and I can only compliment you on this wonderful description of the way things are. Congratulations.I only hope that one can die in one's own home without having to sell it to pay for mediocre care.Peter

Author's Reply:
Thanks Peter, yes mediocre care at the moment I am afraid - and all because the Chancellor will not delay balancing the books by two or three years. Right idea, wrong method - so typical of our half-educated politicians. We face now a prolonged struggle to succeed despite them. My best...David

pdemitchell on 12-02-2016
The politics of pollution
The drinking, drugs and smoking paradigm. YIPPEE, Saint Bozzz! Ahem, sorry, rock n roll lifestyle. A worthy scatter-gun blast targeting a fracking plethora of eco-absurdities!

Author's Reply:
One miracle in promoting your lifestyle, I need another before sainthood can be confirmed; any suggestions. Thanks Paul....My best...David

Gothicman on 13-02-2016
The politics of pollution
David, your usual accomplished self in writing a topical poem that is so brutally real in presenting a comprehensive list of health dangers and health-care deficiencies that have arisen as the inadequate response to them! Technology is certainly a double sided sword, fighting poverty and sickness on one side, on the other destroying quiet, dignified, quality of life. Man's risk filled destiny from cradle to grave. I was thinking that we quite naturally fix our dissatisfaction, displeasure, and frustration, failures and shortcomings, misplaced human values etc into our inspirational needs to say something, but, what if you were to siphon through the pluses in your current life situation? Are their any, are we a a little home-blind to them? Just a thought, this absence of emotional balance can make life overbearing. From grumpy old man to soothsayer, not an easy transition! Wouldn't recognise you! Hahaha! No, it's our privilege to have your astute take on things, ones that affect most people, in such a skilful form of expression.
As usual, the content disturbing, the literary skill much enjoyed.
Best, Trevor

P.S. I see on the news today Scilly Isles declared "rat free", positive side effect of Fracking?

Author's Reply:
My dear chap, would you have sucking up on my knees in gratitude to SSE every time I switch on a light bulb or DVLA when I drive a car, or even your good self when I vote brexit to please you? Like most reporters, I am damned to deal only with the errors and sordid side of the life equation. Syphoning is for suckers: Joke.
Many thanks for giving me an excuse anyway – you are kindness itself – Not a joke.
Re Fracking, I have watched the boats carrying supplies from small village ports on the Cherbourg peninsula to the (Scilly, silly) islands.
It is those perilous French cheeses wot killed the rats, not to mention the lethal viruses carried by mosquitoes from Marseilles and the horsepower of electricity supplied from the local nuclear KVA generating station in wretched metric units to power electrocuting cage traps. Bon voyage…..David

PS too old to become a sage – late developer

sweetwater on 13-02-2016
The politics of pollution
Striking words, I am one hundred percent behind every single one, this poem echoes one I wrote back in the early seventies
and things have become significantly worse. Sue x

Author's Reply:
Hi Sue, I would love to see your poem on similar lines - if you can spare the time to syphon it out from your poetic library! It would be very interesting to see how much things have changed over the past fifty years. Anyway, thank you for taking the time to review mine and for your kind words and rating.... My best...David.

Pronto on 16-02-2016
The politics of pollution
Wow David you paint a bleak picture without a glimmer of hope. Everything you so eloquently wrote of is true. But, I am an eternal optimist, so, even if we dramatically cull ourselves what is left will be stronger, wiser. (I hope so anyway)

Author's Reply:


From love through madness to the grave (posted on: 01-02-16)    
Will mankind's self-destruct button beat environmental change to bring our voyage on planet earth to an end?

What crumb of comfort stays between the sheets, that joy exists beyond orgasm's end? Procreation, nature's will, secretes a heart's desire that claims its dividend. The rest remains a struggle to exist, the pain of birth, the stress of life to come. To have and hold the precious jewel of tryst, awhile the world in hatred, beats the drum. Each friendly pulse of heartbeat signals love, but death becomes its purpose with a sword. Preaching peace, the countries fly their dove, yet carrying a threat to life on board; a nuclear sub, a 'recce' plane, a man. Religions play their games to stir the pot, mercy is an absent friendly plan; believe with us, or else be still and shot. From bed to grave our cyclic madness grows, the self-destructing button not quite pressed, for mankind on the edge, stays bellicose, while anti-war protesters face arrest. Behind the scenes on Earth's decaying crust environmental change lurks with intent, the second man-made route to die in dust, as scientists cry halt to world dissent. The rest of us stay helpless, pray and hope, fear for children facing years ahead, kid ourselves that governments will cope, do our bit, yet sleep uneased, in dread. So what good news will make us unafraid? that British athletes win Olympic gold? that British songs still make the hit parade? That Man' United 's team have all been sold? The media tries hard to dumb us down, but on-line writers live to carry truth. Stay confident that poets are the crown, and evolution will succeed, forsooth. Small comfort indeed ! David February 2016
Archived comments for From love through madness to the grave
Supratik on 01-02-2016
From love through madness to the grave
David!

Author's Reply:
Thank you Supratik for your generous marking and, above all, for your kindly giving my poem a 'hot' category. I guess we both rail at the world's stupidity in thinking that war is a solution to anything. Education, Education. My best...David.

pdemitchell on 01-02-2016
From love through madness to the grave
A tirade against folly in perfect ABAB quatrains and I am all for inventive crumbs of (southern) comfort! Paul

Author's Reply:
Thanks Paul - I think that crumbs of comfort create themselves and are independent of the source of their liquor. Cheers....David

sweetwater on 02-02-2016
From love through madness to the grave
You have summed it all up for me, fantasic battle cry for peace, if that phrase isn't too much at odds with itself. Sue.

Author's Reply:
Sue, my apologies for delayed response. Many thanks for your generous mark and comment. We tread a common path on the most important issues if I have summed up for you that is a great compliment. My thanks too for that. Loved your oxymoron - no that's not the right word - about a battle cry for peace. XXX instead?...Yours, David

pommer on 02-02-2016
From love through madness to the grave
Yes David, such a splendid tirade against the foolishness of man. Best wishes Peter

Author's Reply:
I am so glad that both you and Paul used the word 'tirade' instead of rant in your comments - a touch kinder! The piece is the kind of thing you do very well yourself - one just has to explode and let it all pour out....my best...David

stormwolf on 02-02-2016
From love through madness to the grave
Hi David, you have excelled yourself yet again. The voice in this poem was full of ancient wisdom. The first stanza started it off perfectly. The pleasure and fleeting joy then the long arduous walk through a world on fire.
It's so true that we shall never get anything resembling truth from the press.
The Kardasians take up half the front page while few know that Fukushima has now killed off almost the entire Ocean and whales and seals are dying from starvation. All the fish are gone down to the shellfish. 😢
It makes me cry for the sea creatures, not to mention the multitudes of
children now succumbing to thyroid cancer in Japan.
Oh, but let's not be distracted by issues that afflict mankind
when there is yet another vacuous Hollywood ceremony to distract the masses.
I don't know how you do it but I am so glad that you do.
Musicians with protest songs and poets are called to speak up.

Marvellous.
Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
The heavens shake and the shrapnel turns to kind things ! Great thanks Alison for your manifold gifts, the mark, the recommendations and all else, let alone the kindred comment. Yes, there are so many things that need our attention as well as the tough tasks of work and just living - we can never catch up and that leads to periodic explosions that come from all of us. I promised to let you know how I find the time to fiddle with the keys - literally by buying a special American watch that can sound an alarm at 8 different times of day. This tells me when to take a walk, when to take my 16 different pills, when to eat without letting them interfere with each other and other things. By this means I can stop worrying about my next required action and focus entirely on my writing. It is not perfect because life is never a totally ordered procedure, except in North Korea perhaps. I try to prevent Meg being too harassed by it all, cooking especially, but we all three rub along reasonably well. "That bloody clock", alias David in disguise, gets most of the brickbats and that is as it should be. Meg is just bloody marvellous and caring and she is really expending her time giving it to me - so for my poems read Meg's hard work.
I do hope that eventually we shall see you back on line soon, but realise that your present is still a very busy life despite the pain that must be coped with. I expect your lovely grandchild keeps you even more busy on occasion. My love...David

Savvi on 02-02-2016
From love through madness to the grave
Very well penned David, Storm says it all really, great poetry.

Author's Reply:
My thanks Keith, good friend. Yes Alison, who has many physical problems, is very kind and has helped me through her own free verse and knowledge of poetry, to cope with my own preferred metier. Sounds odd but it is true. For now, my best wishes...David

Supratik on 03-02-2016
From love through madness to the grave
I don't think I have ever made a comment like this before! But believe you me, I was completely taken in by the sheer poetic genius and the layout and structuring of the content. It also felt like reading my more intelligent version. I could say nothing more other than what I wrote!

However, I think I should express myself clearly, and hence writing another comment. I am hopeful that if people like you came forward and made the world see how profitable it would actually be to rid ourselves from the perils of self-destruction, then your brilliantly written last stanza will surely come into fruition.


You know what...I got an interesting comment in one of my posts (not here!!)... aren't you tired writing about peace... I replied when I was completely out of irritation saying no, I will never get tired until the world gets tired of wars.


Keep writing David..show the world that it's possible... I have tremendous faith in England and in Europe.


Supratik

Author's Reply:
My great thanks to you for your kind comment. I am so tired tonight that I beg to reply again as a follow up. Would love to have a deeper exchange of views and to know each other better. Yours aye, David. Now continued but decided I will send you a note via the UKA private message system. Yours D.

Gothicman on 04-02-2016
From love through madness to the grave
Yes, another brilliant literary working of the poetry genre, David.The ability and agility towards acute, astute, resolute, brain gymnastics is totally beyond belief, all considered, and deserving the highest accolades as demonstrated, and well-earned. It must be the fruits of the catharsis effect! But, even so, people read interesting work that says something important, and the drop in the ocean can cause expanding rings that reach far and wide, especially to every day ordinary people, who in their own eloquent way can relate the dissatisfaction on to a far greater number of ears and hearts! All grease to your elbow, David, and power to that wickedly sharp mind of yours, I fear you are last of a precious breed.
When we'er out of Europe, a little happy, moderately-poor, but proud again egg, I'll be happy though! Hahahaha! Otherwise you and me, we sing (me hardly discernible) from the same secular hymn sheet, you with the big baritone picture, me with alto-soprano poor individuals who've lost their way!, especially myself! Hahaha!
Keep your pencil sharpened David, we need you and the quality you bring!
...Trevor

Author's Reply:
Ha, a brilliant infiltration into the pro-Euro ranks, your chapter on the virtue of Brexit is applauded for its impertinence - great stuff !! That deals with the guff. As to the poem, I can only say that as you are the UKA's present leading poet, your encouragement and kind words are very much appreciated - thank you Trevor. As to the hymn sheet, Barbirolli it was who described an alto as a 'Low woman' and I think, even in your most modest frame of mind, you would wish yourself my suggestion of a worthy basso profundo - lower still of course. Ha Ha. Thanks good fellow songster.....David

Supratik on 05-02-2016
From love through madness to the grave
Yes sure David!

Author's Reply:

Pronto on 07-02-2016
From love through madness to the grave
Alison spoke for me more eloquently than I myself could have put it David. A brilliant insightful poem to be sure.
I wonder what the Earth will look like 1000 years from now?

Author's Reply:
Apols for late reply. 1000 years must be at least a score of wars away. From among the few particles of incinerated ash that remain of me in Hell, if you are still alive then I will wish you well. I do not know which of us will be better off. For now, please accept my thanks for your generous words. In friendship...David


Fracking under Cranborne Chase AONB (posted on: 29-01-16)
Our local Tory MP voted for a loophole to make it possible to allow fracking to come under Cranborne Chase. We live within the edge, near where big noisy pumps may sit. My 'worst case' dip into our possible near future is offered. May his god forgive him, for I will not.


Fracking now neath where we dwell, just to heat the halls of hell? More carbon made, more global pain. Cameron promises ditched again. Each morn the ground beneath us quakes The breakfast table shakes the flakes. The kitchen walls, new cracks in plaster, listed buildings crumble faster? Gas now leaked to aquifer in deepest chalk below our land; we can no longer drink our tea, poisoned water full of sand. If flooding comes to fracking head polluted liquid widely spread? Livestock dying in the fields, crops then useless, zero yields. An endless flow of traffic through our country lanes one way, now two, HGVs, explosive gas, revival of Prof Quatermass? Pounding pumps in nearby sheds, the lullaby of vibrant beds. No sleep all hours, our life in shreds. The value of our home astray, we can't afford to move away. David December 2016

Archived comments for Fracking under Cranborne Chase AONB
Savvi on 29-01-2016
Fracking under Cranborne Chase AONB
Well said sir, a super poem, I wish I could write with such confidence and clarity on such topic, you seem to manage it effortlessly. Well done David.

Author's Reply:
My thanks Keith for generous comments. We can only wait to see if the invasion begins....we shall fight...David

pommer on 29-01-2016
Fracking under Cranborne Chase AONB
A great poem David well composed as usual.One of these days this island will cease to exist.Who will be held responsible?No doubt some poor sucker who happened to be in charge of the working sites. More frustration.I know the feeling,David, but moving at our age is simply impossible.Hope ypu are reasonably well.Best wishes, Peter

Author's Reply:
Yes this island is full of holes already - surprised that it has not become a volcano and gone up in smoke already. Thank you Peter, I am OK but age means downhill not up. Yours...David

ifyouplease on 29-01-2016
Fracking under Cranborne Chase AONB
I agree with Savvi.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Nic, brief but much appreciated...David

Gothicman on 30-01-2016
Fracking under Cranborne Chase AONB
Yes, your usual brilliance at creating highly topical content with skilful composition, David. You subbed it briefly once before, and I researched a little then these fracking fears and applications in Dorset, saw that French companies are already at it, slightly hidden with "pounding pumps", further down towards the coast? Don't like the idea that environmentally important factors can be overruled, disregarded, if fracking is determined to be in the National interest!
Seems totally daft to me, especially fracking in places of outstanding beauty, and when the seismonic and deep structural and geological, even ecological effects, how they could affect the surface in the longer run are not adequately known or researched. The love of the money god seems to have subjugated all other human values in this sad day and age! I hope this threat never comes of.
The content reminding us of a sad environmental threat, the skill of the poem a joy to read and learn from.
Trevor

Author's Reply:
Yes Trevor, I did sub it before but little did I think the Government would bend so far to please the commercial giants that plan to wreck our land for short term gain. For all his braggadocio Cameron is a coward - on my doorstep too. My best...David

Ionicus on 30-01-2016
Fracking under Cranborne Chase AONB
You express very eloquently the fears that many people have regarding fracking and its possible consequences. I know that these practices come with inherent dangers and are controversial among the population but I don't recognise the doomsday scenario that you present. Morever what is the 'loophole'that you mention? Have they actually given the go ahead to fracking in your area? Some cynics may consider your remarks as Nimbysm. I couldn't possibly comment as I don't know the true situation.
Best, Luigi

Author's Reply:
Hi Luigi, of course you do not recognise the situation I present - as I say in my intro, it is a 'worst case' scenario, but if even one of the hazards described occurs, the consequences are severe. By the way, to the best of my knowledge all the risks listed are based on fact and experience worldwide except the flood situation which I suggest may arise due to global warming in the UK - and apart from leaks at pumping stations there is always a big risk from accidents to the giant tankers carrying the gases on the roads, flooded or otherwise. The loophole was introduced at the last minute in the Government's Bill concerning control of fracking - it permits it under AONBs if a national emergency requires it. As Trevor says, it has already begun by the French EDF in the Dorset area south of us. The term nimbyism is not appropriate in this case as the technology is in its early stages and the long term consequences are not yet known - plus the magnitude of existing known effects are far more serious than just spoiling the view from some houses - which it will, but which I do not include in my list. Thanks for your comment and interesting viewpoint...David

sweetwater on 31-01-2016
Fracking under Cranborne Chase AONB
Awful, simply awful..no not your terrific, to the point poem, the horror that it describes, if the 'sod the planet, give me more money' brigade arn't throwing concrete and bricks at the most beautiful areas of our countryside they are tunnelling like demented destroyer moles underneath it! As for the nimbyism, well why the hell not, we don't want certain things in our back yard, and why should we, we chose our back yard because it had none of those things. And as you say there is not enough information on fracking yet, to be sure it is either safe or viable. A great poem, after my own heart. I wish you luck, and hope the demented moles do not arrive. Sue.

Author's Reply:
Hi Sue, many many thanks for your comment which expresses the views of a great number of people.
The real problem is that it is far too easy for the Government to arrange for the necessity for extra energy to arise because our old nuclear stations are being closed and not enough investment has been made over the past 50 years to fill the rising the gap. The big French-Chinese nuclear plant proposal is still not yet agreed and that will take ten years or so to build.


Do not be fooled. 'Brexit' is a politically dreamed-up nonsense. (posted on: 25-01-16)
UK relations with Europe again divides our nation. In this case 'am means 'ambient memory. The danger of a leader that repeatedly changes direction on projects because he puts priority on the most recent input he receives at the expense of the others is well-known in industry as a 'last input management man, a catastrophic choice.

When a PM goes 'am' there's 'trouble at Mill', his colleagues will force him once more to the brink, for if he has swallowed their latest 'out' pill, a 'last input man' goes again on the blink. Ministers want to renege on their pledge, abandon their duty to speak with one voice; the rats that suspect that their party's on edge, holed and now sinking twixt 'in' and 'out' choice. Most are careerists - not had proper jobs, no knowledge of industry problems and needs, just ambitious lawyers and actors and snobs who pray 'Little Britain', their island, secedes. The dangers of exit not well understood; more concern with the niggles that euro laws bring. See plenty of trees, but never the wood, reality absent from chorals they sing. The ignorant praters who do not take heed of the financial figures our bottom line tells. We will bankrupt our country should Brexit succeed, when half of our exports are tolled by the bells. Firm leadership missing once more at the top, if the wrong man is chosen, there's imminent crisis; a mutinous crew not being told when to stop; Britain's in danger through trade loss, not Isis. David January 2016
Archived comments for Do not be fooled. 'Brexit' is a politically dreamed-up nonsense.
Supratik on 25-01-2016
Do not be fooled. Brexit is a politically dreamed-up nonsense.
The poem voices a large part of Brit population I am sure, especially the part which does not want to live like an island. Let me also join and pray that Brexit be given a re-think so it does not become a reality. Much liked the way the poem uses 'am', but loved the last stanza the most, replete with concern emotion and poetic genius. Supratik

Author's Reply:
Many thanks for your comment and as you are a person not directly affected, I much appreciate your willingness to do so. It is so important politically and financially that we do not disconnect from our troubled neighbour landmass. Yours aye....David

e-griff on 25-01-2016
Do not be fooled. Brexit is a politically dreamed-up nonsense.
I have one question. Why do you say it's 'a politically dreamed-up nonsense'? I'm sure there are many who think the UK would be better off on its own (much as the SNP think about Scotland of course), but why should it be a matter of politics? (I assume you mean some kind of party politics)
Surely it's a matter for individual free choice, a free vote, a referendum?

But I agree with you that practically it would be retrograde and crazy to withdraw.

Sorry this is not a comment on your writing, but then, I don't think you particularly intended that.:-)

best JohnG


Author's Reply:
Thank you John for your input. Firstly, I used politics as a generic term and this covers all forms of the genre.
Second that I am surprised that you appear to suggest that the majority who will vote in a referendum of this type will have received enough information to make informed judgements on whether the UK should stay in of leave the EU. No, they will make politically-based judgements depending mainly on the paper they read and what the rest of the media choose as their particular bias, both source types being under the control of media magnates. I suggest that those who have any glimmer of understanding of the real issues will regard the ‘out’ brigade as having peddled political nonsense of the worst possible type in attempting to mislead the public. As I mention in my piece, many of them – lawyers. film stars, MPs who have majored in politics etc - have little understanding of the business side and the relevant economics. That goes for some chancellors too!
Third, that you are correct in assuming I did not really expect comments on the poem itself – it is partly a political plea based on my fear for the future of our country. Thanks again. Yours aye….David

pdemitchell on 25-01-2016
Do not be fooled. Brexit is a politically dreamed-up nonsense.
Ah, polly-ticks and polly-tocks / with Brexit gin splashed on the rocks / You know I'm not a racist butt / I could be Goebbel's arse and nut... ahem

1% own 99% of the world's resources
62 people own HALF of the world's resources
and the Daily Mail reeks of Zyklon B

Author's Reply:
Copies of the Daily Mail not allowed in our house, so the new slant is news to me. Nigel on gin is also news. Zyklon B is a painful sniff as are the data on wealth distribution - any connection intended? My thanks for taking time...my best....David

Savvi on 26-01-2016
Do not be fooled. Brexit is a politically dreamed-up nonsense.
Some great word choices and weaves here Bozzz great stuff

Author's Reply:
Thanks Keith, I think temperatures will steadily rise on this subject as we move into the spring. Too much will depend on how the ill-informed will vote - I think it was a big mistake by Cameron in ever allowing a referendum, but I recall reading somewhere that parliament is not legally bound by the result. Yours aye...David

sweetwater on 26-01-2016
Do not be fooled. Brexit is a politically dreamed-up nonsense.
I found your poem and the resulting comments very interesting, I am at the lowest level when it comes to politics or the high jinks the government as a whole indulge in. As to staying or leaving the EU well the whole thing to me is a nightmare, both the leave and the stay defenders seem to have their own agendas, not the nations. I would just like to hear the true unbiased pros and cons for both, from someone who is very well informed on both. I dread having to vote if I am no better informed at the time than I am now. Sue.

Author's Reply:
This is an update, I had to quickly make a copy of all my work from the computer to a standby hard disk - it had been making horrible creaky noises and still is!. Perhaps Supratik or someone else independent on the UKA group can help you get an unbiased opinion?

Don't know what to advise about an independent set of data. Must stop commpoutterer on blinkSoorry David

Gothicman on 26-01-2016
Do not be fooled. Brexit is a politically dreamed-up nonsense.
With big industries pleading stay in, and small companies pleading get out, and computors destroying social life, cars wrecking nature, people eating too much and unhealthy foods, and boozing excessively at home, we should:
Brexit, , teach children to read books and write longhand in schools, build more family pubs, manufacture more bicycles, farm more milk cows, open more bakeries, grow more vegetables, teach people to cook, pull down churches, synagogues, mosques, all religious establishments, and use the land for allotments; throw out all foreigners and Brits, third generation and newer, repossess all houses and flats in London owned or rented by foreigners; imprison all property owners with investment portfolios and confiscate all but the houses they live in.....or it might be better to stay in Europe, I haven't decided yet!
There again, I'd be happy to go along with anything Nigel F says.. I think the type of people we'd lose after a Brexit, could only do the country good, let's get back to basics... I might even move back then myself!
The poem, David was your usual excellent standard, the content messaging leaving a lot to be desired..!
Trevor (brushing cigar ash off knee, pouring another whisky)

I also think we should frack the Scilly Isles and pipe the oil to Scotland to save their economy, and warm Nicola's Edinburgh mansion...
.......build a foot passenger tunnel from Calais to Glasgow Centrum och post big kilted ginger McDuff armed with a huge wooden mallet at the exit....
Me? Hysterical, with big decisions to make, with Doomsday imminent? Me?


Author's Reply:
Shock horror surprise, the amazing brain joins the incredible charlatan as padded cell awaits both in Brussels. Our charming Frau has vays of converting non-believers and dealing viz zis situation. Many thanks for the scurrilous entertainment - much enjoyed….....Yours aye…David

Pronto on 27-01-2016
Do not be fooled. Brexit is a politically dreamed-up nonsense.
Ah this is what I love an excellent poem that gives me a chance to push the pussy with the pigeons. 🙂
I signed up for EU as a trading block (As originally sold)Europe would be good for us if they stopped imposing stupid nanny laws (Oven gloves for god's sake. Which genius came up with that?)

These and other crass rules, stupid liberal judges (Many who are only commercial lawyers)who know three fifths of fuck-all about us imposing lunatic laws on immigration and forbid us to expel foreign criminals. These are the emotive issues that will settle our fate not discussions on trade and industry and the wider implications for micro and macro economy.
And as for us sinking? We staggered along for a thousand years without joining Europe we might stagger on a bit longer yet.
The immigration crisis continues to frighten people fartless when they see hordes of randy youths chasing women round Cologne sexually assaulting and robbing them are bound to ask 'Do we want that here?' Then of course there's the hordes in Calais rioting. These are the issues that will scare people into an exit. The economic discussion will be relegated to Sunday Morning TV and the pious postulations of pundits.

Ja, Frau Merkel, Ich bin ein kleine Englander 🙂

Author's Reply:
Hi Tony, my thanks for your comments and yes we are all entitled to our views on in/out of the EU, but it will help if people get the facts right - especially on the immigration issue. But tell me why I should be surprised when an intelligent person is swayed more by the irritating less important immediate issues and current migrant flux than the major long term ones? Yes, things need to be changed and eventually they will be if we remain firm and within rather than flee because we cannot immediately change some short term problems. For me, this is the difference between statesmanship and politics. Yours aye…David


The Troglodytes of Westminster (posted on: 22-01-16)    
The ruling Party secrets management team, who make it their business to know all about all.

The 'troglomeisters' guard the darker holes where hidden perpetrators live in cliques, the well-trained busybodies, alias moles who handle party poisonous briefs and leaks. But also know the habits of each member, their history from school and on, required, behaviour of their partner and their gender, develop means of pressure if desired. Who slept with whom and how and why and where? What secret information was discussed, Inter-party romance grande affaire, or sexual pleasure based on primal lust? Who takes envelopes - and are they brown? Which lobby seeks to undermine what Bill? Whose duck-house was repaired, who paid - The Crown? They search for those with hands still in the till. Who sits with solid conscience of their own, that may not vote along the party line? What vice have they, what secret may be blown, that gives the whips a threat to undermine? No place for squeamish souls to earn their pay, 'The Bugs Brigade' describes this dirty team, the manner of their torture - ''By the way..'', their casual words can end a covert dream. David January 2016
Archived comments for The Troglodytes of Westminster
stormwolf on 22-01-2016
The Troglodytes of Westminster
OMG David, you are on fire! How you manage to put out work of this stature, bearing in mind all you have to deal with, I will never know. I take my hat off to you! (Well I would if I wore one)
Yes, corruption and intrigue everywhere now. Our only chance I fear, is to ditch the lot, every last self serving sleekit one. However, we are now ruled by unelected psychos in the EU. I could mention pigs heads and strange initiation rites but enough said.
ha-ha
Alison xx
happy to nominate

Author's Reply:
My happy thanks for your Nom - a very big and welcome surprise. Yes, you are right, the machinations of party politics have become as bad here as in the USA. We have to mock and show that we know about what is going on behind closed doors. Re the choice between governance by Euro and UK nut cases in charge, we have to watch the bottom line of our economy. As half our exports go to Europe that says we have to stay and gradually build sense into the relationship.
If we go for Brexit, because of the trade barrier duties that will immediately arise in consequence, we will overnight lose a large proportion of half our exports – which means we will go broke. I have tried to deal with this problem in my next submission – already made.
Re time for writing, I will answer your question via a message.
In serious mode, yours aye …David.

pommer on 22-01-2016
The Troglodytes of Westminster
Hi David,another one of your excellent observations.I agree with Alison, how do you manage it with all your health problems.The corruption and bribery as well as the political rhetoric seems to be everywhere.It will never alter.
By the way, I had reasonable good news.No more hospital visits for three months, and a scan in six months time.The biopsy was not conclusive.It appears my symptoms were side effects of new medication,but they are continuing to investigate.I hope you are keeping well,have a nice weekend,both of you, your friend Peter.

Author's Reply:
Peter, I am so glad to hear your personal news. But the drug side effects situation is an escalating problem worldwide. It seems there is no alternative to letting Bigpharma shoot first and wait for the customers to find the difficulties afterwards. I know I will be dead before they find out which one of 14 is steadily killing me – now waiting another month in the queue for an MRI scan! My thanks for your encouragement re the poem…..Yours aye…David

Gothicman on 22-01-2016
The Troglodytes of Westminster
Strange and worrying times now, David, to be sure. At least the pigs in Animal Farm were locally bred! Only a two pronged Armageddon can sort this mess out, a religious purge from fantasy to reality, and the masses overthrowing the Illuminists, shoe-shodding politicians, and international industrialists! Why do I always go global when you write only of Westminster? Hahaha! Great writing as always, and a much enjoyed and appreciated read.
Best, Trevor

Author's Reply:
Yes, there is no shortage of subject matter to use for comment, but creating acceptable rhymic verse let alone lyrical stuff on political subjects is not easy. I am tempted to move house, but realise I am not ambitious enough to write as you do.
As you say, some sort of revolution is bound to occur – but not in our lifetime, I guess. The madness of Brexit and consequent tariff barriers will bring a rise in unemployment and drive UK wages still further down as manufacturers struggle to maintain profit margins in sales to the EU. Thanks again Trevor for your encouragement…..My best, David.

Gothicman on 24-01-2016
The Troglodytes of Westminster
Yes, I admit, I am careless with the accuracy or relevance of my comments more than often now, which is feels personally quite unrewarding, mostly because I'm still highly mobile and active, with few quiter times for concentrating my attention, and for which I apologise. I don't think you have any grounds for wanting or needing to change house, as there should be room for many house styles on this little writer's estate! Each to his or her own, own means and vehicle of expression, even if content messaging and novelty presentation forms have taken prime position in modern creative writing making its combination with classic strictly-regulated rhyme increasingly difficult. You remain masterful at achieving this mix, but you have admitted yourself there is difficulty in achieving sufficient gravitas in rhyme form sometimes. All want to improve their writing without losing or compromising too much of the unique personal characteristics they're blessed with, with regard to style and presentation, but only a few aspire to becoming widely recognised as great poets or authors; most are happy just feeling the freedom to be creative, to say something, either personally in serious work, or for example more altruistically in humorous work, to perhaps achieve relief of tension by the catharsis involved, or to just socially mutually interact with like-minded people?
By the way, we import more from the EU, than we export, a negative tri-monthly balance of about £7 billion. Trade tariffs would be met with trade tariffs, not good for the EU to bring this situation about. Also, you have to distinguish between goods and services, and even here Britain has the advantage.
I'll try to make my comment subject matter more relevant to the poem referred to in future, but I suppose the continuous political mess that seems to have no solution, and risk of war again, that makes a few sentences totally inadequate as personal opinions anyway! The poetical quality of your work is so normally excellent as to be expected to promise nothing less with each new submission! But there are we lesser orthodox-schooled mortals, or who rejected it, who prefer to just express thoughts in other less-restrictive writing forms.
Respectfully, Trevor

Author's Reply:
Oh dear Trevor, I beg to point out that you make the same import/export calculation as our leading mathematician, Sir Michael Caine. Of course we import more from the EU than we export, we are one country and they are circa 25, but if we Brexit, our cost of living would rise dramatically and even more important the pressure to keep wages even lower will come ‒ not a good combination in our present struggling currency situation. Should we not be comparing like with like?

For me, the important figure is the percentage of our exports that go to the EU and that is nearly 50%. Further, any respective import tariffs would go to the respective Government’s pockets – a silly and wasteful game for all concerned. What is the aim of TTIP if not to reduce this nonsense – though I hasten to add this latter proposal has some basic flaws due to deliberately intended side effects which must be removed.

For certain there will be few who have access to the pluses and minuses of the whole situation. Surely we are far too intelligent to want to be among them, so we can cast our various opinions into the maelstrom with confidence that they will be rejected by others. I am doing just this for amusement for as long as I last – hopefully now a few months at least. Watching at first hand the progress of one’s physical degeneration and being unable to do anything much about it, is very annoying and stressful ! Keep walking is the only prescription I am given by those who are still alive, the dead do not reply to my questions!

I was not claiming any special prowess by saying just that political poetry is difficult in rhyme, but more to show the folly of my ways.
As ever, my best to you special friend…..David




Where e'er. No hiding place (posted on: 18-01-16)
A tragic New Year version for Syria (apologies to the original author)


Where e'er you talk the noise of war is played, your home ‒ now badly hit, no shelter from the raid. Where e'er you walk shells will cannonade, cellars where you sit bombs may now invade. Where e'er you tread your friends have met demise, buildings lie demolished; before your saddened eyes. Where e'er you fled, despite your stricken cries your entry is discouraged, barbed wire shall arise. David, January 2016

Archived comments for Where e'er. No hiding place
Pronto on 18-01-2016
“Where e’er….” No hiding place
I almost wanted to sing this to:
"Were ere you walk cool airs shall fan the glade
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade"
An anthem for ISIS mayhap?
Well written and beautifully rhythmic David.

Author's Reply:
Yes Tony, my poem was deliberately based on the song you recall - hence my apology to the original authors (lyric Hamilton, music Handel) and your finding its words exactly suit its rhythm. Anthem for Isis...Hmmm ? My thanks for your kind comment....David

e-griff on 18-01-2016
“Where e’er….” No hiding place
A good thought on the construction. I thought overall it worked very well, but I was disappointed by two lines:' bombs may now invade'and more so by 'barbed wire shall arise'. Both seemed contrived and I'm sure you could find substitutes. I recognise that such phrasing is an old poetic style, but the rest of the poem does not follow that style and they are therefore incongruous for me. Just for example, 'barbed wire fills your eyes' would be better from my point of view. But even if you accept my point no doubt you will have your own solutions.

Best, JohnG

Author's Reply:
Thank you John. I feel the line “bombs may now invade” fits both poem’s rhythm and the fact that the bomb that penetrates concrete before exploding is being used by Assad’s army. But I too had doubts about the barbed wire line in the final verse. Yes it does depart a bit more from the original wording by I had to devise a construct that allowed the message in the final verse to emerge. Thank you for your suggested alternative, but I am reluctant to use it because it repeats the “eyes” used in the previous verse. If you have any other suggestions let me know. I will ponder the matter anyway. My best, David

e-griff on 18-01-2016
“Where e’er….” No hiding place
A good thought on the construction. I thought overall it worked very well, but I was disappointed by two lines:' bombs may now invade'and more so by 'barbed wire shall arise'. Both seemed contrived and I'm sure you could find substitutes. I recognise that such phrasing is an old poetic style, but the rest of the poem does not follow that style and they are therefore incongruous for me. Just for example, 'barbed wire fills your eyes' would be better from my point of view. But even if you accept my point no doubt you will have your own solutions.

Best, JohnG

Author's Reply:

Gothicman on 19-01-2016
“Where e’er….” No hiding place
The amount of refugees escaping war and destruction, running for their lives, trying to save family, life, and limb, perhaps the best guide to judge and determine the state of health of the world, and just now, poor, wretched Mankind is just as troubled and incompetent as ever in what should be for all by now, wonderful lives, challenging and eradicating viruses and diseases in beautiful Nature.
Apart from the content messaging, I like the unusual form and repetition, which gives it a sadder drama. (Last "W" upper case?)
Thanks for this poem, David, very topical and needs to be said.
Trevor

*I've faved your "Like Father, Like Son" again; deleted in error when wielding the big broom!*

Author's Reply:
Trevor, the poem is based on a well-known song put to music by Handel - hence the unusual format - Pronto has inserted the original words of the first verse (above).Thanks for commenting and for the upper case W. Oh, and to be honest I cannot recall writing the piece Father and Son, but delighted that you felt it worth saving. Still here but tottery. Yours...David

sweetwater on 20-01-2016
“Where e’er….” No hiding place
Since reading this on Monday I have been popping back to read it again, four or five times now I think. It's very heart wrenching, and something must be done to help them, but just what, remains a mystery, one minute they are accepted by a country, then the door is slammed in their face. No one seems to want to take charge anywhere, and they just keep wandering on.
So many countries, including this one, have far too many of their own people needing homes too. A real problem hard if not impossible, to solve.
Sue.xx

Author's Reply:
You are right, Sue, the problems are not solved by barbed wire or open gates. Ultimately temporary limited acceptance of genuine war refugees followed by steady return to their own country is the only possible way. With few exceptions, all others must be returned to their own country forthwith. Brutal and costly but..... Yours...David

stormwolf on 22-01-2016
“Where e’er….” No hiding place
Hi David,
I sang along to the revised version of this song. Such a sad indictment on modern life where everywhere we look there is suffering and we seem to be going backwards in being civilised.
Alison xxx

Author's Reply:


Eternal answers (posted on: 15-01-16)
A practical approach, a cheerful viewpoint. Avoid No 43 London buses at all costs.


When will life end? Question posed. ''How long have I got'', we say. The doctors mull what's diagnosed, how to find the kindest way. At best it's ''No idea, don't fuss, for all I know you're going to be run over by a London bus, it could be number forty three.'' Or ''Maybe five years, could be ten, based on life style that you choose. Come back in two, we'll think again. Cut the cigarettes and booze.'' ''Six months, with luck it might be more, depends on how you spend your time''. We've heard these careful words before, but 'optimism's not a crime. ''A month or two at most I fear, I hope I'm wrong, but be prepared, the CT scan was very clear.'' The truth at last, I'm very scared. The doctor leaning o'er my bed, a smile, a gentle nod of head. No need to hear what's being said, it's 'goodbye mate, you're nearly dead'. David January 2016

Archived comments for Eternal answers
stormwolf on 15-01-2016
Eternal answers
Yes but Sod's law says it will be the number 42 that does you in 😜
A difficult subject treated in your own unique stamp of humour.
I remember over the six months it took my dad to succumb a much younger friend used to visit his bedside. He spoke of "poor Jack" in relation to my dad but he himself was gone only weeks after my dad. The pathos of the situation affected me and taught me too.
Now as today's poem of my own says, I try to cherish even normality haha
Anyway David, when we both meet up eventually in the next world, I am going to enjoy saying " I told you so! " 😜
But that can wait a while yet.
Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
Well what made you choose 42 rather than 44? Obviously you know Sod better than I do! I draw some comfort from the fact that others are worse than myself in the 'how long' stakes. You have been a loyal daughter and have a right to say you did your best for her.
I am due for a final scan on 7th - still looking means still hoping. My thanks Alison.

Supratik on 15-01-2016
Eternal answers
Splendid work David! I second Alison in saying that the poem has your 'stamp of humour'. You never miss the bus.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Supratik and yes at my age there is no point in sentimental sadness. Nor do I view that there is anything ineresting beyond death - dust is dull stuff ! ...David

pommer on 16-01-2016
Eternal answers
Another well written contribution.I don't like to think of being run over by a bus,but who knows,one might be sitting in the theatre under a chandelier, and the bloody thing might crash down on you.That's life according to Murphy's law.Had the result of my scan,and my consultant sent me a letter saying ,and I quote, "unfortunately the scan showed no recurrence of the condition"I was so pleased it didn't.Now waiting for the DNA test of my biopsy.Wishing you all the best my friend, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Peter, I hope the biopsy has brought you good news by now. My thanks for your interest in the poem and if given the choice, I think I would prefer your chandelier. In my present case, blood poisoning right now is more likely!..Yours aye...David.

sweetwater on 16-01-2016
Eternal answers
A very grim subject given a humourous injection. A lighthearted approach to this sensitive subject makes it a very enjoyable read. My chance of being hit by any bus within the forty anything range is extremely, low as Banbury buses jump from 10 to 59, luckily 🙂 Sue.

Author's Reply:
Ditto hereabouts. Of course there is the school bus, but apart from that, two buses per week is all Dorset County Council can afford and one of these is under review. Thanks Sue...David

Gothicman on 16-01-2016
Eternal answers
David, I didn't understand your reply to my earlier comment on this fine piece, with its suggested typo correction, so I took it off. Yes, I've always met adversity with a mixture of exasperation and humour, plus a cup of tea, it's how we Brits deal with challenges. So I'm always in awe and admiration how you manage to still create, compose and finely tune the excellent level of poetry you still produce, knowing the physical and mental suffering and discomfort you're struggling with. I've always said your resolution and fortitude are your own worst enemies, but long may they continue to be effective and win the day! Much enjoyed rhyme, the content meaning, its inspiration, both worrying and moving.
Trevor (friend is an extraneous given)

Author's Reply:
Replied to privately....David

teifii on 17-01-2016
Eternal answers
Brilliant. A subject I can't help musing on at times. 83 is pretty ancient but I think gratefully about the debt I owe [as I suppose many do] to modern medicine, without which I wouldn't still be here.
Daff

Author's Reply:
At 92 Daff, I can probably give even more thanks to the medics! But the number of pills I have to take is the down side - 18 at the moment. My thanks for your reading and kind compliment, much appreciated....David

Pronto on 18-01-2016
Eternal answers
I loved your humorous approach to this grim subject David. In spite of the subject you made me smile. Just do try to miss the bus won't you. In fact ignore altogether it and walk it's better for you.

Author's Reply:

My good friend, now dead 5 years, was given the 'might be run over by a bus' statement by his GP and immediately developed a major psychological fear of all buses. He was a real nut case who refused to shake hands with anyone in case he caught an infection. Will consider your advice, but I am on the verge of losing the power to walk - a big traumatic event I assure you. My thanks Tony for your kind comment...David


The state of the State (posted on: 11-01-16)
The state of Britain? A new year greeting A different entry, motivated by Stormwolf's magnificent poem. Apologies to three earlier readers.

Can British skulls be thicker than before? And British brains, are they no longer sage? We witness still the madness at our core, few lifting but a finger yet in rage. We see of those who lead our parliament the purpose of their help-destroying goal, to cut the welfare state, their sole intent and sell its fabric parts to private role. When will we awake to what remains? Our public assets gone, the contest ends. The rich yet richer, poor remain in 'chains', the service worthless, 'lack of dividends'. That ''Capital'', the rampant God of Greed, his self-preserving system falling short; sees those who can't afford help have the need, the rest who can become his last resort. The profit basis, in the end found flawed, the banking rules dictate the money game. More must lead to more or be ignored; social sense excluded from the frame. ''Responsible'', ''benign'', ''controlled'' are hopes, but hollow, when the chips are down, they fall. The stench of avarice as Wall Street gropes, the nose that senses ''profit'' steals the ball. What brings a revolution to a world? What depth of destitution sparks a fire? What make of man and flag will be unfurled that leads the fight for freedom from the mire? David January 2015
Archived comments for The state of the State
Gothicman on 11-01-2016
The state of the State
Superbly sharp, relevant well-constructed poem, David, giving important messaging wide appeal. What is happening to the world?
Even reserved and dignified BBC's gone hyping mad now, David, all husky voices, fanfares, and precious legend-building! Promoting self, sod the rest is the name of the game now! The arab spring has become a final doom winter apocalyptic threat to civilised thinking! Ground troops, religious massacre, transitional screening camps, destruction of evil-destiny mosques! Where are we heading?
As a naive child, I thought both religion and royalty would dwindle away in my lifetime, that common sense would prevail more and more with intelligent values and a levelling of wealth spreading more and more out to a primitive world along with globalisation! But, the reverse is happening!
Happy New Year, by the way!
Friend Trevor

Author's Reply:
My thanks for commenting - rarer benefits these days for all who post. "Hyping mad" - loved that Trevor! I think the reverse of our teenage hopes is happening largely because of the wide disparity in development levels across the world - it is still in a form of colonial exploitation mode. Stir in religious wars and the fight for control of raw materials into the equation and the mess becomes unmanageable - no Pax Britannica or Pax Americana - just an Extortionate New Year for all in which the various proxy wars will be exploited to an increasing level. Nearer home, El Nino and the gulf stream may force the Scots and Northern Englanders to migrate southwards which puts England's southern half under the same stress from both directions. Are men to become Are women? Yours aye...David





stormwolf on 11-01-2016
The state of the State
Bravo! Standing ovation! The market is going into meltdown but the crooks at the top will always have their assets covered so to speak.
There is so much inequality and they say that when the economy becomes hopelessly depressed it's time for another war to keep the peasants occupied and make some more money for the war machine. I despair David.
I fear we have seen the best of what we had. You have lived and seen so much more than me. You have many tales to tell and much insight in your poems.
All we can do is take each day as it comes and love our dear ones like there is no tomorrow.
Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
Alison, I sometimes feel like you, a sense of despair. But the science-based voice inside me says there must always be a way towards a sensible world. Yes, the war machine, driven by the capitalist system is the prime cause of world distress - right now it is a fight for control of raw materials critical for energy production and mobility. How this will pan out is an unknown unknown - which gives me hope. If you were a young teenager I would advise you to migrate southwards before El Nino and the Gulf Stream make your country uninhabitable and the rush begins. As things are, we can only do as you so rightly say - love our families and enjoy what of life is still with us. The best gift we can give our children is a sound and intelligent education in the hope they will be able to sort things out. My thanks for your kindness - ever yours, David.

Pronto on 12-01-2016
The state of the State
You paint a grim but true picture. Looking around the world I see world war three has already started it's just that the dots have yet to be connected.

Author's Reply:
Yes Tony, I think you are right about a third major conflict already started - a childish folly based on a few words of biblical text used as cover for a struggle on commercial issues – or vice versa. My thanks for your generous mark….David

pommer on 12-01-2016
The state of the State
As usual a very apt presentation of the situation as it is and I suppose as it always will be.The great betrayal of the working classes by the politicians.Yes,I too feel like Pronto,that WW Three is not far away.What a world.Hope you are recovering David,your friend Peter.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Peter. I agree that a major conflict is nascent, but also feel that this one may be played as a proxy war by the US and Europe and maybe Russia. Hopefully the worldwide commercial slump will continue so that even rich nations cannot afford a major war. Thank you, my liver blood tests show some signs of recovery, but this may not progress in time prevent me losing use of my legs. Fingers crossed as usual and hope that for you, things are running smoothly...Friend David

sweetwater on 14-01-2016
The state of the State
Well, what can I possible add to all the above comments, nothing I suppose, so I will just say congratulations on such a stunning write. Of course I too go along in agreement with all you have said. We have been shouted down and dismissed by those we put our trust in to serve us best, but they are becoming ever more scheming, greedy and self serving and we are trampled as they go. I fear for the earth itself and those of us now and to come. Sue.

Author's Reply:
Dear Sue, I think we are of one mind over many things. Sincere thanks for your very kind words about my poem.....My best wishes....David


Where have they been? (posted on: 28-12-15)
Not just a teenage problem

Young fingers feel but have no grace, yet probe endowed with second sense, can find the most exciting place, but will they show due diligence? To go where none have gone before in virgin moves that offer much, tempted further to explore response to just the merest touch. The pressure points, the precious few whose secrets that your fingers seek, bring joy becoming known to you; remember them for use next week. What have you done since last we met, some clever movements useful found? Now lesson six, the iTunes set. How do you rate your Ipad sound? David December 2015

Archived comments for Where have they been?
Pronto on 29-12-2015
Where have they been?
Very witty David I enjoyed this poem.

Author's Reply:
Thanks, I was doubtful as to whether the joke was obvious enough - my wife did not get it at first. ...So glad you did...David

e-griff on 29-12-2015
Where have they been?
Appreciated that very much. My kind of humour. Some would say a crude denouement, but I'd say refined.

Author's Reply:
Thanks John for commenting and your denouement note - yes it was cruel in a way too. My best to you for the New Year...David.


Inhospitable Britain? (posted on: 21-12-15)
This poem is one of two written for Christmas.

The manic desire to balance the books in the face of a new Europe-wide humanitarian crisis is a cruel Trump-like isolationist folly. A disgrace to our land. In WW1 and WW2, Britain did not feel the pain that comes when battles rage on land, the buildings wrecked, no power, no main, the bullets whizzing past first hand, the shells and rockets, bombs beside the poison gas, no place to hide. Small wonder that our Euro friends are kind to migrants, let them stay. They know the suffering war intends; while we try keeping most away. Humanity not our strongest suit, Cameron's ploys bring disrepute. David. Christmas 2015
Archived comments for Inhospitable Britain?
jay12 on 21-12-2015
Inhospitable Britain?
Its maybe a little unfair as Britain paid a heavily price in both world wars and were not spared heavy aerial bombardment, especially in WW2. But your poem does say something about the state of attitudes towards immigrants by some. I think most people would be willing to help, its those spoon fed their opinions by the newspapers that lap up the tripe that they then take on board as their opinion. And don't get me started on David Cameron. Nice poem though.

Author's Reply:
Hi Jay, Appreciate your comment, thank you. Yes, Britain did have a dozen or so cities bombed only London severely in WW2, but that is totally different from having vast acres and whole living landscapes as the battlefield, every village, every farmhouse laid flat as all in the front line path is destroyed. I am sure you are right about the sentiments, but Andrea (below) begs to differ - we shall have to wait and see...My best, David

Andrea on 21-12-2015
Inhospitable Britain?
Very topical. But I take issue with


Small wonder that our Euro friends
are kind to migrants, let them stay.


It's the governments which are letting them stay, rather than the people who, in the main, are very unhappy with the whole thing. Certainly here in NL we have had lots of trouble with the new immigrants, including violence and rapes. It's even worse in Germany, and don't even get me started on Sweden!

So while I like your poem very much, I don't entirely agree with the sentiment 🙂



Author's Reply:
Andrea - What papers do you read/TV do you watch? Do you believe the media? Of course they will report all the worst items they can get their hands on. Maybe we have to wait a month or twelve before judgement - either way. Same applies to both of us. Thanks for comment nonetheless. Yours...David

sweetwater on 21-12-2015
Inhospitable Britain?
I agree with above comments, Britain is a small island and we are struggling to house and care for those already here, whether born here or from foreign lands. And while we feel compassion for the immigrants we can only do so much. Also we cannot afford to be blind to the constant threat of terrorism from anyone unknown, and they are all unknown to us.
However I enjoyed reading the poem and the thought that went into it. Sue.

Author's Reply:
My apologies, I posted my reply to you as another comment. In view of its length I have left it thus...My best...David

Bozzz on 21-12-2015
Inhospitable Britain?
I seem to be on a political hiding to nothing with my post! In my view, the Tory government's mania and struggle to balance the books within 5 years - with the consequent cuts all round - are the causes of our present inability to cope. Osborn's Plan A was set well before the major migrant issue and his refusal to deviate and face up to the need to take more time and allow for a more sensible attitude to our own major issues (Social services, poor pay rates etc) and now allow for more migrants, is at the root of the problem. Ah well - opinions differ and so be it. As for terrorists, in future all countries in Europe will have the same risks, but most with less ability to deal with them than us. Their mobility and the lack of inter -European border controls make it easy for them to strike, wherever they live. Thanks for commenting Sue - as always, my best to you. David

Author's Reply:

Pronto on 21-12-2015
Inhospitable Britain?
Hi David,
I enjoyed your well written poem but cannot agree with your sentiments mate. Britain didn't make the world or its troubles. Sure we should help in any way we can but we are a small island with limited infrastructure. We simply cannot sustain immigration on the scale that Germany has accepted. (I doubt they can either) Then of course there are the longer term issues of cultural differentials.
No government is doing enough to ensure integration of migrants, shitting themselves in case by doing that which is needed someone will accuse them of racism. It would be funny if it were not so serious. Glad you've stirred up some animated discussion though. Well done.


Author's Reply:
First, thank you Pronto for commenting on the poem and your kind words.
Sadly in most cases, Britain is indeed – within the past century - heavily responsible for many of the basic problems in many parts of the world. India, Pakistan and Afghanistan, Iraq, Israel, Egypt, Libya and South Africa come immediately to mind. To really stir it, USA ?? Joking aside, to offer to take 4000 Syrian migrants a year over five years is a mean and paltry number compared to the tens of thousands coming to other even smaller countries. It is true we are trying to finance attacks on the people smugglers, but that is a task without hope of significant results – the coastlines involved are just too long.
Again my thanks…David

Andrea on 21-12-2015
Inhospitable Britain?
David, I read newsites like RT, Al Jazeera, Liveleak and some Dutch News sites (AT5 etc). Liveleak (a sort of Wikileaks for vids) is especially good for videos. I haven't watched telly for many years.

I have 600 single male immigrants living 500 metres away from me in an old detention centre. False papers are rife and cheap to get. Most are not Syrian. I see the problems all the time.

Author's Reply:
Andrea, you read widely and I accept your view. How does Al Jazeera see it re UK? Yours, David

Pronto on 21-12-2015
Inhospitable Britain?
Sorry David I just need my two pence worth here. What happened in colonial times is long, long gone. Times have moved on and we should too. We are not responsible for the sins of our fathers. There is, for instance, a screeching minority clamouring to pay compensation for what happened in Kenya in the days of the Mau Mau. I hear no talk of Kenya apologising for the atrocities of the Mau Mau nor of compensation for the families of settlers who were mercilessly butchered by them. I'm just a bit sick of the culture of the 'one way guilt trip!'
Sure I don't want to see innocent babies die nor do I want us to import terrorism or the barbaric culture that deems any woman not encased in a'cloth cage' is a prostitute.
Right mate rant over thanks for the opportunity to vent my spleen. Off to bed now!

Author's Reply:
As a lullaby, I offer you the thought that Britain's past history is not strictly relevant to this discussion on migrants. I only replied because you mentioned it. Sleep sound. Sorry mate.

pommer on 22-12-2015
Inhospitable Britain?
Yes David, you touched a ticklish subject here, and many people would disagree. I myself keep a fairly open mind,having enjoyed great hospitality by your fellow countrymen when coming here as a prisoner of war.I shall never forget the acts of kindness I received.However,while I think that we should be very sympathetic to those poor souls from Syria, who have lost everything,I cannot feel sorry for those who come here here to scrounge and exploit the welfare state.I remember the plight of so many refugees towards the end of the last war,when we were advancing for one of the last skirmishes,meeting up with streams of homeless people, old women, old men, children.of all nationalities from the east,trying to flee from the advancing soviet troops. What a pityful sight.I have never forgotten it.Hence my sympathy with those poor Syrians.
David this is a very well thought out poem.Well done.Peter

Author's Reply:
Hi Peter, thanks for coming to my aid and the generous mark on the poem itself! I can understand the other views expressed and have tried to respond - though I fear not acceptably. It will not deter me from showing my disapproval of some of their views. I do respect Andrea's input and agree her point - despite the fact that her example near neighbours are not Syrian refugees fleeing war. It is well known that many fleeing Syria are middle class professionals. Best wishes...David

Andrea on 23-12-2015
Inhospitable Britain?
I don't know David, you'd have to do your own reading 🙂 Al Jazeera is here --> Al Jazeera and RT is here --> RT News -- Both are a good start is you're used to the Likes of the BBC and Fox.

Interesting comments you're raised!

Merry Christmas 🙂

Author's Reply:

Supratik on 24-12-2015
Inhospitable Britain?
Let this discussion be on. I am enjoying it... and to your poem David, I have my appreciation. Supratik

Author's Reply:
Thank you Supratik - I am glad you are enjoying your independent role.
Seasons greetings my friend....David

Supratik on 25-12-2015
Inhospitable Britain?
Yes, Merry Christmas to you and your family David! Keep smiling, don't be too serious, have chocolates and sex. Yours, Supratik

Author's Reply:
Your independent advice on how to spend Christmas very welcome - I will do my best to rise to the occasion! My best wishes to you and family,

Supratik on 26-12-2015
Inhospitable Britain?
But didn't I tell you that for me sex was god? 🙂

Author's Reply:


We're all on someone else's list (posted on: 18-12-15)
We have a choice, but so do the List makers.


We're all of us on someone's list, most to say ''Afraid not you''. Others more the pragmatist, if you can pay, you're welcome too. The supermarkets study us, assess our needs, the public mean. Their list is like a blunderbuss that lurks behind the Dorset scene. At school I sang the hymns with joy, but never prayed to God since then. Saint Peter will say ''Not this boy, unforgivable. Amen''. In Purgatory you're So and So, what you've done will count for nought, maybe ''Come in'', maybe ''Go'', absolution easy bought. The Devil's spoon for all to sup, entry granted on the nod. Secular prayers when standing up, work better than on knees to God. So Hell's the place for folk like me, I took my chances, played my role, loved mankind, not deity; burned to dust, no thought of soul. A thousand other lists I'm on, some paid up, but mostly not before I'm finished, dead and gone, sprinkled over Camelot. David December 2015

Archived comments for We're all on someone else's list
e-griff on 19-12-2015
Were all on someone elses list
Nice poem. I wonder how many lists I'm on? (or not, as you say)

I'd put an 'I' in front of 'took my chances', it just seems to flow better and in addition would be more grammatical. 🙂

Author's Reply:
Yes John, I agree the I. Thanks...David

sweetwater on 20-12-2015
Were all on someone elses list
This has set me thinking, it seems in this modern world everyone else knows more about us than we do which is worrying. Sue.

Author's Reply:
Yes Sue, I think you have a point. Thank you for reading. Comments seem scarce these days - we are all too busy doing things for the list-makers to record...Yours, David.

Mikeverdi on 20-12-2015
Were all on someone elses list
It's a scary thought at times, how much big brother knows about us. In the end will it matter that 'Hill of beans' not to you and me I think, too late to give a shit.
Nice writing David.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thank you Mike for being with me. Very few submitting at the moment. Trust you a bearing up as usual. My next scan is on 29th. Last hope of diagnosis. Yours aye...David

Gee on 20-12-2015
Were all on someone elses list
I particularly liked the last but one stanza. Very nice flow to this and great reading. Thanks for posting it.

Author's Reply:


Disabled Duty Calls (posted on: 14-12-15)
Grow old - desire to stay alive? Then best to let the women drive.

Disabled, blue, a badge of shame? For cowardice? Reward for life? The penalty for being lame, handicapped, for use by wife! Double yellow lines are free for fate has now enfeebled me, Improved the latest shopping spree. I stay three hours, just wait and see. I have no legal rights in law, none written into marriage vows; a situation none foresaw: her use of what my state allows. For parking free with love and hope, the least that I can be - of use, a duty now to help her cope; to pause and let my ire diffuse! I sit in patience, taking stock, what passes by in hurried way; the envy strikes, electric shock, my legs no longer can obey. The Tesco tills have rattled hard, unaware I'm playing a part. The bill grows longer by the yard, mine but to watch my state of art, a seat kept warm and duty done. The trolley's here, bung full of stuff unloading stage has just begun by then my poor wife's had enough. The crippled bones that age has brought, the modest steps allowed in pain. The wish is further from the thought yet asks our limbs to move again. David December 2015

Archived comments for Disabled Duty Calls
Supratik on 14-12-2015
Disabled Duty Calls
Very well written, as usual. I loved the last stanza! Just curious to know if she read the poem. This goes into my faves!!!

Author's Reply:
Yes Supratik, she reads everything, but occasionally I make changes before submitting. Many thanks for your reading and comment too! I am proud that you count the poem as a fav'. My beast, David.

Gee on 14-12-2015
Disabled Duty Calls
Age can be so cruel at times. Very expressive and well written. The last part really stays with the reader.

Author's Reply:
Many thanks, Gee. I wish I could do more to help Meg who is both wife and carer and I am still without diagnosis. One feels written off but one has to live with that and keep going...David

Gothicman on 14-12-2015
Disabled Duty Calls
I've got a feeling an ex-electronics engineer like you, David has a voracious appetite requiring several trips to Tescos and Off-Licence a week; for your eleven o'clock sandwich you probably consume a horse between two mattresses with a whole jar of French mustard and a Guinness! Anyway at least you stop the car being stolen, while the good woman drags the shopping trollies back and forth? On a serious note, can't be much fun because you probably loved driving round those narrow lanes, through the horse shit! Hahaha! Great sad and tender poem in flawless style, and long may we read them and admire the skill.
Friend Trevor

Author's Reply:
Ah Friend Trevor, you are forever conjuring great adventure and kind thoughts for the lame duck. Fading slowly to an ending makes one long for a quicker one, but on the other hand if one can still write and amuse, that is a great yet selfish motivator to rumble on. My thanks for your encouragement…yours ...David

THEGOLDENEGG on 14-12-2015
Disabled Duty Calls
The last verse is very good indeed.

You have to stop trying to keep an eye on your wife's expenditure and trust her :-). I spent 3 months in hospital, totally dependent on wife and kids. She managed splendidly.

At the time, I eventually recovered, so was glad to hand my blue disc back. However, now I feel I may need one again as I creak and stumble out of my car ... I do tend to park in disabled spaces (at services etc, not in town) and walk badly in case anyone's looking.

Author's Reply:
Yes John, creaking and stumbling is nature's method of information dispensing - we have to pick up the crumbs and take note. Let's hope your legs will be able to stay the course for longer - mobility means life. Thanks for kind words....David

e-griff on 14-12-2015
Disabled Duty Calls
sorry, that was me.forgot to change identity ... doh! as they say .....

Author's Reply:

pommer on 14-12-2015
Disabled Duty Calls
Thank you for sharing David.Once again a well written account.I only wish for myself that I still could drive, but I dare not.Still, I am still able to care for the one I have loved all my life, and that is something to be thankful for.Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Dear Peter. I do not know whether your wife is in a condition to understand the meaning of dependency on you - it is a terrible feeling of guilt. Perhaps nature is acting to prevent this?Your own feelings of hardships in carrying the burden may be in a way similar because you are helpless to cure her problem. Your own pride in feeling willing duty is the matching motivator - you illustrate the true humanity of mankind e.g.,love. My best, David

Mikeverdi on 14-12-2015
Disabled Duty Calls
Oh dear David, what a pickle. I can only offer sympathy with both of you, its hard to give over decision making when all your life has been spent making them, when all you've ever been is the boss. Our wives bear the brunt of our frustration. I can only hope that this set back is only temporary...for both your sakes. Meg deserves a medal anyway 😁
Mike

Author's Reply:
Mike, good friend. We are both on paths which have problematic endings but I envy your selfless courage in refraining from exposing your related thoughts in print.
My very best to you and Lesley…David

sweetwater on 17-12-2015
Disabled Duty Calls
Brilliantly written, I have a blue badge because of my arthritis but no car, so when I go places with my family who have young children it helps me and gives them more space to get kids pushchair etc out, plus less walking so we all win. But I did feel a lesser member of society carrying a badge of shame and felt more decrepit than I am, but I'm over that now. Luckily I don't have ' another half ' to use and abuse the badge. You have caught the indignity and frustration perfectly. Sue xx

Author's Reply:
Sue, my thanks for your very kind and discerning comment - it made me feel better and I must try to take a more positive view. Yours...David


In harms way (posted on: 11-12-15)
News headlines do not make good poetry, even for six-year olds. Typical news content, hopefully not a typical situation at home.

"Children, for a treat you be good boys and sit beside us and eat your tea while we watch the TV news. Geoff, please straighten Jimmy's napkin." ''Here are the main important items. A man was knifed in Underground, the murder weapon not yet found. Two women dead inside their flat, three suspects held in 'tit for tat'. Ten children die as bus collides. Six mothers hurt in fairground rides. Bomb explodes as rogue drone dives, a hundred feared may lose their lives. Man dies in a ladder fall. Mother stoned to death at ball. Sally hangs herself at home. Students die in plane at Rome. Lion escapes from circus ring. Wasp kills man with single sting. Terrorist strikes MP in bed. Train hits car, three children dead. 5-year old drowns on a beach. More after the break Etc etc And that is the end of the news''. Jimmy, you've hardly eaten anything ! David December 2015
Archived comments for In harms way
Gee on 11-12-2015
In harms way
No wonder children have nightmares. Your poem makes an interesting point. If we're responsible, we make sure kids don't see tv programs that aren't too mature for them, yet the news is horrendous and it's too easy for them to view it.

Author's Reply:
Thank you for reading - I trust you will have no nightmares for so doing! Yours...David

Mikeverdi on 12-12-2015
In harms way
When you and I grew up we only knew what we were told. Now kids can find out anything about anything, just Google it.
Did our innocence protect us, or hold us back?
Nice piece David
Mike

Author's Reply:
Not really a nice piece - but a nasty one to make a point !. Many thanks Mike.
Yours aye...David

e-griff on 12-12-2015
In harms way
I liked the list very much, bounced along well and made sense. The only sour note was the 200 losing their feet - odd, and marginally comical, which is out of place here. I'd like to see that line changed to fit the mood better.
Otherwise - a 'good read' 🙂 JohnG

Author's Reply:
Thanks John, agree, line is poor, will modify asap. Best wishes, David

teifii on 12-12-2015
In harms way
Very effective. Hope it has effect on some parents. Of course the children are better at finding their way to all sorted on computer but hopefully responsible parents may at least discuss after the news.
Daff

Author's Reply:
My thanks Daff, sadly behaviour in our mad world is projected across the mountains to children in Wales. Unlike the water and Einstein's light, this evil flow will not step sideways to miss your house! My best...David

pommer on 12-12-2015
In harms way
Topical as usual David,our generation may not have had the means to find out ,but we learned to discover by enquiring and searching. We also had to grow up all too quick.A well composed piece.Hope you are better.I am having a setback.Still must stay happy. Peter.

Author's Reply:
Sorry to hear you have a setback – I guess they are par for the course for us oldies – for I am in the same boat. No diagnosis, yet more scans. Thanks for making the time to come on board – Peter. Wishing you all the best..David


Snowflakes tumble (posted on: 07-12-15)
Short simple balladic event no hidden meanings, happy ending. Its Christmas !

Snowflakes tumble, show no quarter, touch the ground to join their friends. at twelve-inch thick means two of water. Flood? What nature then intends? The rain comes pelting down at last; goodbye peace, goodbye snow. Ground water table rising fast, never mind the river flow. At dusk we fear the coming dawn; wellies now sit in a row at foot of stairs, alert, forlorn. Squelchy breakfast? Maybe so! Half way through our coffee cups the power cut comes, the curses start. Bloody candles gone astray, the torch we hid when thinking smart, no matches left to greet the day. Click the camping gas an art, no cylinders our wits agley, panic stations a la carte. The pumps, no longer in their prime, can sit and watch, now mesmerised. The water knows, can take its time, while we, in shock, stay unsurprised. Abandon ship now left unsaid, ''Go upstairs and back to bed'', but half way, up a flash of light. The 'hot line' boys have got it right. Now water draining from the hall, a Merry Christmas, one and all. David December 2015
Archived comments for Snowflakes tumble
Supratik on 07-12-2015
Snowflakes tumble
David! This is excellent! The last line is flawlessly placed. And yes no innuendos indeed. It's Christmas. Best. Supratik

Author's Reply:
A touch on the practical side, yes, but Xmas is a good time to remember those who are less lucky.
Thank you SupratiK for favourable commenting. I was worried.....David

sweetwater on 07-12-2015
Snowflakes tumble
Really enjoyed this, the wretched power cuts come when least expected and all the 'emergency' plans in one's head never reach the hands in times of need, I experienced two bouts of flooding in my previous home luckily the power held out, and the water only breached the small conservatory, but the clearing up was awful. Lovely twist of humour brightening ( without the need for electrical help ) a serious problem. Sue : ) xx

Author's Reply:
Hi Sue, you put your finger on it - the last time we had a flood when the loo cylinder overflowed in the night. we had just lent the special tool needed to turn the mains water off in the street to a neighbour who had gone way for Xmas - Sod's Law. Enjoyment?...No. Thanks for the take on the issues and my best wishes XXX David

Mikeverdi on 08-12-2015
Snowflakes tumble
Life in Tarrant must be fraught after the last swamping, let's hope a repeat isn't on the cards. Great writing David.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike - so glad you are feeling a touch better. Signs are good to avoid a repetition of previous problems this year, though we cannot rule out an uninvited wet guest quite yet....My very best to you both...David

Gothicman on 09-12-2015
Snowflakes tumble
Yes, drafted and worded with such relevance with typical British humour and defiance! A situation that can be devastating and tragic in washing away the underpinnings of one's life, the steadfast home. I do hope your area is spared these increasing natural risks this time, often insufficiently provisioned against, the choice natural landscape or barricaded waterways not being easy. Snow and a slow thaw would be better. well-formulated content and lyrically brilliant.
Friend, Trevor

Author's Reply:
Thank you Trevor. Bad news yesterday worse than threat of flood but playing hard on what time is left of an ancient instrument. Yours aye...David

teifii on 09-12-2015
Snowflakes tumble
Very good writing and probably a sorely needed touch of humour. I doubt if I could see the funny side of recent floods but I am very lucky in living in a house that never floods. The water rushes down the mountainside, half fills my neighbours famyard and then pours over a ten foot drop to big fiels en route to the river.
Daffni

Author's Reply:
Hi Daffni, Sounds idyllic. You are a lucky person that the water rushing down the mountainside has chosen to bypass your house I wish that were true of ours, but that's life in the Dorset hills. Yet this year sadly the poor folk up north are copping it. Thanks to the Gulf stream, we have been spared so far. Thank you for commenting...my best wishes...David


After the Storm (posted on: 04-12-15)
A short non-lyrical poem for you, my good friend Jim. I cannot match your descriptive powers.


Whirlwinds come in varied form to body, mind and soul; the wreckage, resting after storm stays battered, still, yet whole; for nature, indestructible, takes energy in stride: conversion ineluctable; recovers from the ride. David December 2015

Archived comments for After the Storm

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In Liverpool (posted on: 04-12-15)
In yesteryear there was a road.


Where are the men of yesteryear, who trod the pavement, pub to pub, that made intention crystal clear: the search for lip and leg to rub. In Liverpool, a road they say, with alternating church and bar at every corner, sin or pray, for sure they don't get very far. With alcohol and god in mix the knees with time will start to give, but Irish have their clever tricks; a hazard of the trade to live. They prayed in pubs and drank in church, the liver girls could not resist a drunken lad in kneeling mode, just easy meat for lasses pissed. David December 2015

Archived comments for In Liverpool
Nemo on 04-12-2015
In Liverpool
They trod Lime Street, too, I think, overseen by the Liver birds. It's all changed now - Où sont les neiges d'antan and al that.
Personal experience, David?

Gerald

Author's Reply:
Thanks Gerald. I finally left Liverpool when I was 10, so I never had the pleasure. But I was told of the frightful things that might happen to me if I ever ventured beyond the end of our road ! Cheers, David

Pronto on 05-12-2015
In Liverpool
Well I'll stand at the bottom of Scotty Road and sing this one day ('Appen) Great images conjured up for me.Loved it.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Tony. In your tough scale of values I would love to know how to get to a mark of ten! Leaving aside your own work, has anyone succeeded? Is it just what takes your fancy or based on a set of criteria?. I am keen to learn too...Yours, David

Pronto on 06-12-2015
In Liverpool
Hi David,
I suppose when it comes to ratings I'm just a quirky owd bar steward. It's mostly what moves me emotionally. There are some pieces I have written that were 'throwaway' and have given nibs. Others I thought were quite good have not even had many reads let alone comments. Latest example was my work 'Prejudice' maybe it's the title putting folk off? I don't know. I just keep plodding away hoping to get better. You will always be one of my favourites though. 🙂

Author's Reply:
I agree that often one writes something one feels is poor and suddenly a nib appears. I agree too about the title - it must sell the product ! Appreciate the complement very much. Yours aye, David

sweetwater on 06-12-2015
In Liverpool
I love the atmosphere and characters summoning up vivid images of a time not too long ago. 🙂 Sue.

Author's Reply:
Drinks were mainly only available in pubs those days - today the whole problem has escalated into chaos. Glad you felt the ambience of the 1930s...XXX...David


The power of prayer in brief(s)? (posted on: 30-11-15)
Perhaps not quite what God intended, more what Darwin suggested, Dawkins Selfish Gene defined ‒ and the villains of Rotherham exploited.


Sunday prayer, perchance to gaze, imagine her bare, in devil's ways. Sexual prayer, when hug means bed, not loving care, but reason fled. Seminal prayer, eye contact joins, chemistry flare from lips to loins. Social prayer, think six a-bed, an orgy lair; sufficient said. Secular prayer, when hope means all, no help to spare from her Town Hall. David November 2015

Archived comments for The power of prayer in brief(s)?
sweetwater on 30-11-2015
The power of prayer – in brief(s)?
Had a smile while reading this, I loved all the naughtiness behind each verse, shine's a whole new light on saying ones prayers. 🙂 Sue.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Sue. I guess naughtiness is what the selfish gene is all about, and maybe it is just as evident in women as in men? Yours, David

Gothicman on 01-12-2015
The power of prayer – in brief(s)?
Brilliant and highly perceptive observations as per usual, David. "From lips to loins" Hahaha! Not many appreciate you mean like-for-like pairing in descending order of merit! Hahaha! Not one for the church magazine! Brilliant brevity, so much disgusting hidden in the fallacy of Holy Orders! Excellent wit!
Trevor

Author's Reply:
Thank you Trevor. I believe promulgation of the deceit of prayer to a god expecting a favour to be the greatest sin ever committed by human beings who do so. They may seek forgiveness, but never for their worst crime. Have you read about the ‘Great Templeton Experiment’ on prayer? Interesting.
Enjoy your Island...David

shadow on 01-12-2015
The power of prayer – in brief(s)?
Cheeky!

Author's Reply:
Thank you Shadow and yes, you are spot on. But my intention is to expose reality and hence an appeal for help to the victims who suffer and whose concerns are ignored by those who are paid to protect them. Yours aye....David

stormwolf on 03-12-2015
The power of prayer – in brief(s)?
Bloody marvelous David. You rogue you!
Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
Dear Alison, delighted to see you on line as ever, but we are hoping for more of your magic poetic lines to view ourselves soon. As to my own poetic roguery, of course such mischievous thoughts would never cross my simple mind in a month of Sundays! My thanks for your kind words and that turns my real mind to your well-being and to your mother. You live by a river and there are so many flood areas up north, I hope you both at least are high and dry. Will write shortly. Your David

Supratik on 04-12-2015
The power of prayer – in brief(s)?
Ha ha ha!!!! O Darwin!!!

Author's Reply:
Yes indeed Darwin. I am not the first to hint of blame on him for the sexual misbehaviour of mankind - the Catholic church pointed the way! Thanks for calling ...David


Tantalus or poisoned chalice? (posted on: 27-11-15)    
Some examples.


Tantalus or poisoned chalice? tempting job or fatal post, offered in a tide of malice; who will gain the least or most? President of bloodied France, wonders what can happen next. World sits fearful, eyes askance. Gay Paris or Syrie text? Mad, in charge of Istanbul his aircraft lurk on border lines. Who on who is pulling wool? seconds error death defines. White House pussyfoots all day, Republicans mix fools with folly; 'Trump'ets blow and strumpets play, all candidates now 'off their trolley'. Assad vies for pride of place, a puppet's role that has no say; Kremlin trumping NATO's ace, Europe sits in disarray. Prime Minister in fear of vote seeks bombing role, crusader 'lite'. War on ISIS by remote? No solution yet in sight. The Chancellor has rolled his dice, no easy options here to call. Who to please, who sacrifice, with votes in mind, not weal of all. Minister for Northern I, poor patellas nobbled oft; peace is pie in murky sky, harder line or play it soft? David November 2015

Archived comments for Tantalus or poisoned chalice?
Mikeverdi on 27-11-2015
Tantalus or poisoned chalice?
Right on point as always David, it will take some brave steps to sort out the problems in this one. Too rich for my pen.
Mike

Author's Reply:
About brave steps, you are right Mike. Afraid there are not enough intelligent fools to sort out the mess. Thanks for being an early bird, your pen is still there - loaded ! Yours aye, David

ValDohren on 27-11-2015
Tantalus or poisoned chalice?
Well penned David, and goodness knows where it will all end.
Val xx

Author's Reply:
Thanks Val - good to see you writing in great form. We rhymers must stick together - the world is trying to write us out as history. All the events look like a recipe for disaster. My best ...David

Texasgreg on 27-11-2015
Tantalus or poisoned chalice?
Super good stuff, David!

Aye, my experience and take on history says there is no winnable war short of total annihilation and occupation to the point of genocide. Who wants or can afford that at the expense of ones own society or soul?

Yes, we're doomed to repeat societal errors over and over until it's corrected by an earth emptied of all mankind...

Greg 🙂

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Author's Reply:
Tend to agree with you Tex. Who will take over from us? Flies, pigeons, rats, amoeba perhaps then we can start all over again ! Yours aye...David

Gothicman on 27-11-2015
Tantalus or poisoned chalice?
David, good poetry like this awakens the deepest indignation and disgust when confronted now with a sick religious world that's totally lost its civilising direction, its democracy, and development of decent human values. The religious disease is prevalent! I don't like being followed by wise, rational opportunists so I've reduced my earlier answer, and will bow out for awhile. The compliment is that your poetry is always technical perfection so not commented so much on, the content, and its effect on the reader is however the most important aspect, and should be included as you raise all the relevant issues, are consequent in your reasoning and your own take on things, something I particularly admire you for.
Friend Trevor

The site has a uninspiring culture just now; travelling away; see you in the new year, David, seasonal greetings and keep up the good fight! Trevor

Author's Reply:
Thank you - I will sorely miss you Trevor, good friend. You are one of the few that gives thoughtful comments relating to content. I cannot but completely agree with what you say this time. I too do not trust Erdogan - a slimy political operator. Well, enjoy your motorised ski rides - keep warm and keep fit - out of harms way. Yours aye...David

franciman on 27-11-2015
Tantalus or poisoned chalice?
White House pussyfoots all day,
Republicans mix fools with folly;
‘Trump’ets blow and strumpets play,
all candidates now ‘off their trolley’.

The highlight of the many highlights in this poem, David. I won't discuss the varied moralities of your poetry, my interest is served by your excellent versifying. You have a keen, satyrical eye, my friend.
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Thank you Jim - coming from you (in the depths of France?) - greatly appreciated. But your comments on moralities would have been much appreciated too and taken seriously, for I know you are not afraid to voice them as I do mine - all part of the game, though admittedly often we do not have time for these points. Mike seems to be coping well with the indignities involved in treatment - poor chap. Friend David

Ionicus on 28-11-2015
Tantalus or poisoned chalice?
It is, unquestionably, a mad, mad, mad world, David, as you so appositely point out in this acerbic satire.
Best, Luigi

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi - As Mike said a while back, if the right people read my stuff I would be behind bars by now - dangerous; precautionary imprisonment?

pommer on 28-11-2015
Tantalus or poisoned chalice?
As good as ever and to the point. What a mad world we live in.Well done David, Your friend Peter.

Author's Reply:
Hi friend Peter, thank you. As like me, you probably realise that keeping sharp does get harder as we trundle along through the eighties and nineties. You have the added task of caring for your wife whereas mine cares for me - in this society carers are pure gold - you have my warmest feelings. My best wishes, David

shadow on 29-11-2015
Tantalus or poisoned chalice?
Perhaps we should threaten to aim Trident at Daesh, that would put the wind up them - I mean, that's what we keep it for . . . isn't it?

Author's Reply:
Apols for delay. I am not sure that would work - they want to die and would all expect to be martyrs and besides, heaven would not cope with the number of virgins required. Thanks for calling ...David


The 'Bird syndrome' (posted on: 23-11-15)
A layman's perspective

An interest in birds is something I would wish upon all of my offspring and theirs. Birds are everywhere and every second spent out of doors is an invitation to the pleasure of their company. It's a bit like fishing off the beach or gambling on the Stock Exchange; you never know what might turn up next. Some say forever seeking rarities is a fool's errand and can cost much time and money. You do not have to be a 'twitcher' to grow rich in the enjoyment of the more common species. Watching sparrows with their beautiful brown colourings and flirty behaviour gives me more pleasure than would sitting in a hide waiting hours for a few seconds of flypast by a single Montagu's Harrier. If you hang a peanut dispenser in the garden in the winter, working out the pecking order of the various interested species is great fun and full of surprises - size is not everything, but almost. This is not to say that some birds are not boring. Rooks are boring, partly because they are black and there are too many of them, partly because they are mostly a long way off and their nests are too high to enable the average 'bird-noticer' to watch them and partly because they appear to have no manners. I dislike wood pigeons, but admit they are superbly designed aerodynamically and while their chest structure was intended originally to support long distance flight at high speed, it has also proved to be a valuable defence against the shotgun. They have prospered. Pure chance? Or Darwinian adaptation in anticipation of the future invention of firearms? In this short piece I have already mentioned two human species, namely the 'twitcher' and the 'bird-noticer'. Simon Barnes, Times sports columnist and well-known bird enthusiast, has defined himself as yet another, the 'bad birdwatcher'. This does not describe a human that watches bad birds, but a three star twitcher who seeks the presence of birds for fun and for writing journalistic pieces rather than as a dedicated logger. In contrast the author, a humble and semi-literate bird-noticer, does not travel miles for specific sightings, but just enjoys the varieties nature provides as and when they appear. Those who indulge in playing the graded verb/noun game, (the human equivalent of pecking order) - would no doubt place me at the bottom of the pile like this : I am a 'twitcher' He is a 'birdwatcher' They are merely 'bird noticers' What then is the 'Bird Syndrome? A state of mind perhaps? When we moved from Devon to Dorset, a significant symptom appeared. Over seventeen years I made a list of all the bird species we had seen from our windows and garden. The total was fifty two. The one I enjoyed the most was the goldcrest. It is the smallest bird in Britain, very shy and seemed to love the ancient Bramley apple trees we used for shade in summer and pies in winter. Until ten years ago the cuckoo was a regular summer caller, but it has become a rare visitor in these parts - a shortage of suitable hosts for its eggs, perhaps. In Dorset, turtle doves have also become only occasional migrants and this is surprising as our climate change seems to be moving us steadily towards a Mediterranean ambient. Blame is too diffuse for the average person to speak upon with confidence, but apart from feral collared doves, supermarkets and consequent farming practice must surely qualify as main contenders. The probable truth is that we are all culpable in one way or another. Last week, driving not half a mile from our house down the lane, a buzzard took off in front of us. As it struggled to gain height we were amazed to see that it had a yard-long grass snake in its claws. That's a rarity. Another is that my sister Catherine is a sculptress and she has received a commission to create an oversize garden statue of a great bustard. These birds, the heaviest known flying species, have been extinct in this country for a century or more. They are being re-introduced and she invited me to join her in a visit to the secret sanctuary in Wiltshire where they are being quarantined after being imported from Russia, nurtured and launched. Years ago, man was their greatest enemy - today it is the fox. We were allowed into the pen to take photographs. I think I must be the first octogenarian that has been pecked by a great bustard in the UK for 100 years and survived. It drew blood. More important, the bird is also still in good health. (Remember John Gilpin. The dog bit his leg, but "The dog it was that died").* Still on big birds, during a recent family holiday in South Africa to retrace my grandfather's footsteps we stopped to visit an ostrich farm. About fifty visitors, mostly Germans, were seated in a small grandstand to view the proceedings. After the demonstration of handling methods came a call to the audience for a volunteer to take a ride. There was a long stony silence. Anxious to prove to my wife that I really was braver than my brother and that Brits were tougher than Germans, foolishly my hand was raised. I was helped onto the back of the largest bird. There were neither proper saddle nor reins and no stirrups. You had to hold on to the folded wings. Off we went, first trotting around the field then cantering and finally galloping - if those are the correct terms for bird velocities. Ostriches are capable of very high speeds in excess of sixty mph and this one was clearly enjoying itself. I hung on like grim death while the wind in my contorted face grew to gale force. It was just like my first experience of flying in a jumbo jet; I kept wondering when, or indeed whether, we were going to take off. The folly of my bravado was becoming apparent - could I hold on long enough without being thrown? Luckily one of the attendants was able to grab the neck of my bird and slow it down. I slid to terra firma, greatly relieved in all senses. I have no hesitation in claiming the 'World's 100 yards groundspeed record for men over 75 riding an ostrich'. Unfortunately the Olympic Committee have not yet seen fit to send me my gold medal, but as a trained aerodynamicist the experience gave me a new perspective on birds - how awful the forbears of the ostrich must have felt when it dawned on them that they could no longer fly. According to my biology teacher (Oh - surely not Mr Darwin again), they decided to develop longer legs in order to outpace their predators on land - Mother Nature may sometimes be a bitch, but she is also a pragmatist. Nearer home, a short break in North Cornwall made me realize the even more the serious psychological dangers lurking within the dreaded 'bird syndrome'. As we reached our hotel on the last evening after dawdling peacefully along the cliff-ridden coastal roads I realised that, throughout that day, in my mind every damned crow had been viewed as a potential chough. Instinct hopes vainly for surprises; reality rules. The final symptom had arrived. * William Cowper's epic poem, 'John Gilpin's Ride'. David November 2015
Archived comments for The 'Bird syndrome'
Gothicman on 24-11-2015
The Bird syndrome
I'm merely an opportunist bird observer. I like looking at trains too, but I don't spot either. Sad that so many species are dwindling. The world will soon sound as empty as the days after Verdun! How we take their privileged presence for granted! Great humorous take on diverse bird life, David. Humorous and informative. Interesting read. You have been an ubiquitous bugger! Brightened up a dull day for a few moments.
Friend, Trevor

Author's Reply:
To live long enough to be called ubiquitous and to brighten for a few milliseconds the Trevorian day – compliments indeed – my thanks. The real question is whether Mother Nature can give birth to new bird species to replace the ones that disappear? Or has she given up on us? My best…David

shadow on 24-11-2015
The Bird syndrome
I think you were brave, riding that ostrich. I've seen the way they look at people, and they do not have our welfare at heart. Interesting article. I used to like watching the birds in our garden. Sadly since moving to a flat, all we see are pigeons, crows and magpies on the roof opposite, with the occasional gull. Very boring.

Author's Reply:
I was fascinated by your comment on the way a bird can look at people. Yes I suppose we are all enemies when push comes to bird shove. And if we carry on the way we humans are doing now, assorted pigeons, crows, rooks and herring gulls will be the only survivors. A terrible thought - a world without birdsong would be a terrible place. My thanks for reading...David


Ministry papers get the treatment (posted on: 13-11-15)
Freedom of Information Act applied on Dartmoor.

While working as a consultant for the The Department of Trade Industry, my job was to advise companies all over the country that were starting to set up robotic assembly techniques for manufacturing miniature electronic circuits. The pitfalls and how to avoid them. On a lighter note there was one embarrassing near-disaster to report and unexpected pitfall for myself. In those days I took work with me wherever I went and this time I planned to spend a night with my son, Chris, in Devon en route to a client in Cornwall. I had just arrived at his farmyard on the edge of Dartmoor and jumped out of my car to be greeted and taken indoors for tea and cake. Being sated, I returned to the car to bring my luggage indoors but could not find a wad of Ministry papers left on the back seat. I knew they had been there when I got out and then realised that I had left one of the car doors open. One of Christopher's goats had climbed in and devoured them. I rang the DTI immediately to inform them and to ask for replacement copies. "I am calling to report the loss of classified Ministry papers". "Oh yes. What are they, how did you lose them and where? Are there any suspicious circumstances and if so have you notified the police"? "They have been eaten by a goat", I said lamely. "Eaten by a what"?, came the incredulous question. "A goat, g o a t, goat", I spelled out. "Mr Boswell, we know you are a consultant, but if this is a joke, it is definitely out of order". I then explained the circumstances. There was a long pause before the reply came. "We are prepared to avoid the need for an official investigation into the loss of the papers provided you can recover enough bits to establish the truth of your story - chewed or otherwise. But under no circumstances will we accept goat turds as evidence". Luckily there were enough bits of paper on the car floor and all was well, but it was an awkward situation. I had horrible visions of newspaper headlines - 'Senior Ministry consultant feeds top secret papers to his son's goats in Devon'.Instant dismissal
Archived comments for Ministry papers get the treatment
stormwolf on 13-11-2015
Ministry papers get the treatment
Hi David,
I commented on this, this morning from the train along with Corin's poem but seems that they disappeared in transit.
I was saying that I do know that goats will eat almost anything and that you maybe felt a bit of a goat too!
Better than leaving them on the evening train though!
Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
Thank you Alison. Sorry, hospital

pommer on 15-11-2015
Ministry papers get the treatment
Hello David,
I can't help smiling to myself.I hope that the papers did not result in the goat becoming robotic.I can see the funny side of the Ministry official receiving your call being flummoxed. I am sure he could not find a regulation that covers such extraordinary incidents. Enjoyed reading it David. Be lucky,Peter

Author's Reply:
THANK YOU pERTER, SORRY - HOPSITAL

Gothicman on 15-11-2015
Ministry papers get the treatment
I'm tempted to say you're kidding, but will resist! I can imagine this story being true, except for the "goat turds as evidence", unless it was meant to be a facetious remark to remind you of the very careless act of folly on your part! Your son didn't buy the goats of representatives from Siemens or Honeywell etc? Competitors? Well, one more pitfall added to your brief, don't leave engineering papers in open cars near goats or foreign spies! I had a friend who visited the Regents park Zoo with his family, his youngest became adrift, to be finally reunited late in the day, on returning to the car park, his car was standing skew whiff, wheels too! An apologising attendant explained that after closing, they used the car park to exercise the elephants, being the only large open area, and a big bull elephant sat on his car! They would pay for repairs. He drove home with the car bouncing about in all directions like Fred Flintstone' car, and a police patrol stopped him, asking him what had happened! He said an elephant sat on it, and spent the night in a cell! Should have said anything else but the truth he told me later! Hahaha!
Anyway, how much did the Russians pay you, you old fraud, David. Eaten by goats, pull the other one!
Friend Trevor.

Author's Reply:
tHYANK YOU tREVOR - SORRY - HOSPITAL


Hugga mugga (posted on: 09-11-15)
The living dead that kill for bread. A sharp sermon in five short verses


Love thy neighbour, hug a thief, he's only human, nowt to do, loved his mum beyond belief, needs a daddy just like you. Wants twenty quid to buy a joint, a daily fix to help him live; bought the knife to make the point, just a mugger, not a spiv. Now don't forget the need to pay, the blade gets nearer to your throat. He might mean business, as they say, time to find the crinkled note. You try to fight, a big mistake. Another goner on the ground. You see your blood, a local lake, no longer hear the gurgle sound. He meant no harm, just needed 'bread'; another casualty of 'cuts'. One more soul to greet the dead, that Chancellors perform their struts. David November 2015

Archived comments for Hugga mugga
stormwolf on 09-11-2015
Hugga mugga
I am reminded of the saying ' the devil makes work for idle hands'
It is so true and now we have generations who have never worked 😒
Also 'care in the community' which stands for letting people with mental health problems fend for themselves to save money
A real disgrace but then the country is going to the dogs
Only a matter of time before Sharia law becomes the norm 😱
Another wry observation from a very astute mind
Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
Sharia Law - ouch - they cut the hands off thieves and behead dissidents - ah well that's me and then both of us put out of misery. I admit I once stole half a crown from my stepmother's purse to buy sweets for my school friends so I get both treatments - which first I wonder? Thank you Alison for reading - not a pleasant poem. Your David

pommer on 09-11-2015
Hugga mugga
A very astute observation.What ever is this world coming too?
The vulnerable will always be the victims.Mental health,old age,no one seems to care anymore.Care in the community? Don't make me laugh.Well written David. Peter.

Author's Reply:
Peter, I can well understand your frustration with what is happening today compared to our 'ancient' past. But I count blessings - many things are better as well as many worse. Many thanks for comment my friend....Yours, David (Booozy !!)

Gothicman on 09-11-2015
Hugga mugga
Got confronted nighttime by a would be tall youthful hooded robber with a gleaming knife and gruff voice a couple of years ago, wanted money, which, taking the wise option, mostly for his sake, I was prepared to pay, but reaching into my coat pocket, he caught sight of the watch I've owned since 21, which he pointed out he wanted too; from common money to personal affront, big mistake, for from a well executed full body weight left hook he surprised himself how good he was at doing a Fosbury Flop over the park wall! The police told me later he was only 14! Felt bad then, but helped him hopefully with deciding on a new career direction! Depressing world.
Brilliant poem, David, covers all aspects of this sad development of analgesic drug dependence and essential technical gadgets that cost money. One for your next collection.
Trevor


Author's Reply:
And a Fosbury flop for yours – brilliant. But I trust due warnings by our police mentioned the dangers of an athletic career – same highs but different drugs. Many thanks Trevor..My best…David

gwirionedd on 10-11-2015
Hugga mugga
Line them up and shoot the bastards. I'm serious. No point in their existence in the world.



Author's Reply:
British justice? Not quite, but if on trial, then the Chancellor must be among the guilty - there is no need for all his deficit nonsense - there is time to manage our accounts in such a way as to avoid hurting the poorest. But thanks for popping in - yours, David

Mikeverdi on 12-11-2015
Hugga mugga
Way off your normal, I loved it David. As with all your work it is strait to the point, written with a wry since of humor.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Mike, there is a bird called a wryneck and as mine is frozen (an awry neck), you word is very apt. Thank you for your comment - much appreciated as ever. Trust things will be tolerable for you in the next go. Good luck today (Friday).....David


The Forecasters? (posted on: 06-11-15)    
Where did autumn go? Should men write about the fall? all too often its what they do. Better stick to their 'winters of discontent.

An Indian summer, El Nino strikes again, in Spanish not in Hindu, must be said. Translate into English make it plain: a ''Heat wave in October, leaves misled''. Green, long past their brittle brown-by dating, our gutters waiting, patient for the fall. Tomorrow's wind to inundate the grating, road-sweeping brushes on belated call. Time to store the deckchairs in the shed, the coloured brolly furled, put home to dry, blow kisses to the fading sun's wet head that peeps above the treeline, with one eye. A touch of frost that is the winter's bail, ''I'm here'', he says, but blows caressing breeze; deceit in every puff at summer's tail, come to serve his time and tender freeze. And so we've missed the autumn in a blink, the grass yet still alive and grown too long, heavy dew, the blackbird's morning drink. The forecasters, as usual, get it wrong. David November 2015
Archived comments for The Forecasters?
Mikeverdi on 06-11-2015
The Forecasters?
Always topical, perfectly measured wording. You never disappoint David.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike, maybe it is time for something off the beaten track? A murder in the long grass?....
Yours aye, David

franciman on 06-11-2015
The Forecasters?
I just love this David. Wistful, sardonic and oh so lyrical. someone should nominate this.

cheers,

Jim

Author's Reply:
Well thank you Jim, for someone out there in the blue must have heard you.

stormwolf on 06-11-2015
The Forecasters?
Damn and blast! Someone got in first with the nomination. I don't know about the falling leaves or the colours of Autumn David but you, my dear friend, are on fire!
Into favs.
'Time to store the deckchairs in the shed,
the coloured brolly furled, put home to dry,
blow kisses to the fading sun’s wet head
that peeps above the treeline, with one eye.
'
As fine poetry as I could hope to read.
Nothing more to say.
Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
Oh Alison, you are too kind to me. On fire, but hopefully not a burnout - at my age one can never be sure what is just a round the corner! Living hopefully and thanking you for your help and encouragement and this time for a hot ember to fuel the fire!, love, David

pommer on 08-11-2015
The Forecasters?
As perfect as usual David,a pleasure to read and read again.Peter

Author's Reply:


How green was the hillside? (posted on: 02-11-15)
Good long term planning on the farm.

My good friend once owned a hillside farm on the rolling downs of southern England. The south-facing edge of the hill was a gorse-ridden grassy field with a chalk pit. He used it for grazing cattle. The road along the top of the down had and still has a glorious view over the surrounding countryside and the Solent. As the UK holiday trade steadily revived after WW2, coaches full of summer visitors on 'Mystery Tours' would stop at the hilltop pull-ins and allow passengers to spend half an hour or so in mixed pursuits. These ranged from idly admiring the view to activities of a more intimate physical nature. Sheltered glades among the gorse bushes were already in regular use by local courting couples, but being part of the farming community, they knew they had to be diligent in disposing of their enjoyment aids if used. Conversely, the stops by coaches and cars were long enough to enable holidaymakers to utilise the area as a 'quickie stop' for the same purpose and in summer the cattle began to suffer regularly from swallowing rubber goods of a certain shape. My friend erected barbed wire fences, but these were skilfully broken open. Can it be that the coach drivers were supplied with bolt-cutters? He applied to the planning authorities to let him remove the gorse bushes, but permission was refused on the grounds that it would 'diminish local amenities'! In desperation he put up large notices at every lay-by that read "BEWARE OF ADDERS". Farmers are never short of ideas; cattle food was deposited in all the most likely hideouts so that the ground would be covered with a plentiful supply of dung hopefully a deterrent to those seeking places to lie down. These tricks worked for a while, but one day my friend saw that some local wag had crossed out the word "ADDERS" and written "MULTIPLIERS". He admired the appropriate change of wording and took the hint. It helped him decide to give up cattle. The 'amenity', was surrendered to all-comers. It became an unofficial miniature leisure park and in the fertile fields of the valley below, he started to grow sweetcorn instead. Both the crop size and the local birth rate continued to rise steadily and after many years a plentiful supply of youthful local labour became available to pick the corn cobs in early autumn. Good long-term planning.
Archived comments for How green was the hillside?
Mikeverdi on 02-11-2015
How green was the hillside?
A departure from your usual excellent poetic verse. Now you invade prose with this interesting tale. Is there no end to the Bozz talent box? Much enjoyed this venture David, more please 😊😊😊
Mike

Author's Reply:
Hi Mike, Thank you for taking the time to comment and I write on behalf of my dead brother who was the farmer concerned. My best, David

Gothicman on 04-11-2015
How green was the hillside?
David, you know in those pioneering days, those "enjoyment aids" you write of, were made as robust as car inner-tubes by Dunlop, durable, washable, reusable, even sharable as only a Scottish invention would be! What an old meanie your farmer brother was! I'm glad love finally triumphed! Well, both triumphed really didn't they! True stories are always more fun. Well-written and enjoyed,
Best, Trevor

Author's Reply:
Well Trevor, thank you for your kind comment. Re enjoyment aids, a Scottish invention maybe, but after WW2 all the Russian enjoyment aid factories were destroyed by the Germans so they asked UK for help. Fortunately the main UK factory was in Wales and escaped bombing, but when they received the order the Russians had specified 12.5 inch length. Realising that it was an obvious error, but frightened of insulting Russian manhood and losing the order they were advised to make sure that Churchill was consulted before responding. His apocryphal reply was “Make them a sample to the size requested and mark it ‘British medium size’, then ask them if they meant 12.5 centimetres". In the same factory it was later revealed that, because of the large loss of men in battle, to increase the UK birth rate, a "Government Pricker" was secretly installed to ensure that every fifth French letter was punctured.

Gothicman on 05-11-2015
How green was the hillside?
Oh, that information explains a lot, David, it all fits in perfectly now, the extra half- inch was the front gunner turret so that the exact imperial length gave rise to the that famous Russian quote: "mine's a foot long, but I don't use it as a rule!" Hahahaha! You know the old joke about cumulative error in relaying messages over several links i.e send three and fourpence we're going to a dance (send reinforcements we're going to advance) the actual message was to those illiterate soldiers across the Channel: "ensure every French letter is punctuated!" Hahaha!

Author's Reply:

pommer on 08-11-2015
How green was the hillside?
I really enjoyed reading this David, More please. Peter

Author's Reply:


The pride of Dublin (posted on: 19-10-15)    
Her pride brought love to an English home.

The fairies at the bottom of our garden, gone aeons since my loving nanny died. The beauty of her Dublin accent, strong, the wailing of the banshee, how we cried. Flahooleys of our childhood lingered long, our bedside hopes that asked her God for pardon. Today I hear the creaking of the trees, the whispering of leaves from side to side that seem to speak of many years ago, her effervescent flow of Irish pride, the instant put-down if I had a go. ''No nonsense from the boys now if you please''. Her photo stays to watch us even still, for 'in loco parentis' was her life, our mother had deserted us quite young. while father sought and found a Scottish wife, but Nan stayed on to care for both of us, Ireland versus Scotland filled the bill. The songs of IRA she used to sing, of ''Wigs on the green and no one to wear them'' left the wicked English dead upon the grass. Of Irish heroes mourned by those bereft and how poor Samas' murder came to pass. The 'Uprising', which brought new Eire spring. Alas dementia struck our best loved Nan then cancer cruel as nature so can be. We English cared for her as best we could, but nothing stops the march of destiny. Her photo says it clearly, as it should. ''For God's sake now behave yourself, young man''. David October 2015
Archived comments for The pride of Dublin
stormwolf on 19-10-2015
The pride of Dublin
OMG That's got me crying now. I don't know what you are taking but I want some 😉
This is as moving and well written a poem as I have read anywhere.
Absolutely beautiful. The best poem I have read for a long time. Def one for the anthology and my collection. You wove the mixing of the nationalities very expertly. Your love for her shines like a beacon. She sure did a great job on you.
I am so glad you bore no lasting resentment to the Scots! haha
Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Well that was a great surprise to me – there can be no greater compliment to a poet (or to Nan) than that. Thank you, thank you Alison.
Yes we loved Nan, but my new stepmother, Jean Farqhuarson, was the most beautiful and sweet-natured person you could meet – we learned to love her too. But when Nan had her day off, I am afraid we turned on the pranks to full ‘wits end’ level. No resentment at all - still love you all to bits...Your David


Pronto on 20-10-2015
The pride of Dublin
Great David, It reminded me of one I wrote called Me Owd Aunt Bid. A woman of similar kidney methinks. Loved every word sir!

Author's Reply:
Yes Tony, there must be many in the world that soldier on in such roles - salt of the earth. Thank you for commenting. Sadly I do not have the time and energy to read long pieces but next time you post one I will have a go. Yours, David

Supratik on 21-10-2015
The pride of Dublin
This is certainly one of your best! Enjoyed reading, re-reading, and coming back and forth. Loved this one!

Author's Reply:
Thank you Supratik. But when I look at it now, it could have been better. Yours aye, David

Ionicus on 21-10-2015
The pride of Dublin
David, a superb poem.

Luigi.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Luigi and coming from your measured self, much appreciated....David


The irritable mind syndrome (posted on: 16-10-15)    
Dare we have such ultimate thoughts?

Some worry for the human race, its pettifogging gods, all with madding shibboleths, all pray against the odds, the faithful, blind, of unsound mind, their world, a cageless zoo. A kills B so C kills A, a life for life exchanged. What gain is that to either god save fewer minds deranged? Sad to say from day to day it does not stop at two. Free martyrdom, the mart of death, by those who know not more. Education, educated ‒ still not know the score. Afraid to challenge preacher's word, or even throw a shoe? Content to murder innocents, how can they sleep at night, beheading for a moment's high, intoxicant is blood. What faith needs that for comforting, what mind can find it true? Yet war is war and millions die, why worry over one? They think their conflict justified their battle just begun. We see it as a stunt to shock, a cruelty taboo. Strange that when a suicide bomb explodes, a hundred die, we see it as an outrage but in anger, not to cry. Affront to our humanity in either point of view. David October 2015
Archived comments for The irritable mind syndrome
Supratik on 16-10-2015
The irritable mind syndrome
When wordsmiths like you unite to write on this topic, the world can change. This is what I believe in. However, David, take the 'they' out. There is no they in this scheme of things, of course, this is my opinion which you can rubbish.

There are two things in this so-called they that we are unable to challenge, their dedication and insanity. When the world would unite to demolish the school with dedication of insane love, the school will perish, and the students, released. Yours, Supratik

Author's Reply:
Thank you Supratik, I have at least put the 'them, argument side in verse 5. Not a big step but at least an attempt to show that, however misguided, it exists as a rationale.
Yours aye, David

stormwolf on 16-10-2015
The irritable mind syndrome
You have excelled yourself again David. The forceful thrust and pace of the poem in keeping with the anger of the subject matter.

The rhythm and rhyme perfectly executed. One of your very best IMHO.

One for the anthology.

Alison x

damn! I see from Mike's comment below that I was so engrossed in prommoting the poem I forgot to come back and nominate it! Ah well, never mind at least the deed is done. 😉 x

Author's Reply:
Alison, what kinder comment can there be - thank you so much. And yes, Mike had just awarded the Nom, but I must also thank you for promoting me and you too for the Nom - though I have never really understood the fine line difference. Your David

Mikeverdi on 16-10-2015
The irritable mind syndrome
Well written David, as always you bring the truth to all you write, should have been a journalist. I agree with Alison, one of your very best, please let me return the honour you gave me.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Mike, my thanks for taking the time to comment - and then, surprise, the Nom ! Of course I knew that your own entry would make it when I read it the night before - terrific. Yes maybe you are right, but journalism would have suited you as well as me. Yours aye, David

pommer on 17-10-2015
The irritable mind syndrome
Yea David, another one of your excellent descriptions.I Like the "Yet war is war and millions die,why worry over one?So very true.No one ever thinks.I despair so very often these days when opening the papers every morning.I so often wonder, is it me? Well composed as usual David.Congrats.

Author's Reply:
Peter, It is good when an Englishman of Italian and German extraction many years ago, and a man from Pomerania can think alike today. Thank you, David

Gothicman on 18-10-2015
The irritable mind syndrome
Brilliant, polished verse as per usual, David. The sheer truth of the content messaging shines through as such profound common sense, one wonders how young educated people can get so mentally twisted, it must be more than initial sick indoctrination, but also further extreme change towards primitive fundamentalism, the the result of a continual onslaught of insult and suffering to Middle East Arab Nations. Ruhollah Khomeini's return to Iran from Paris seems to have started the primitive religious fervour, with the destruction of Afghanistan and Iraq doing the rest. Now it's a mini Armageddon with the risk of Russian or Israeli expansion in its wake. Imagine a world without religion, just a love and respect for Nature. Straight-talking common sense, one of your best, which is to say, normal!
Trevor

Author's Reply:
Trevor - much enjoyed your mini analysis of mid-East issues - spot on as usual ! Oh when will Christianity and Islam wake up to the conclusions of the Great Templeton Experiment on prayer?
Many thanks for your powerful comment - it gives me strength to carry on a bit longer. Friend David.

Pronto on 19-10-2015
The irritable mind syndrome
A sad commentary for our times David. A well executed work of great skill. Deserved pen for sure.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Tony, a much appreciated comment, but as you say, the piece is a sad commentary.
Yours aye, David
Belated reply - apologies Tony - I forgot to thank you for considering the poem/author as a Hot one.
Yours aye, David

Supratik on 19-10-2015
The irritable mind syndrome
Hell yes, I got your point. Yours, Supratik

Author's Reply:


The Devil deals the rain (posted on: 12-10-15)
The Devil is living incognito in Heaven - in charge of the Meteorological Department.

What Devil lurks within our metal gauge that suddenly may leap to bring the rain? What mischief hides within the westerlies to flood the floors at Downlea once again? October brings the symptoms of his call, the lea side of a hill, forever prone. What folly brought us here to take the fall from Hell's own fickle-minded winter zone? The gentle downs of Dorset sit nearby, where Hardy filled the valleys with his love, but words escape the rules of law and nature, precipitate while clouds play push and shove. Welcome both, we have no real choice. The world was firstly built for plants and trees that greedy man destroys at whim and will, tho' chance will always kill them, by degrees. Yet what takes them, kills us in sudden ways. A flood, you drown, you're dead upon the spot; they linger longer, say good bye in days, survive by means that humankind cannot. Both words and rain may take the world by storm, we pray the Devil looks askance at us. Go stay your drop, go play your game elsewhere, my writings are not worth the flooded fuss. David October 2015
Archived comments for The Devil deals the rain
stormwolf on 12-10-2015
The Devil deals the rain
Oh, I do hope you do not get flooded again this year.
Yes, tell the rain to go to California instead, they are having a drought.
I marvel at your mind, David. As sharp as a tack.
Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison, Our water is among the hardest brews in England - I don't the Californians could take it. It comes direct from heaven's 'rest rooms' where only the best gods get relief. Many thanks for kind comment...XXX...David

Gothicman on 13-10-2015
The Devil deals the rain
Hi David! I cut my hair extra short yesterday and when I arrived home and went into the kitchen I said "I see dead people" hoping the family would admire my new likeness to Bruce Willis. But, they said "Jerry Williams!" Jerry bloody Williams, an ageing Swedish Rock 'n Roll singer with a big nose, like a Tolkien "Orc!" Who's had more final tours than Barbara Streisand! Anyway, I looked out the window and it was raining heavily and I thought: I do hope David's not floating down the River Piddle in his antique wicker bath chair! But then, you're not located in a low-lying area, are you? It's the milder Winters presumably, frozen clouds don't pass on further like they used to do? Marvellous poetry, humorous with a undertone of doom! Yes, the devil's got the upper hand at the moment, but, they've increased the ebb drainage since the last disastrous rains ne c'est pas?
Frost affected Trevor

Author's Reply:
Thank you Trevor for awarding me the wicker chair – ensuring at least a clean arse when I meet my maker.
As to your looking like Jerry Williams, at least he will be flattered to know he looks like you !!
On the real flood front, the dredgers have scratched a token mud pile from the Somerset levels area but no relief in our Dorset valley. The word Somerset is a shortening of the original words describing the area: “summer settlement” – i.e., an area not suitable for winter inhabitants. It was not until the jerry builders started invading it that the farmers decide to try using it too. Thank you for kind words too. My best..David.

Mikeverdi on 14-10-2015
The Devil deals the rain
Great writing about an emotive subject in your neck of the woods. I hope the water leaves you in peace this winter old friend.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Secular prayers to the Devil are in order. Thanks for taking the time, good friend....David

pommer on 14-10-2015
The Devil deals the rain
Yes, well worth writing about and well written as usual.We too are in a similar situation. We hope that there won't be any flooding this winter.At least all the development applications ,which would make things wore, have been rejected so far.Our flood wardens are not busy at present touch wood.I hope you are getting a bit better David, Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
What river is involved in your flooding, Peter? Getting slowly better and thank you for kind words.Trust you are OK too - after celebrations!.Yours, David


The Prosperous Image (posted on: 09-10-15)
Britain now to have a prosperous image Its High Speed Rail. Watching high speed trains pushed along by hand while fields disappear? Not poetry but rhyming murder and not lyrical at that.

Deficits sit not just with spend and earn, but in intelligence of those who rule that think the poor have still some cash to burn, to fill the vaults of banks who played the fool. The Chancellor calls for cuts to scramble free, 'All in it together' is his lie; it's 'them' he speaks of, never you and me, while tax cuts help the starving rich get by. Allowances for ill-fed kids are scrapped, reduced to pay the bill for High Speed Rail, the comfort of the business man intact. The countryside protests to no avail. Adonis now to move the project through. Trust Labour's man to keep the trains on time; when breakdowns come he'll push and shout ''Choo choo''; keep image of prosperity on line. More madness still control of business rate, local councils now put on the job, with Britain's open space to desecrate in search of profit from the fracking mob? Oh Chancellor, thy brain remains bereft, A 'Living Wage' by 2020 soon! Alas, too late, no vacancies then left, our industry put safely in cocoon. David October 2015
Archived comments for The Prosperous Image
sweetwater on 09-10-2015
The Prosperous Image
I wrote one with virtually the same content several years ago, all that has changed is that the poor have become even poorer, and more beautiful countryside has been decimated, what a terrible situation and with no relief in sight! A brilliantly expressed poem. Sue.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Sue, and for forecasting with such accuracy. Sadly now the government, with the unbalanced minds of the Eton crew, intends to go ahead with the trains vanity and the cuts in benefit. Certification of that mob asap is the only hope for the rest of us sane British folk. Yours aye....David

Ionicus on 09-10-2015
The Prosperous Image
Dear David, a Labour man to keep the trains on time? I thought that was Mussolini and look what happened to him. I wouldn't wish poor Adonis the same fate.
It is all very well blasting the present administration for what is wrong in our society. Politicians of any hue have regard only for themselves. Once elected all their promises go out of the window.
Living wage? How much should it be? Lots say the employees, less say the employers, we can't afford it. How can such a thorny issue be resolved?
Yours, in old age, Luigi.

Author's Reply:
Words of wisdom in what you say, Luigi. But it is fun blasting administrations, especially if their minds are obviously unsound, unfit for purpose is perhaps the right statement. Virtually none of the present crew have held a job outside politics - shameful, harmful. Next madness we know will be that the UK opts to leave the EU. May the good chap in the sky plus Cameron protect us from that folly. Yours aye, David

stormwolf on 09-10-2015
The Prosperous Image
Another rye and witty observation about the lunatics who are running the asylum.
I heard a radio prog the other night that said that wages have not risen and are on a par with 1987 in real terms. Certainly money goes no distance at all and now it costs the equivalent of what was a fortnight's wages when I started nursing for a coffee.
We certainly are not 'all in it together' and I can honestly say, I have never felt the urge to put my naughty bits in a pig haha

Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison,
Afraid all that a pig could give you would be a ‘lick and a promise’ – just like the rest of the political animals that suck a living from the rest of us!
Afraid that inflation is an integral part of the capitalist system and it will be more than a few universe minutes before that disappears – but disappear it will – and hopefully in a way that does not take mankind with it. Many thanks for your comment too……
Your David.

Pronto on 11-10-2015
The Prosperous Image
Hmmnnn... Politics? I think we have the least worst of 'em at the moment (Which ain't saying much) You want to see bad government? Let in the loony left led by the chief lunatic Corbyn. The greats like Bessie Braddock and Manny Shinwell must be turning in their graves. Glad I'm old really. Good poem though I enjoyed it. 🙂


Author's Reply:
Hi Pronto, Preferring pigs for ceremonial induction to the asylum in preference to existing inmates is a dangerous assumption! My thanks for your kind comment. Yours aye, David

shadow on 11-10-2015
The Prosperous Image
All very true, and well expressed. Trouble is, that lot don't care. Bring on the Revolution!

Author's Reply:
Thank you Shadow, good to hear from you - your kind words....David

Supratik on 11-10-2015
The Prosperous Image
Enjoyed the craft with words. Brilliant! Saddened by the state of affairs in Britain. In college, I had a subject called EPI (Economic Problem Of India), where the only sentence that came as refrain was that 'the rich are becoming richer, and the poor poorer'... Well tge refrain is still there! Best. Supratik

Author's Reply:
Thank you for kind words - and let us hope that the system that causes your refrain will shortly nosedive to become history for the whole world. Yours aye, David

gwirionedd on 11-10-2015
The Prosperous Image
To play devil's advocate, Britain DOES need high-speed rail. Of course that should NOT be at the expense of the poor or (in an ideal world) the environment, but the rest of Europe (even Russia) is light-years ahead of us in this field and Britain, as the country that invented the train in the first place, really ought to be doing better. We need to connect the north of England and Scotland to the rest of Europe, or else we will remain a backward little island that the rest of the continent laughs at.




Author's Reply:
Thank you friend for putting a slice of devil's advocacy. Personally I feel that large countries like Russia, France, Germany do need high speed rail. But at this time when in our tiny country we are struggling to balance the books, to spend such a large sum on saving a few minutes on the trips to Birmingham and Manchester is surely vain folly. Who will afford the higher passenger fares? The poor? As has often been pointed out, there many more useful infrastructure projects that need attention. Ah well - the debate continues!


Putin in the Kitchen? (posted on: 09-10-15)
Dishwasher wars. How to live with the "Bung in everything and hope for the best" brigade.

Have you heard of the 'Territorial Imperative?. A robin's behaviour gives a classical example. Based on what it considers its food requirements it maps out a collection of bushes and will fight off every intruder regardless. Is man different? Of course not. Forget the obvious matter of house ownership; focus on the motor car. Once you are inside, it becomes a territory that must be defended hopefully not at all cost, but when driving you are in command and in many senses it becomes part of your living space and ego. Yes? Now to the humble dishwasher, for in the same way it can become a territory of interest to several parties in the household how best to load the damn thing? I am the miser, the ancient dinosaur who insists that every item has a correct place. All must be located so that loaded china allows maximum content once the thing is switched on save water and minimise energy use! Ah well, perhaps my frugal concept of loading is out of date? Now comes my dear wife leader of the modern ''bung in everything and hope for the best'' brigade. One saucepan takes up half the space, pans sit with porridge-laden edges and teaspoons disappear after washing. 'Never mind the water and the energy, just free me up a few more minutes to do something more important'. Logic on both sides - who is right? What's best to do? As might be expected, an unforeseen factor has emerged. I dropped and smashed a couple of important pieces of china. Now I am labelled unfit to handle such delicate objects as mugs and side plates. A truce of sorts has come, but like the Russians in Ukraine, I do admit to secret visits to 'adjust' some of what I consider the worst placements, but that does not solve the main problem of principle. I fear I have lost this battle, so silent subterfuge is in order. To conclude, here is a short poem written many years ago when dishwashers were mere crazy new gadgets plus ca change un peu?
Ancient Dishwasher blues Dinner plates and side plates, load them first, then the mugs and glasses, they're the worst. They topple, chip and often come out cracked, the bowls are better mostly stay intact, while saucers clearly fit to any slot. The egg cups flop around, and like as not, will end up far away; but even worse, bigger dishes are the real curse, they mask the rest from jets and hog the flow, yet still remain unwashed, or partly so. The knives and forks, bewrinkled with their dunes are basket cases all beside the spoons and finally -- the greasy pots and pans. No room We have to use our hands! The skeleton of wires is all a bluff. Of slots and prongs, there's never quite enough ! David

Archived comments for Putin in the Kitchen?
stormwolf on 09-10-2015
Putin in the Kitchen?
hahaha excellent! Very well done. I must confess to being somewhere in the middle. My ex did do my head in with the same sort of loading skills as your dear wife.
However, I confess that I tend to just bung things in and hope for the best, apart from the wine glasses which must be secure, as such essentials are too precious to come to grief.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Dear Alison, I have to admit this piece was written originally as my column for this month’s yet to be published Tarrant Times – our local paper. Your blessing gives me confidence – thank you. This is run by the churches in the valley, so I am limited in choice of subject, but they know I am not a believer.
If the bung it in and hope gives you a few minutes to write your poems and comments for us in UKA, then it must surely be well worth the candle! XXX…David


Mumbo jumbo in church? Memo to the Pope. (posted on: 05-10-15)
Originally incense was introduced to help the congregation believe their prayers in church were carried on it skywards to reach God. Think again.


Mumbo jumbo showmanship, the congregation taste and smell. What useful purpose for the stuff except perhaps a whiff of Hell? So what does incense do for God? For worshippers - for all with noses? prayerful odours reach to sky, of carbon gas in minute doses. But every little makes a lot, a billion whiffs on Sunday morn puts God in quite an awkward spot: more climate change by man is born. Of car exhausts you bring that day, the merest molecule compared, but God is green and in his church he seeks pure air yet priests have dared to put pollution in its way to match their tales from pulpit perch. The asthma epidemics spread, more people suffering this curse. Will incense trigger what they dread, anaphylactic shock or worse, not come to church, just stay in bed? Abandon now the nonsense show; stay clean and think of those who pray. Let meaningless tradition go, for 'showbiz', find a better way. David October 2015

Archived comments for Mumbo jumbo in church? Memo to the Pope.
Supratik on 05-10-2015
Mumbo jumbo in church? Memo to the Pope.
Marvellous mumbo jumbo!!! Had a BIG laugh! Best. Supratik

Author's Reply:
Thank you Supratik, and yes that is exactly what it is today - silly nonsense with no real purpose. Mumbo jumbo used to be a derogatory description of the African witch doctor's performances a hundred years ago.

pommer on 05-10-2015
Mumbo jumbo in church? Memo to the Pope.
Well David,
nice to see you in good form again.I can see you are feeling a bit better. Good luck my friend. I had good news on Friday, have finally been discharged from the Haematology dept.I am free of my Lymphoma after seven years of anxiety etc.Be lucky, best wishes to both of you, Peter.


Author's Reply:
Delighted to hear of your victory over lymphoma and OMG, seven years is too long to keep any man in suspense. But well done Peter. Me - just gradually falling physically to pieces - before my very eyes ! Yours, David

stormwolf on 06-10-2015
Mumbo jumbo in church? Memo to the Pope.
Bravo yet again David. You are the best at your acerbic observations.
I think many who have never suffered with allergies or chest conditions rarely consider the effects of things like this.
I am very aware having had a past partner who was very allergic to cats and for whom being in a room with one, was in fact dangerous.
Me? well I am super allergic to the Pope! Seems he's fooling a lot of people with his liberal views but he's actually more like an emissary from old Nick himself and a commie NWO king-pin to boot!

He's likely to give me a dose of anaphylactic shock if I have to ever see him in the flesh!
I think a rope of garlic would do the trick however.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thank you Alison. Talking of allergies, my son, a composer, is allergic to the odour of silver birch trees in spring apparently a well-known cause. There are many that adorn the streets of suburban North London. He is an atheist, but was still asked to write a new mass for the Vatican choir. No barriers allowed in music. Afterwards he survived a handshake from your friend, but was not searched first for hidden garlic. Simon said the white robe stank of incense!.Your other friend, David


The Islamic apple cart. (posted on: 28-09-15)
Death in too many lands and sadness in too many hearts have plagued religion and still do. A plea to think again.

Mid-eastern nations fall apart, one faith is two, ideas collide. The sadness of the apple cart that cannot bridge their word divide. Interpreting what seers have said, a history lasting many a year, has left too many people dead, for Christians too, conflicts appear. What pain within their hearts is this, a feud of minds without compare that neither needs parenthesis, nor tongue to make them both aware? The urge to harm the human race, based less on reason, more on hate; stirred in mob and holy place that man will not reintegrate. Words of clerics, words of state, though never wholly set apart, should be considered separate for democratic rule to start. Hope reaching now to lands in thrall, the wisdom of the common man that trumps competing Imam's call, a single voice that says ''We can''. David September 2015

Archived comments for The Islamic apple cart.
Andrea on 28-09-2015
The Islamic apple cart.
Very impressed with combobulate!

Author's Reply:
Thanks Andrea, but I am not sure it fits well with the subject matter. See Gwerionedd below.
Yours aye, David.

pommer on 29-09-2015
The Islamic apple cart.
A really well thought out piece of work.I only hope that something will bring about some sort of order out of this state of disarray and confusion.Well done David,hope you re better,Best wishes to you and Meg,Peter.

Author's Reply:
I guess we will have to wait a generation and a deal of bloodshed first. Any way, many thanks for your kind remarks.... I am beset with side effects of pain killer Gabapentin at the moment but will pull through. Trust you are in good shape yourself....David

gwirionedd on 30-09-2015
The Islamic apple cart.
Great to see you writing again, David! I like your rhymes and rhythms a lot.

Isn't "combobulate" a bit of a joke word, for such a serious poem? I've never heard it used before, except in the episode of 'Black Adder' where Doctor Johnson, writer of the first English dictionary, arrives, and Blackadder tries to piss him off by using lots of stupidly big words.

"I'm sorry, sir. I am anaspeptic, phrasmotic, even compunctuous to have caused you such pericombobulations."

"Anything I can do to facilitate your velocitous extramuralisation".






Author's Reply:
You are right, but the only real alternative is equally ill-matching with the subject. Nevertheless I have changed the poem to use it. Many thanks for that and your kind comments...David

Supratik on 05-10-2015
The Islamic apple cart.
Enjoyed most everything about the poem. The tone has a single-minded focus and goes straight into mind without an iota of ambiguity. I must also quickly add that I enjoyed the comments too, there's much to learn. As for the 'combobulate' bit, I think it is apt because, much like the form, the poem wants the confusion to be over.


As for the quest or the query David, discussion seems to be the only way. If we are focused on putting this mindless killing of human race, we cannot afford to put any condition.


Reactive approach would be to track the flow of money, weapons, training and other dependencies. The school that the students nurtures will perish.


Keep such thoughts coming; please.


Best.


Supratik

Author's Reply:


The Fitness Scam (posted on: 25-09-15)
The fitness table of diminishing returns. An extra year, an extra hour. The more you try, the quicker you die.


You want to last an extra year then don your bar side drinking kit. Imbibe your whisky mixed with beer, ten a night will keep you fit. A month above your normal span then put on weight, become obese; watch telly all day if you can, a sofa death is sure to please. You want to live an extra week, then jog each day an extra mile. Your fitness at an all time peak, you'll trip to death in perfect style. If an extra day you'd like to write your poem ere you die, Lands end to John O Groats by bike, 'Och aye man', your final sigh. Another hour of life you crave, go marathon each time you wake. Fit enough to dig your grave, St Peter says ''a big mistake''. David September 2015

Archived comments for The Fitness Scam
deadpoet on 25-09-2015
The Fitness Scam
Oh this is funny Mr Bozzz - makes me feel a bit more comfortable about being a smoker-
dp xx

Author's Reply:
Thanks Pia. Funny I hope, but maybe some half truths buried within? ...I stopped by using cold turkey method when I was 50 and do not regret that - I was on 15 big cigars a day that I thought were necessary to maintain my image as chief exec of an American company. Folly, that is me personified. My UK colleagues described entering my office as like going into a Spanish brothel. Yours, David

pommer on 27-09-2015
The Fitness Scam
I really enjoyed reading this David.I am sure there are some half truth buried within your words.My office usually resembled London in the smog after my weekly meetings with my Senior Nursing Officers,most of whom,including myself
were addicted to the evil weed. I gave it up many years ago now.We must have been a good advertisement for healthy living. Ha,Ha.Hope you are feeling better David, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Meg said it was about time I wrote in humour instead of miserable political diatribes. Thanks Peter for your saintly messages"!! Yours, David

Mikeverdi on 27-09-2015
The Fitness Scam
Well....as I'm about to start on the "get fit" trail again... thanks for that David 😂😁😀
Mike

Author's Reply:
Dear Friend Mike, all you have to do is let me know how many extra years you would like to add by being fitter than you are now and I will check on the Boswell Almanack table to find out what extra fitness steps you must take. Yours aye... David

stormwolf on 03-10-2015
The Fitness Scam
hahaha gave me a right laugh it did. Just what the doctor ordered!

If an extra day you’d like
to write your poem ere you die,
Lands end to John O Groats by bike,
‘Och aye man’, your final sigh.

Yah!

Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison, so delighted to give you a moment's laughter. Of course the John O'Groats line was written with you in mind, but even with my credit in school certificate geography I knew Edinburgh was many miles short of that. May the Wall stay with you, David.


The Establishment, Devil in disguise (posted on: 18-09-15)
Dance of the besotted blind. Plan A teeters on the brink

The clog-bound feet of money slaves are heard, the system plots the way they have to tread. No other dance permissible ''Preferred''. Catastrophe now fate of living dead. As 'Etonomics' sheds its morphine pall, repeat of yesterday, mere witless hope; deeper in the mire becomes the call, 'more cuts, more cuts', their only way to cope. What ails the team, what sickness guides their toil? What cast of eye or mind has led to this? Can it be the magic power of oil, that energy bestows the deathly kiss? Yet what of gold, the shrine for all the fools, Is this the fatal lure to promised land; That ''Capital''s the manna of mankind, a food from God that manic maths has planned? What school has fed their brains to function thus? Has tradition blocked creative thought, or Eton used a faulty abacus, a mess from education dearly bought? Matters not, for science must save us now, yet who cuts life from 'standard' and the 'crude', who will kill the rich man's sacred cow that greed can milk while poor men fight for food? The sadness of the tunnel mind bespoke. 'Establishment are always in the right'. So thought the angels, 'til God's patience broke, the Devil then was cast to black of night. David September 2015
Archived comments for The Establishment, Devil in disguise
Kipper on 18-09-2015
The Establishment, Devil in disguise
It's all there David, every dot and comma.
How is it I wonder that 'we'(or at least you) can see what 'they' can't.

Keep it up;
Michael

Author's Reply:
Thanks Michael for your visit and comment, Yes the alternatives to 'cuts cuts' have been set out by top economists and draw upon world experiences in the past. Invest to generate wealth rather than cuts to diminish investment is the correct path. Sadly the wrong mind sets of the wealthy can bring poverty to the rest of us. Yours, David

shadow on 20-09-2015
The Establishment, Devil in disguise
Very well put - but maybe (just maybe) the pendulum has started to swing the other way . . . ?

Author's Reply:

I firmly hope and believe you mean that the present establishment view here is on the way out and that Europe as a whole may change before it is too late. Thanks for the comment. Yours aye, David

deadpoet on 27-09-2015
The Establishment, Devil in disguise
I think- first line second stanza eConomics?


I think they do it because they can- I almost see "us" as the guilty for letting ourselves be "led"- yet I also think that they use mindgames, dull us into submission, drug us, make us miserable -KILL US, so we can't fight back. But this is NO longer an excuse, it just can't be? We shouldn't be asking questions any longer in my opinion- I don't- I have stopped asking why! I don't want answers -I know the answer- it is indeed time for more to act. It's dawning now I believe.





I am not sure, but perhaps "Das Kapital" instead of just Capital-?? Or is that too committing? It is still the fundamental teaching imo even though our contemporaries are elaborating (the French man Piket (spello)??)- I understand so little of the maths- economics..





I love reading this kind of stuff.





best Pia xx

Youth asked to Speak Out, in Camden New Journal



Author's Reply:
Yes Pia, dawning is right, but it will be dirty and very painful - establishments will fight tooth and nail and with weapons. Armies will be called in to quell terrorists (as strikers will then be called). Hope I am wrong....Yours, David

stormwolf on 03-10-2015
The Establishment, Devil in disguise
Bravo! Bravo! I love the fire and passion on every line. I never reaised just how enslaved we were till a few years ago. I now consider this to be some sort of hell until the tipping point arrives of man's awakening but may not come in my life time.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Apols for delay - laptop problems. Again so glad to read you and to thank you for taking time to dig back a couple of publication periods. I agree mankind may have to wait a decade or so before the inevitable happens - meanwhile we must keep shouting. Thank you for kind words.
Yours David.


The Hoops of Hell (posted on: 14-09-15)
This painful poem reflects the few occasions on which I was tempted to say 'I have had enough of the world. Well, what can you expect at my age after a botched op that nearly killed my heart, accidentally chopped a bit off my liver and a post-op plague of things that attack your weaknesses when you are low !!

The hoops of Hell are set alight to challenge man's desire. Live or die, each bitter bite says ''jump through me, and fall to fire''. Devil hate, complacent stands to catch man's lack of love for man. Love thy neighbour, fate commands, but kill and maim him now the plan. Prejudice, the dumbing glue, do nothing and then wish them dead, the fools that are not of your view. Waste no time on what is said. Jealousy, the font of greed, coveting the water's edge as lo, the ocean waits your need, is yours to plunder, pump and dredge. Take my offered hand says Hell for in cremation still I dwell. My golden flames will lick your woes, your aching head to twitching toes, your ashes are my gift to God, humanity, now scattered sod. Thanks, but not today I'd say, I cannot take your peppered way. David, September 2015

Archived comments for The Hoops of Hell
Kipper on 14-09-2015
The Hoops of Hell
This needs a second read I think to get the full implication, but one is enough to know you are back, as sharp as ever.
I hope your setback is temporary David
Michael

Author's Reply:
Thank you Michael - and my wife agrees with you on the need for a second - and maybe third reading. I must give more clues. Thank you too for your get well words. I am trying.
Yours, David

Weefatfella on 14-09-2015
The Hoops of Hell
 photo c673dadc-2d28-4407-9a21-a191bcf6d656_zpsp2y54f3y.jpg

Aye! You're right with this David. This>
>(Jealousy, the font of greed,
coveting the water’s edge
as lo, the ocean waits your need,
is yours to plunder, pump and dredge.)<<
Sums it all up for me.
The greedy buggers wont stop until they have it all.
Cheers David, get well soon
Weefatfella

Author's Reply:
Thanks Paul, you have it right. The hoops are all reasons why I should not stay on - just fade away. These temptations must be resisted if one has still words to say on the matter - pure vanity !!
Yours, David

pommer on 14-09-2015
The Hoops of Hell
Hi David,
It is great to see you back once again in your usual good form.Yes, greed is a terrible affliction and unfortunately the cause of many a conflict causing only harm to man.
I hope you have survived your op. reasonably well. It is never very easy at our age.I hope that we shall read many more of your contributions. Be lucky, Your friend Peter.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Peter for your encouragement. I am still struggling to maintain strength in my legs but hopefully will keep mobile. Keyboard finger seems to be working OK !
Yours, David

Mikeverdi on 14-09-2015
The Hoops of Hell
Ah David, and there it is, spilled like bad blood across the page. So pleased to see you raging against the shit we have to go through, means your getting better.
Your friend
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks for sparing time, Mike. Rivers of blood - oh dear. Do tell me about Bristol, but do not bother to write it all down - speak on the phone. Alison told me she wanted to come to support you, but she was not able to make it and I am not surprised considering what she is going through My best, David.

Gothicman on 14-09-2015
The Hoops of Hell
Old Nick seems to thrive on chance moments like this, David. What a risky decision! I do hope some good will ensue after this botched up op, with the longer term result of losing that rogue gall bladder worth the hell you've been going through. It must feel at moments like this that your superhuman resilience and fortitude are your worst enemies, but it's good you're still with us with your usual wit and sharp perceptions still in excellent order! I do hope it all stabilises and you get some respite from all the discomfort and pain. You deserve better.
Trevor
(Sorry about the infringement of my old monorhyming poem on your earlier poem, not cricket and bad manners, humble apologies!)

Author's Reply:
So glad you are still there Trevor, value your comments - great fun. Yes the op decision was a tough one and I was surprised at the severity of the post-op drag down effect that brought back so many past weakness problems. Meg says I must get out of Hell and try to write something nice - the autumn primroses in our garden perhaps! Absolutely no need to apologise about the monorhymer - I was relieved not to be alone in my folly! Very best wishes my friend, yours, David

Ionicus on 15-09-2015
The Hoops of Hell
Back with your acerbic wit I see, David. You have withstood many setbacks but I am glad to observe that you are still defiant to the end:
"Thanks, but not today I’d say,
I cannot take your peppered way."
My very best wishes, Luigi

Author's Reply:
Luigi, it is good to know that you are still there to comment on our more feeble offerings than your own - genuine thanks. Your own good humour is a cherished read for me. Yours aye, David

sweetwater on 17-09-2015
The Hoops of Hell
I found this intriguing and have read it many times this week, I like the way it reads and flows so well. I agree with your sentiments but could never express them so cleverly. 🙂 Sue.

Author's Reply:
Dear Sue, I am not sure that my piece deserves any honour for having been read several times. I feel guilt that the meanings are not as explicit as they should be, but pleasure at your kind comment on its content. My thanks, yours, David

sweetwater on 18-09-2015
The Hoops of Hell
Hi David, It defininatly deserves every honour, I didn't read it several times because it was too obscure to understand I read it because I really enjoyed it, loved the last line of the first verse especially. I'm one of those people who can read a favourite book, or watch a favourite film over and over again and enjoy it more each time. 🙂 Sue x

Author's Reply:
Thank you Sue - the trouble you took to give your reassurance much appreciated. XXX David

deadpoet on 19-09-2015
The Hoops of Hell
I am sorry you have been through all that bad health - poor you. But I have to say that perhaps being bed ridden your brain has been working extremely imaginatively- This made me think of Poe and an older English master poet style- I am very impressed.
Get well very soon.
Pia 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thank you Pia for your kind get well message and with comparison to the greats I will be flattered into into instant recovery ! You have made my Sunday. Secular blessings...David


The happy sailor (posted on: 21-08-15)
Other people's problems are always greater than one's own - the carer's maxim?


His bell may toll both loud and true, but side effects, like drugs we take, may not sound the same to you; the overtones ring in the wake. There's happiness, joy to survive, to see the sun, to walk the grass, yet pay the price of being alive, bear the pain that comes to pass. A brave face set to show the world, jolly hockey sticks ahoy; Union jack aloft, unfurled, there goes the sailor, happy boy! Yet look below, what do you see? Not the sails, the hull afloat, but undertow of misery, the keel and bilges, creaking boat. Harbour bound or heading out, in fun or fear below deck leads; above board does not have a shout when rudder seeks the touch of weeds. David August 2015

Archived comments for The happy sailor
Mikeverdi on 21-08-2015
The happy sailor
That's the problem isn't it David, keeping afloat. I seem to spend my life looking for periscopes. We all fight battles no one else can see. Wonderfully put.
Chin up old friend.
Mike

Author's Reply:

Mikeverdi on 21-08-2015
The happy sailor
Dear Friends, sadly David is in Hospital again, he won't be able to view this post for several days. Please don't let this stop you leaving comments. I will see he knows about them, they will mean a lot to him.
Mikeverdi

Author's Reply:

Weefatfella on 21-08-2015
The happy sailor

 photo c673dadc-2d28-4407-9a21-a191bcf6d656_zpsp2y54f3y.jpg

Aye! We all hide behind happy smiles, but thankfully David, sometimes the smile is true. Keep your chin up mate.

Weefatfella.

Author's Reply:

Kipper on 21-08-2015
The happy sailor
Hello David,
So often in your poems you make a point in that clear way of yours, but which somehow seems to have eluded many of us.
WFF speaks of hiding behind smiles. We are the ones who are on the other side of your smiles and long may it be so.
The Happy Sailor still has much to tell us!
Michael

Author's Reply:

sweetwater on 22-08-2015
The happy sailor
Such an eloquent poem, all we can really do I guess is enjoy the here and now when the waters are smooth, and put on a brave face to help ourselves and hide it from others when things get choppy. But also find a spark of joy once again when we near a safe harbour. Sue xx

Author's Reply:


What to do on holiday abroad (posted on: 17-08-15)
Latest News from Brussels, Summer 1930. "Europe now in fear of UK holiday children. Revised definition of terrorism under consideration".

With respective ages of five and seven Martin and I were taken by boat to Ostende in Belgium to spend a week at Knocke le Zoute, a fashionable seaside holiday resort at that time. Our prim hotel was right on the esplanade and Martin and I shared a room that faced the beach huts and the sea beyond. It had the usual balcony overhanging the street and one could look straight down on the busy pavement and promenade below. The day we arrived, we had been tucked up in bed at the early hour of six - 'You boys must be very tired after your long journey', obviously a euphemism for 'We are exhausted and need fresh air before we go to dinner, lets get them out of the way as soon as possible'. We were not tired at all - very pumped up in fact. Having hopped out of bed in time to see our parents leave the hotel for their walk along the seafront, we managed to wheedle open the window on to the balcony and then decided that mischief was in order as a protest at having been sent upstairs so early. Looking down on the people below was just too much of a temptation. We took turns at emptying our respective bladders as accurately as possible on the promenading public below. When this supply ran out we filled the china jerry with water and provided an even greater shower. The audience grew steadily larger. By the time our parents returned from their pre-prandial stroll they were greeted with the sight of several hundred people standing in front of the hotel with heads raised to watch the performance - most of them laughing their heads off, others obviously very shocked at the disgusting exhibition being enacted before them. For all they knew, each successive jerry load of liquid was the real thing. We were not party to the ensuing conversation between our parents and the hotel manager, but it must have been a real corker. I would love to have been a fly on the wall because I am sure the incident must have given my father a sharp flashback. He had himself poured water from a washbasin on hapless Christmas carollers outside Great Grandma's house in Liverpool a few years back obviously there is an inherited gene subterritorial ablutomania (A child patient thinks that everything below its feet is dirty and must be cleaned). Of course first thing next morning there was the expected bowed head apology parade before the hotel manager and staff and clearly some were finding it difficult to avoid laughing. Nearly 90 years later I offer an apology to humanity as a whole and beg forgiveness ''To the citizens of UKAuthors and to whom it may concern : I am now approaching my second childhood, but have no concerns. You may walk safely past our home without fear of instant drenching because of intelligent forethought by my good wife. To protect you we have purchased a house with no doors or windows facing the road''.
Archived comments for What to do on holiday abroad
Mikeverdi on 17-08-2015
What to do on holiday abroad
Priceless David, one from your auto? Thanks for posting old friend.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks good friend - yes from the bowels of my auto. Peter says he has done the same - made me feel better. See you soon, David

pommer on 17-08-2015
What to do on holiday abroad
Yes,this is great David.Made me laugh,which is much appreciated.I can't resist however to state the following:
I must admit I cannot miss,
To compare your actions with Manneken Pis,
Whose origin has many times been told,
But yours is the best,it's more realistic
Then the tales being told by the old.

PS.I once pissed on my cousin and her boyfriend from a bedroom-window above the doorway they were standing in. I was six at the time.Got a right earbashing as a result.
Be lucky, Peter

Author's Reply:
Dear Peter, delighted to know that you have joined me in such an anti-social episode - guilt assuaged. It was the event that enabled my family to claim that I have never grown out of the anal stage, but I am not sure that they are technically correct, front not back. Yours David.

Pronto on 19-08-2015
What to do on holiday abroad
David,
Your "Pisspotical prose" made me laugh out loud. So typical of mischievous kids everywhere and so well told..

Author's Reply:

Weefatfella on 19-08-2015
What to do on holiday abroad

 photo c673dadc-2d28-4407-9a21-a191bcf6d656_zpsp2y54f3y.jpg

Aye! When you've no pot. Enjoyed.
Weefatfella.

Author's Reply:


War of the Flies (posted on: 07-08-15)
Unsung heroes of the civilised world - and they are not us.

It has taken me more than thirty years of relentless war against house flies to realise that, weight for weight and volume for volume, they are much more intelligent than we are. What's more, they do not appear to need Viagra to multiply. This leads to the Darwinian possibility that they will compete with rats to take over the world when global warming has eventually fried us humans out of existence. For a start, they can fly and we can't. They can walk on walls and ceilings and take off backwards and forwards; we can't. When you move around the kitchen hunting for them, they are never there. The moment you sit down and relax, they are flitting around your head. They can sense tiny specks of food on surfaces wiped scrupulously clean and arrive to benefit as soon as your back is turned. Further, have you noticed that since the 21st century began, many flies now decide not to settle on large areas of flat wall or ceiling and also rarely stay more than five seconds in one place. Like hit-and-run terrorists, they have learned to alight near corners or on ridges in woodwork so that it is much more difficult to launch missiles at them. Here are some useless tips for fly buffs : ....Sticky papers hung from the ceiling are for advertising the fact that you have a fly problem and are too lazy to fix it. ....High voltage ultra-violet lamp zappers deal only with the unintelligent minority of flies. ....A fly swatted in early spring saves a million in the summer. ....A fly has a hundred eyes, but cannot see the sharp edge of a knife if you lower it slowly to tickle its nose. Unfortunately it is easier to sprinkle salt on a wild rabbit's tail than to deal with a fly in this manner. My friend John recently provided me with a new anti-fly weapon purchased in London. It is a spring-loaded pistol that fires a flat perforated plastic shuttlecock at very high speed, but rural Dorset house flies are too quick and clever by half. Even at the 100 mph achieved by the shuttle, they sense it coming just in time to move and take off unhurt. Then they laugh at the ensuing expletives! Obviously London flies are slower off the mark. The RSPCF may not agree, but as a veteran hunter-gatherer I think the shuttlecock missile gives the flies a bit too much of a sporting chance of escape. The problem has forced me to return to my previous most effective method which is a damp, soft, spongy kitchen type flannel about twenty centimetres square preferably green. Fold it into quarters and hurl it hard and fast. The beauty of this weapon is that it adapts to wrinkled surfaces and does no damage if aimed well, but above all, there are no messy marks on the target surface being damp, it is an auto-squashed-fly corpse cleaning system that uses human energy and helps slimming adults. The disadvantage for me is that, although I was a pretty sharp cover point fielder in my cricketing years, the power and accuracy are bound to fade soon and our best china may suffer. Like many people, I am allergic to the nasty chemicals in pressurised insect sprays and have never used them. Fortunately the really toxic ones are now banned and should never have been applied in the kitchen anyway. In the mid-1930s my father told me that the communist Red Army had plans to eliminate all flies in China. If he had been alive fifty years later he would probably have heard them say they had switched the funding to preserving the panda population. Clearly the flies won.
Archived comments for War of the Flies
pommer on 07-08-2015
War of the Flies
Made me laugh David, the flies will always win.As far as them being able to fly, they can take off any way they like,they must have invented the vertical take off.Our cat is pretty fast, but even he can't get the better of them.Yes,you are right, one day they might take over.They have no problem to get through the Channel Tunnel.Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
If you cannot be bothered with a damp flannel, take The Times daily. Flies seem to prefer death from an up market newspaper - they get more virgins when they become heroes after death from this paper. Glad the piece drew a laugh and thanks for bothering to read 500 words...David

chant_z on 07-08-2015
War of the Flies
A jolly good time. Michael Mann's invention of white surfaces doesn't make it easier and I'm afraid we're reliving that at present. I'll pause and listen to Elvis Presley's "Surrender".

Author's Reply:
We will fight them on the beaches--- we will never surrender. White surfaces do not attract flies so living at the North Pole is the only escape. Jolly hockey sticks and all that. Thanks Chant-z for the advice... David

Andrea on 08-08-2015
War of the Flies
What you need, Bozzz, are lots and lots of frogs...

Author's Reply:
Dearest Andrea,, Before importing millions, on a biological point I am not sure of your advice. Surely frogs eat water flies while spiders eat house flies? Of course I can write only of English habitats. Still, my tongue is long enough already to try a frog method - will keep you posted.
Yours aye, David

Mikeverdi on 09-08-2015
War of the Flies
Errr..... as Lesley and I are coming up to see you both soon, can you ensure the "Fly" problem is under control by then? 🙂

Great stuff old friend HaHa!
Mike

Author's Reply:
Special Cameron "Swarm" on standby to assure you a brilliant welcome at Downlea House. Langton Hotel and Dinner booked for night of 18th.
Thanks Mike - looking forward - Our best to you both... David.


Celebrity come glancing? (posted on: 03-08-15)
'Cricket-speak' our real language?

Having used the old cricket term 'daisy cutter' to name their latest ground-clearance bomb, should we encourage the US military to adopt a larger part of our national game terminology? We can tell them that a 'beamer' is an unpleasant 'bodyline' delivery, but it is also an accurate description of the precision smart bomb guided by a laser. If it misses its target and hits a residential building, maybe that's not collateral damage at all, but just a 'wide'. When their helicopters land mountain troops equipped with mules to chase the Taleban, for sure the operation is a 'donkey drop'! Will their army accept 'leg stump' as a description of a land mine - or is a long route march more apt? Perhaps a 'run out' is a realistic way of describing a strategic withdrawal perish the thought. We could go on and on. Despite the terpsichorean triumphs of our country's white clad sportsmen on TV, many ladies I have spoken to believe that a 'leg glance' is probably something that men enjoyed when they visited the Windmill Theatre or the Folies Bergere. To do with cricket? You must be joking! In fact it is one of the most delicate shots in a batsman's armoury - on the field of course. Best avoided though if there's a 'leg slip' in place. Leg slip? Surely that's an article of women's clothing? A 'glance' on its own is an entirely different matter frequently a throwaway message to the opposite sex, a mere hint that chemistry exists, but no more until it becomes a stare inviting eye contact. Best to leave it at that. This not a body language lesson for ten year olds. These examples illustrate how language is an open invitation to lateral thinking. Using activity similes is just that applying the same words to describe different situations. Some say it's an important part of our national reputation for creativity. Others hold that it is just one more example of our lazy thinking; we cannot be bothered to invent new words for new situations. Yet more claim it as the answer to why we need fewer words to describe things than any other tongue. Whatever the reason, understanding the English language (the real cricket test) is a far more difficult barrier for immigrants than getting through the hoops at a port of entry in the first place. When I left school to go to university my art master summoned up great courage and put in my final term report "I'm glad he's good at cricket". That was a fine joke until my father came to read the Latin and French reports and they said exactly the same thing. The terrible truth is that I wasn't particularly good at the game either. Clearly a 'hat trick' for the staff eleven. A hat trick? Isn't that something to do with rabbits? Absolutely correct. Will those who did not know that 'rabbits' are also tail-end batsmen likely to score 'ducks' please leave the country at once before they are deported. Good heavens! Where have all the cabinet ministers gone? Come back John Major. David August 2015
Archived comments for Celebrity come glancing?
pommer on 03-08-2015
Celebrity come glancing?
Hi David, this is most amusing to read, and in spite of the fact that I am an illegal,legal immigrant who loves watching a game of cricket, especially in a village in Yorkshire on a warm Saturday afternoon.I learned a lot of the terms from her indoors, who used to play cricket at school.Happy days.Well David this one stumped me, and you hit a boundary with it.Peter.

Author's Reply:
Many cricketers thought the end of the world had come when a man called "Strauss" became the England cricket captain and then had a further shock when "Kieswetter" became the England wicket keeper !!! Pro-European plots to prevent the UK leaving the Union? - and now you become a spectator ! Glad you found the piece of interest.... Yours aye, David

Mikeverdi on 04-08-2015
Celebrity come glancing?
Never fail to entertain, another great piece David.
Mike

Author's Reply:
I never knew that, among poets it would take a German and an Italian to appreciate a cricket story. Thanks Mike...David


Your Yesterdays (posted on: 03-08-15)
When things were old and knights were bold. Now 'The Grudge it budget.


Think not of the glorious past, your yesterdays that were. The bricks you dropped, the champagne popped, the car you drove too fast. Think what to do at morrow's dawn to help the world go round; your morning pee, her cup of tea; priorities are born. Some milk spilled on the kitchen floor, gooseberries in the sink. You try to cook, read from the book, it's all been done before. Ever since the world began and caves were found to fill, she did the bake, he ate the cake, the hunter-gatherer man. But modern lad hunts jobs all day, gathers rejection notes; she works part time, he turns to crime, all zero hours, no pay. The Chancellor's done his forecast sums, you're better off by far, with benefit cuts, no ifs or buts, tomorrow always comes. David August 2015

Archived comments for Your Yesterdays
Supratik on 03-08-2015
Your Yesterdays
Hello David, I was very happy to read this poem. Simple yet profound! Bravo!! Best. Supratik

Author's Reply:
Thank you Supratik - Glad you spotted the profundity, for your compositions have depth too.
Yours aye...David

sweetwater on 03-08-2015
Your Yesterdays
Never a truer word written, those days of order and knowing your worth seem to be scorned today. A very telling write. Sue. X

Author's Reply:
Yes, Sue, it is really the younger generation who are taking pain caused by the system - the greed and incompetence of the bankers and politicians. Many thanks for comment...David

Mikeverdi on 04-08-2015
Your Yesterdays
Writing at your best again David, this is your world.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike, but we need to have your words of wisdom on the page as well.Yours....David

chant_z on 05-08-2015
Your Yesterdays
An eloquent write indeed. Speaking to the reader (or me) in a simple way. I admire this kind of writing.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Chant z for your generous words. The aim was to create a series of images that related to a series of typical situations which were them selves related and hopefully told a story. Best wishes, David

pommer on 07-08-2015
Your Yesterdays
Another excellent topical write. Peter

Author's Reply:
Apologies for delay - thank you Peter. Afraid I just forgot to honour my commitment to you all on this occasion...David


The Caliphate. (posted on: 31-07-15)
Above 60? You might recognise the problem.

After long negotiations between the great celebrity chef in the sky and my superiors, it has finally been agreed that I will never make it as a cook not even as a skilled potato peeler or a boiled egg de-sheller. Fortunately this has led straight to discussions as to what else I, a qualified engineer, might be suitable for in the house. The digital age? aha!. that must be it. The Hi-tech Caliph of all the 0s and 1s at Downlea. My ego swelled at the thought. Been in computers all my life. Let's start with the many territorial gains I may make in this field. Enter the United Nations adjudicator. First, the dishwasher. Mr Boswell, do you know how to top up the rinse aid system? er no, what is that? What about the salt where do you put that in and how much? er no, not really. Which filters need attention and when? er - no idea. Sorry, you have failed that test, but you may continue to load and unload it under supervision. Now, the washing machine. Where do you put in the detergent and how much? Er in the drawer with the plastic shovel, but no idea how much. Well what is the right setting for the timer? Er what timer? Oh you mean that knob you click around er no is it Z ? Sorry Sir, you fail on that one too. Microwave. How do you change the operation from microwave to fan oven? Well my wife knows how so I just ask her to do it ‒ if she is not there I push all the knobs in turn and hope for the best after two minutes. Sorry failed. What about the TV and DVD player in the sitting room. Can you set up a recording of a TV programme and then play a DVD? Well yes, sometimes, if the angels are on my side. If the DVD is something like ''50 shades of grey'', I usually manage it. If it doesn't work, I use standard electronic procedure a kick from the rear. Sorry, not good enough fail again. Now then, I am told at least you do know how to handle a laptop computer, so presumably your wife's new I-Pad is no problem? Er, well, the fact is I can never find the prodder and my clumsy fingers always tend to press three of those silly tiny button areas on the screen at the same time. As my wife is on a special course, I leave it to her. But I do know how to tell if an e-mail has come there is a little squawk. Mr Boswell, I think we should stop now. Obviously the digital phone and the tumble drier will also be a bit too complex for you to cope with. So that leaves you with the toaster and the electric blanket. Not much of a Hi-tech Caliphate is it? Er No. . David July 2015
Archived comments for The Caliphate.
Ionicus on 01-08-2015
The Caliphate.
As I am a technological ignoramus, I recognise the symptoms and sympathise.
Much better to delegate.

Author's Reply:

ValDohren on 01-08-2015
The Caliphate.
Can manage the wife-orientated stuff, but there is a pile of equipment in the lounge which came under my late husband's remit, but now just sits there redundant as I don't have a clue !
Val xxx

Author's Reply:
Dear Val, are there no younger relatives who might be willing to sort and receive? Most electronic stuff gets out of date within a year or two anyway. If nobody will cry if you dump it - shed a tear, be brave and take it to the household waste disposal centre.
I guess Meg will be lucky as our sons and grandsons are technically clued up and will be available to help with my junk. My best, XXX.. David

sweetwater on 01-08-2015
The Caliphate.
Well I thoroughly enjoyed reading this, and now I feel a whole lot better about myself. Bring back the days when things were more mechanical than technical. I used to be able to help strip down a bike engine, but I just cannot figure out the sky box!

Author's Reply:
Well Sue, I can't tell you how much pleasure it gave me to read your comment. Having stripped down so many bike engines in my youth (I was also a Fire Service despatch rider while London was being bombed in WW2) and then to find that a fellow poet was a stripper too, confirms that I was given the right basic training for appearance on this website. A big thank you and a thousand hugs. XXX David

deadpoet on 02-08-2015
The Caliphate.
I can (could) strip down my 50cc moped and I can recognize some parts in a hard disc. My sons have taught me quite a bit and I am always willing to learn new stuff- But otherwise I avoid modern machines as far as possible. I do think I'd easily learn how to service a kalashnikov if necessary 🙂
I know you are not alone David.

Author's Reply:
Dear Pia, Kalashnikovs !! Please, not another English rose bound for Syria - how can I persuade you to stay - more hugs - and if I don a Cameron mask while doing so, will that help? Thank you for reading the piece - rather long for me...Yours aye....David.

pommer on 02-08-2015
The Caliphate.
You have all my sympathy David.I enjoyed reading this contribution, and I recognised a lot of things I also have difficulties with, but I am learning. Gone are the days when I was also able to strip my bike engines, and later the car, but it is all to complicated now.Oh for those carefree days when we were "Rockers" Edna and I felt we owned the world.As for Kalashnikovs I think I might still be able to do that.Take care my friend and be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Oh Peter, I have to admit this piece was written with tongue firmly in cheek - typical English humour - or so I thought. None of it is true and I should have indicated that more clearly. So I can only apologise and thank you you for your kindness and sympathy. Mea culpa... David

Pronto on 05-08-2015
The Caliphate.
This struck a cord with me David. Well and wittily written, a joy to read.

Author's Reply:
Delighted to know there is at least one fellow sufferer out there !! Thanks for kind words, my friend. Yours aye, David.

Pronto on 05-08-2015
The Caliphate.
This struck a cord with me David. Well and wittily written, a joy to read.

Author's Reply:


An ode to Co-codamol (posted on: 27-07-15)
A poetic version of the usual advice and warning leaflet in the box. I tried to stop taking her and she hit me with unbelievably painful, horrific withdrawal symptoms. I just could not take it and obediently returned to her. This is a useless attempt at revenge.


Pain killer she purports to be. Addiction/side effects you'd see. Co-codamol, the Devil's moll - addictive sorceress. Try leaving her then Lucifer puts pain in your distress. Her side effect she can select to bring the patient hell. She'll constipate the exit gate with colon block as well. To vomit yes, a sickly mess, your sheets in trouble too. A big surprise, no compromise, no time to reach the loo. You feel alive and try to drive, she'll land you in the ditch. A sudden swerve, you lose your nerve, the god-forsaken bitch. Confusion comes when doing sums, you calculate disaster, fall asleep on mission creep as she becomes your master. Another trick, makes you feel sick, she'll send you to the sink. You thought you were then she'll demur and keep you on the brink. Your appetite declines to bite, she'll stop your will to eat. A crumb or two will do for you, she's made you feel replete. If take her just you really must, then note her wicked plan, for she's the one, the temptress one, she'll hook you if she can. David July 2015

Archived comments for An ode to Co-codamol
sweetwater on 27-07-2015
An ode to Co-codamol
I obviously don't appeal to her then, I have taken it on and off for a couple of years, with no adverse effects in fact I find plain paracetamol works better as a pain killer. Your very clever and amusing record of the side effects is brilliant. 🙂 Sue.

Author's Reply:
Do you think the drug companies would offer me a job making the side effects sound more exciting?
Somehow doubt it! As to your appeal to the Moll, you are the clever one - afraid I was always one for the ladies - fatal flaw. Thank you Sue.

gwirionedd on 27-07-2015
An ode to Co-codamol
She sounds like an exciting mistress. Although I'm sure there are even more dangerous and addictive ones to be found out there...




Author's Reply:
Thank you Sir. You are welcome to my eight daily appointments on this one - bring your own whip. Cheers my friend...David

Mikeverdi on 28-07-2015
An ode to Co-codamol
The pain behind these lines is difficult to read old friend. Once again you make poetry out of the situation.
I think we have to do what makes us feel better now ....and fuck the rest of it.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Good advice Mike - thanks. Trouble is that once you are addicted (that only takes a few days) every time you try to reduce the dose at one time of day - say midday - she thinks you are trying to escape and actually redoubles the pain herself - Catch 22. One is forced into taking more than
one may need. I publish really to give warnings to others. My own doctors have not given any lnfo about addiction to me - and that is common because they know that almost all pain killers are addictive in varying degrees - but they do not like to broadcast it, even paracetamol. Peter's doc has the right idea - see below.....My best,,,David

deadpoet on 28-07-2015
An ode to Co-codamol
Sounds like me and my smokes. I found out I am a smoker and as it hasn't killed me yet I will continue- it's too damn difficult to quit. Don't beat yourself up for taking the pills- though side-effects are pretty awful- I think one should balance it with all the other things in one's life which are good and wholesome- It is a serious poem full of self-doubt and frustration- It's never fun to be beaten, is it? We all have vices ad if it takes the pain- give in to it- I wish you well 🙂 Pia

Author's Reply:
Bless you Pia for your sensible and kind thinking. I know that at my age I should not be worried about extending my life by taking less painkiller - but it is just survival instinct too strong ! I know that liver damage is the result with this drug. Moral - do not read the instructions that cone with the pills....XXX David

pommer on 28-07-2015
An ode to Co-codamol
hello David,
I like the poem, as it really hits home.I have had to take various pain killers over quite a few years, due to post herpetic neuralgia due to a bout of shingles in late life.My GP kept changing them,saying I might get addicted. I told him to stop worrying, because if get addicted at my age, who the bloody hell cares.I now take a couple of Codeine Phosphates when required.Mind you, any Codeine preparation makes you constipated.Still it could be worse. Don't give in David. A good poem on a difficult subject.Your friend Peter.

Author's Reply:
More good advice - thank you Peter. I had not meant this poem to turn into a moan - but just to inform in a jocular fashion as I am on this lot for the rest of my life . I will shut up now on my problems >>> David

ValDohren on 29-07-2015
An ode to Co-codamol
I've been taking the stuff for years, need it for the pain. Used to be on anti-inflammatory medication but GP took me off them because they have their own hazards, so what can one do ! Carry on regardless I guess. Great poem David, you should have it published in The Lancet.
Val xxx

Author's Reply:
Thank you Val - and as you say, all of them have hazards, but we have to carry on regardless. The doctors do not like to speak of long term side effects and addiction, so I can just see the editor of the Lancet projecting my poem out of the window. Thanks for the kindly suggestion though. My best...David


Christianity, modern version? (posted on: 24-07-15)
For whom the cash desk really tolls - Christianity.


Nature's bell of twilight tolls, it rings for me, it rings for you, time for gathering of souls, though evensong for precious few. A Christian country, is that so? For marriage, walking up the aisle, for birth and death, we sometimes go, but just for 'putting on the style'. Easter, Christmas holidays, the public choose to fly abroad. Not quite what the bible says, services become ignored. The supermarket's now the church, it caters for our living need. Each aisle rewards a weekly search, the pay desk, altar, seals our greed. Belief in god? well most say 'no' ! 'He never helped us when we prayed, I used to think him worth a go; afraid he never made the grade'. Others say just 'C of E', try to hedge their heavenly bets, mean 'Case of an Emergency', at Peter's door they fear regrets. A Christian country, yes of course ! Whatever made you think we're not? In Lords the Bishops sleep in force, at Canterbury bemoan their lot. David July 2015

Archived comments for Christianity, modern version?
pommer on 24-07-2015
Christianity, modern version?
Well and truly captured as usual.I suppose attending church on these occasions will increase and become more fashionable now the young Royals are attending with much publicity.People are like sheep, perhaps attendances will now rise among the young.Hope that you and Meg are keeping well. Peter.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Peter for making the effort. Not sure if Royals attending church will have much effect but glad we are like sheep rather than piglets !! Perhaps more attention paid to church if they do more to stick up for the poor?. Yours and my best, David

Mikeverdi on 24-07-2015
Christianity, modern version?
Just don't think I can justify religion. To many wars and killing in its name. Great writing David, you always hit the nail on the head with these.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Hitting nails? Well carpentry was my strong suit at school - and my art master's final report when I left was "I am glad he is good at cricket". Thanks Mike, good friend.

Gothicman on 24-07-2015
Christianity, modern version?
David, this is one of your best IMHO, couldn't put it better in free-verse Hahaha! This one is for the fav. list. I worked based in Canterbury for two years 1998/99, even attended Mozart's Requiem concert in the cathedral, fabulous experience, but, in my case, only as a cultural, historical event of course! Whoever thought that religion would end up as an equivalent terminal disease in the mental sphere, and just as progressively insidious! Modern Man's most shameful failure to adapt in the wake of civilisation, as an essential part of becoming civilised, leaving primitive superstition behind us! Brilliant poetry as expected.
Friend Trevor

Author's Reply:
Trevor, good friend, rhyming or free, I could not put it better on religion that you have above. It was invented as a software product in the beginning - as a means of political control and extraction of money and goods - the birth of capitalism perhaps? Beat that Mr Google. But we have to live tolerating the results. Thank you for your kindness in commending the poem - I am very honoured to be in your collection. Yours, David

sweetwater on 25-07-2015
Christianity, modern version?
I was so impressed with this insight into human nature and how scared we have become to admit to ' believing'. I believe in God, I have a 'word' with him every night, thank him for the day and keeping all my loved ones safe, and ask if he will protect them tomorrow, thank him for all the good things and ask for help for myself or others with the bad, He has never let me down. However I do not believe in the so called men of God who defile their church and religion by going against all the Bible says, for their own sick gratification. This gay marriage thing is condemmened in the Bible yet the church are allowing it? I suppose because a lot of them are gay. No wonder people no longer respect or look towards the church it sets no example whatsoever anymore. Oops as you can see your brilliant poem has open floodgates here! 🙂 Sue xx

Author's Reply:
Sue, I feel so glad that you are able to give expression to your religious feelings here - and that goes for mine too. Whatever helps us in our journey through life must be cherished and respected - for real meaningful help is in short supply. I do agree with your comment on the antics of the church - buffoonery - a sideshow - in the face of world problems is no help to anyone. In friendship...XXX...David

gwirionedd on 25-07-2015
Christianity, modern version?
You make an interesting point, that nowadays we attend weddings, christenings and funerals in order to "put on the style".

The first one, definitely. Why get married in a registry office, when you can flaunt your funky stuff in front of a giant organ?

Not sure about funerals though. Having said that, when my friend Bobbie, a young and crazy artist, took her life at the age of 23, we attended her funeral in ridiculous costumes, at the request of her mother. People were dressed as pimps, spacemen and owls. I wore a smoking jacket with a Stasi armband on it. It was what she would have wanted.



Author's Reply:
Emphasising the lighter side of a friends life seems to be de rigeur these days at funerals, but ridiculous costumes sounds like music hall - so what ! Your concept of the big organ as background to marriage ceremonies is a great thought, though today for how many couples will it be their first introduction to the instrument? Thank you for your this time delightful comment ! In friendship, David


With morphine in mind? (posted on: 20-07-15)
If only nature listened.


As he limped along and cursed his wretched hip he'd mutter to himself "Its only pain, you cannot die of pain". Now his neck has added to the list he thinks again; for yes, we die, not of pain; more from the poisons that we take to quell it. If only nature listened, heard the silent cries of aching bones, says ''You've had enough come leave this world'' and on the instant die. This without the agony of slipping mind for that is what gives pain to those who now must watch him, slowly go. David March 2015

Archived comments for With morphine in mind?
Mikeverdi on 20-07-2015
With morphine in mind?
Excellent writing, the subject is painful in it's self.
The writing of this so eloquently, shows you aint there yet David. Keep going and rave on old friend.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Well thanks Mike for encouragement to keep trying. I had vowed not to write about my troubles, but thought this was worth a shot in third person. Hope that the big shock will not stop you and to see you in full flow again soon. My best to you both....David

deadpoet on 20-07-2015
With morphine in mind?
It's a wonderfully descriptive poem - pain is a hard one- aching bones- poor you. Keep writing these great poems..

best
Pia xx

Author's Reply:
Pia, my thanks for your kind comment. Yes, aching bones are the divine right of old age and we should not complain but we do. More powerful drugs could relieve things but also mean loss of good sense and mobility. Many of us will have to make the choice at some point in life and I know I am lucky to be alive and have a means of expression to hang on to .... My best good wishes...David

ValDohren on 21-07-2015
With morphine in mind?
Oh how I can relate to this David - from the neck down, and including the neck, and that's without the heartache to top it all ! Good one.
Best wishes.
Val xxx

Author's Reply:
Very Dear Val, Yes, indeed you have my deep sympathy for I realise I am lucky to escape the extra pain of the loss of a loved partner - there is always someone worse off than oneself, but that is little comfort to you or me. We soldier on as best we can and try to contribute what we we still can and in your case that is an excellent offering. Stay strong...XXX David

pommer on 23-07-2015
With morphine in mind?
Oh how I feel with you and others of our generation.I too feel pains all over the place,the latest is the arthritic pains my knuckles, not nice as you know.But like yourself I am still very lucky to have Edna,and that I feel fit enough to look after her.Love will conquer everything.Liked the poem. Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Sorry for delay. In our situation, everything depends on the driving forces within us. You are quite right, staying well means feeling well enough to do things that we love. Without them we may as well plead for death. Thanks Peter, yours David


Looking back to the manger (posted on: 20-07-15)
Late developer makes the grade. From clown to renown?

In Brompton, first of day and lifetime dawned, the comfort of a breast worth more than light. He had his fill and slept, between them, fawned, but soon they disappeared from daily sight. There was no love in bottles off the shelf, nutmilk is the nourishment for trees. His mother would not give him of herself, rickets was her parting gift disease. Bandy-legged, of waddling boys a breed, he joined them lacking vitamins, like D. The urban cowboy rode his rocking steed, a laughing stock at parties all to see. Good fortune came at last with puberty, endowment visible to female gaze. Success that drew not laughs, but jealousy, attraction never ceasing to amaze. 'Randy bandy's legs' a welcome guest. It was not what they looked like 'cross the room, but what hung in between that was obsessed, the bulging loins of manhood in full bloom. And so the waddling warrior made the grade; fame and love-a-plenty more than rocking his 'kingdom for a horse' had been delayed; now mares galore at stable door a-knocking. David July 2015
Archived comments for Looking back to the manger
Supratik on 20-07-2015
Looking back to the manger
The intention of the poem was clear right from the word go! Nothing hidden from the choice of words that's so deftly pointing at, laughing at a lot of things, including 'Randy bandy's legs'! The poem is very well developed in the lines of what is mentioned in about the poem! David's poems are very conscious of meters and rhymes, so no disappointment. Best. Supratik

Author's Reply:

pommer on 20-07-2015
Looking back to the manger
Well composed as usual.He certainly did not require Viagra. Ha.Ha. Be lucky David, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Peter my friend, so glad to see you are able to get to the screen again - you had a big shock -hope to see you in full flow again soon. As for this poem, it is basically autobiographical but mostly before Viagra was invented - though slightly over the top in parts. I was indeed lucky ! Yours aye..David

Mikeverdi on 21-07-2015
Looking back to the manger
Oh dear....I must ask Meg about this one 🙂
Great stuff as always David.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike. Relax, see my reply to Gwirionedd below - plus a dab of poetic licence. My best, David

gwirionedd on 21-07-2015
Looking back to the manger
I don't understand who this poem is about. You say it's autobiographical. In that case, are you basically just saying, "I have an enormous penis and I've fucked lots of birds"?



Author's Reply:
Wrong interpretation - charming comment! Just the way your mind works? Opportunities may exist but that does not necessarily mean they are taken. The loins of a male ballet dancer may suffer the same bulging exposure, but that does not necessarily imply a large penis - only that in this case they are they are more visible because of bandy legs. Shame on you sir. Of course the poem is to illustrate that a natural disadvantage can sometimes turn into an advantage. It is partly Autobiographical and partly not. There is no slot for Biography - so Auto was the nearest description. As I am nearing 100, a demo would not be appropriate.

gwirionedd on 23-07-2015
Looking back to the manger
Are you really almost a hundred years old???



Author's Reply:
Well Archie, that was a mite of poetic licence, but not too far out. I am 92+. Apologies, David


The importance of being short (posted on: 17-07-15)
Short description of short. For the attention of cricketers only


Upon the cricket field, where grass is short, bat meets ball and fielders chase it far; long-trousered men play ancient English sport before they end up drinking in the bar. Batsman short of runs, batsman's hit just short of the boundary, batsman two short of his ton, batsman run out just short of the crease. batsman's snick just short of the slips a short run does not count, Leg-side fielders stand at : short leg, short mid-on, short mid-wicket, short leg slip, short fine leg, short square leg. Offside fielders stand at : short slip, short mid-off, short cover point. Bowlers bowl : balls short of a length, off a short run-up, fast bowlers have long runs but short tempers. Umpires have a few short words with players. Commentators never short of words. But do not get them wrong, most cricketers drink long ! David July 2015

Archived comments for The importance of being short
ValDohren on 18-07-2015
The importance of being short
Very good David, up to your usual high standard. Being just 5ft tall, I know all about short !!
Best wishes.
Val x

Author's Reply:

Gothicman on 19-07-2015
The importance of being short
Hi David, the umpire lined me up middle-to-leg, so that while walking without finger after nick and roar, fast bowling Lb's were very rare, especially as I was a straight-arm "forward-driver", not an "assist-byes" on there way type! Only those sly leg spinners had any chance with me, my Achiles heel! And anything off-wicket I let go for the first ten overs, to wear the buggars out! A short square-leg soon moved away very long when I applied my only other attack, the Compton sweep! How can I give a short answer when you're talking cricket! Usual brilliantly-composed poem by the way! Hahaha!
Friend Trevor


Author's Reply:
Thanks Trevor - I did it just for a change. As far as getting you out is concerned I think that your classical straight bat training would have made me resort to my underhand daisycutter - while you were not looking, of course. I think we should both forgo the gentle sledging words that pass between us on your way back to the pavilion. The public might be shocked. Cheers good friend...David


On losing a cricketing friend (posted on: 13-07-15)
There are six balls in an over hexameter is therefore appropriate, but difficult even for a spinner. Warning : You will have to have played cricket to understand this piece.

A mumbled string of words comes tumbling out each morn; the life is there, bereft of meaning and of soul. There are no yesterdays to live nor morrows born, the sadness of a mind that cannot bat or bowl. Meanders dormant in a field unmown and shut, long leg, in sleep, to miss the passing lofted ball, wakes only to the sound of scoop and nudge and cut; the tableware that drives existence for us all. ''Three slips'' he used to say and set both deep and fine, silly mid-off, short leg, to catch the 'bouncered' one, then growling flings the 'yorker', true and dead on line, but joy of rattled stumps ‒ no longer there to come. ''Middle and leg'', he'd ask, to scrape his guard and pause. First ball goes for six, the growl becomes a smile, the tea ladies clap gently, the team roar their applause ! Alas no more my friend, as you'll have to wait a while, for cricketing in heaven a long forbidden cause ‒ players chose unwisely their sledging words in bile. Bowlers now seek hell, the Devil's in their mores. David July 2015
Archived comments for On losing a cricketing friend
teifii on 13-07-2015
On losing a cricketing friend
I love the clever use of cricketing vocabulary here. And it even rhymes and scans.
Daffni

Author's Reply:
Hi Daffni, (alias Daphne?), I love your translation! Apologies if I am wrong. Cricketing poems are not very common, so I was delighted to get to your comment - and thank you for your kind words. David

sweetwater on 13-07-2015
On losing a cricketing friend
A very fine poem indeed, my father was a great cricket lover and player. He also deeply appreciated good poetry so he would want me to congratulate you on the cricket references and the poetry. It reminds me of an older poem I have in a 1930's book of his. Sue.

Author's Reply:
Dear Sue, I am not sure whether there are many poets who are cricketers or vice versa, so it was a lovely surprise to receive your comment - and of course your commendation plus, it seems. a nib! Sincere thanks. Coming from a great natural poet like yourself is truly an honour. If you have a copy of your father's book poem I would love to receive it, though I realise it may be difficult to scan and e-mail so don't fret if it is any trouble. Fondest good wishes...David

sweetwater on 14-07-2015
On losing a cricketing friend
Hi David, sadly I cannot take credit for the Nib, I don't think anyone is sure who actually awards them! But if I did have the power I certainly would have done. I appreciate your very kind compliment in calling me ' a great natural poet ' it's very flattering. I have no idea how to scan and send anything, but if you search online I am sure you would find the poem I mentioned: it is "Hambledon " by Alfred Cochrane. I have also added three other cricket poems in the same book. " Verba Non Facta " again by Alfred Cochrane, " The Last Spring " by G.D. Martineau, and " Past And Present " by William Kerr. The book itself is The joy of life, by E.V. Lucas, first published in 1927. I hope this is of some help in finding the poem. Sue 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thank you Sue, I will have a search. My best, David

Gothicman on 15-07-2015
On losing a cricketing friend
Fine poem, and tribute, David. Opening bat in my time, facing wannabe Tyson typhoons, Statham expresses, and Underwood googlies! After school, often in the nets at Dulwich Park boldly facing newly arrived fast-bowling West Indians! If anything, teaching me not to feed the slips with that awful sounding click! You include much of the verbal joy of playing the game and capture the sadness of being denied that quintessential English lifestyle. Long live the village cricket green! I should think if there is a Heaven, God will be sitting in his deckchair watching their eternal playing and clapping every ball that reaches the boundary! Incidentally, I always walked without dissent, sign of the true gentleman! Hahaha! Best medicine of all, not just for you, great creative poetry.
Friend Trevor

Author's Reply:
Well there's a turn up for the book - amazing to think of a non-phlegmatic Scandinavian as an opening bat - though of course there were always Strauss and Klieswettter to come. Strange too that I was also opener for club teams like West Herts, Mill Hill and Folkestone - that until my years downgraded me to number 7 - the 'quick 25 before tea' man. I know that Grace seldom walked and indeed sometimes never, But I was well brought up - never to question an umpire or referee in soccer, tennis, table tennis, croquet ad inf. Thank you good friend and now fellow cricketer - delighted to shake your hand - but only after I had dismissed you with a rollicking googly. Yours aye, David


Bearing gifts to the Greeks? (posted on: 13-07-15)
Repeat of Friday's entry. A tragic role reversal. Comments on a disaster in ballad form. [To save you the bother - Plutus was the Greek god of wealth]


Plutus leaves the Parthenon, Olympus now bereft. Oligarchs have fled the scene, there is no money left. Europa grumbles at the mess, the Goths uncivilised; bag all the sunbeds on the beach; Athens not surprised. Brussels deals no helping hand, convenes the coven circle to stir the broth of punishment, the witch, Angela Merkel. Austerity her recipe brought 'wrong sort' of growth; condemned the population to a cancer bred in sloth. Lagarde alofts her magic wand to summon adult Greeks, but all are worldly wise enough to shun the deal she seeks. Creditors wail songs of hope; good money after bad? Should have thought that years ago 'Greeks bearing gifts, we're mad'. Draghi waves a final card, jumps high upon his bureau. In suicidal dive declares 'A penny for the Euro'! David July 2015

Archived comments for Bearing gifts to the Greeks?
Savvi on 13-07-2015
Bearing gifts to the Greeks?
You are very talented Bozzz and your poems always make me laugh out loud, this one doesn't disappoint. Best Keith

Author's Reply:
Thank you Keith for kind words. Laughter is my mission in life. In this respect there is graded achievement when watching someone read one of my poems. Pleasure from a grunt, happiness from a smile and delight from a laugh. Yours much appreciated, David

Andrea on 13-07-2015
Bearing gifts to the Greeks?
Haha, lovely, David! Seems to me the Greek in the Street is mightily pissed off at the moment. Didn't they vote 'Oxi' a few days ago? 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thanks Andrea - so glad to be with you again, but it is a struggle - as indeed it is for friend Mike - sometimes for each of us from time to time. The attitude of the Germans on Greece will, unfortunately, have severe repercussions in the future. Their financial support for Greece in the past has been magnificent, but their belief in austerity as the remedy is a serious economic error. Major finance to support investment is the only way they will get any of their money back -austerity kills that chance. A shame - maybe it is deliberate to get a Grexit. Secular blessings...David

pommer on 14-07-2015
Bearing gifts to the Greeks?
Hi David,just a quicky. well written.What will happen next?I agree,austerity is indeed the wrong answer.I can see a grexit, and the general disintegration of the "Fourth Reich"Hope you are coping. Myself, not all that good at present, but I never give up.Be lucky, your friend Peter.

Author's Reply:
Dear Peter, so sorry to hear you are having a bit of a downer - survival is the key word for the likes of us.
Many thanks for calling - an effort I know - and for me too. I agree with everything you say re Greece and Germany. Very sad in all directions. Stay strong my friend...David

Mikeverdi on 15-07-2015
Bearing gifts to the Greeks?
Good to see you back on the site, and back on form HaHa!

Anyone who has spent time in Greece would know that for to many years the Greeks had a bad attitude to paying tax. With the B&B situation providing money for most of the Islands, and a great part of the mainland...it was all cash so who could blame them. All the bars and tavernas the same thing.

They like most of the countries that relied on Tourists, they thought it would never end; sadly when the shit hits the fan it does.

There never was the cash reserves in the Greek Banks to cope with the crash. The Greeks were offered money...they took it. The Euro banks are no different than any other, when problems arose they withdrew the line of credit and want their money back.

Will Greece be the only one to suffer this?

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike for commenting. Your words on the Greeks and their situation are very interesting, relevant - and explain much. Better out of the Euro zone. Look forward to suggested dates.
Cheers...David

gwirionedd on 16-07-2015
Bearing gifts to the Greeks?
Yes, I think you've improved it since the last post...

I heard yesterday that Angela Merkel has lent the Greeks 90 billion Euros, which the Germans will probably never see again. So I don't understand why everyone paints her as a wicked witch...



Author's Reply:
Thanks for second visit. Actually I wrote the poem before Angela changed her mind - presumably due to pressure from other Euro leaders. Even so, her prescription is very severe! Cheers, David


Bearing gifts to the Greeks? (posted on: 10-07-15)
A tragic role reversal. Comments on a disaster in ballad form. [To save you the bother- Plutus was the Greek god of wealth]


Plutus leaves the Parthenon, Olympus now bereft. The oligarchs have fled the scene, there is no money left. Europa grumbles at the mess, the Goths uncivilised; bag all the sunbeds on the beach; Athens not surprised. Brussels deals no helping hand, convenes the coven circle to stir the broth of punishment, the witch, Angela Merkel. Austerity her recipe brought 'wrong sort' of growth; condemned the population to a cancer bred of sloth. Lagarde alofts her magic wand to summon adult Greeks, but all are worldly wise enough to shun the deal she seeks. Creditors wail songs of hope; good money after bad? should have thought that years ago 'Greeks bearing gifts!, we're mad'. Draghi waves a final card, jumps high upon his bureau. In suicidal dive declares 'A penny for the Euro'! David July 2015

Archived comments for Bearing gifts to the Greeks?
amman on 10-07-2015
Bearing gifts to the Greeks?
Hi David.
I wish I had written this. Very clever, very droll. The tragicomic situation of Greece in a nutshell.
Bravo.
Tony.

Author's Reply:
Tony, that is indeed a compliment - much appreciated. Hopefully readers will have read enough in the papers to get most of the references. Cheers, David

gwirionedd on 11-07-2015
Bearing gifts to the Greeks?
Yes, I like this too. A clever idea.

May I suggest you add an 'and' before "jumps up on his bureau"? - otherwise, the natural way to follow the metre would be "jumps UP on HIS burEAU", and "Bureau" stressed on the second syllable does not rhyme with "Euro" of course.

Also, are you quite sure that "aloft" is a verb?




Author's Reply:
Thank you Archie my friend for helpful comment. I agree that the bureau situation needs attention, but believe that good poetry means minimal use of 'and'. So taking your point I have amended to 'jumps high'. To aloft is indeed a verb, given poetic licence. (I Googled 'to aloft, verb'). Hope all this is better. Yours aye, David

deadpoet on 12-07-2015
Bearing gifts to the Greeks?
Oh I am so glad to read about these brave Greeks this morning. They are indeed clever peopleand despite their hardships I can only agree with their efforts. I think this is a winderful tribute to them too Bozzz and like you I feel for them .It's a very clever poem. Well done 🙂
Pia xx

Author's Reply:
Dear Pia. Yes, I fear the worst for the Greeks, for the Germans have got their economics all wrong. Growth of the Greek economy is the only way they can get at least some of their money back, but as over the past five years, their impositions will prevent that. Astonishing in its depravity. My sincere thanks for your kind words.... David

Gothicman on 12-07-2015
Bearing gifts to the Greeks?
What a great idea, David, using this well-known idiom (was that because of the Trojan Horse?) to write a fine poem on a topical situation. Like the way you include the main actors as accomplices in this dooming financial arrangement for low-tarrif, high turnover countries of the common currency. Hail German domination, one way or another! Unhealthy and ignoble, even if not meant to be so,and even if the Greeks have ignored early warning signs with such nonchalance? Though the idea was good for ease of travel and cross-payment of transactions, control over own currency rates against others appears to be the sensible option for most marginal and seasonal economies?
Intricate, economical wording on your part, David, that now rhymes to perfection, and saying so much, so many home-truths!
Friend Trevor

Author's Reply:
Yes Trevor, I agree. The price of maintaining the farce of a multi country single currency with which to fight the almighty dollar is very high. The inbuilt mechanisms of doom you correctly suggest will eventually prevail - including a modern type of worldwide internet-based revolution by the oppressed perhaps?
To be honest, the idiom somehow fell into place after I had written the first verse - there was no preconception or equine basis - just instinct guiding what sounded right - Many thanks for your kind and wise interpretation. In friendship, David


''Oh to be in England'' (posted on: 03-07-15)
Not the 'Sun wot dun it' this time, but we the voters. Who will forgive us?

At hustings seek the nearest babe and kiss the mother too. Bless their tiny little hearts, they know not what we plan to do. A life of cuts their future holds to pay for lower tax, Starve the poor that rich may thrive; the status quo, Britannic pax. Finance project HS2 to give the wealthy man ten minutes less of precious time (for crossword not the Business Plan). Make Councils bribe the middle class to buy their homes, now rented; leaving none for poorest folk, homeless sleeping discontented. Children's benefit must fall that Trident can be built to end the lives of other kids who'll know not reasoning of guilt. ''The party of the working man''. The 'posh' promote the spell and we, the fools, fall under it, condemn the poor five years of hell. David June 2015
Archived comments for ''Oh to be in England''
Rab on 03-07-2015
Oh to be in England
Excellent - there's not enough agit poetry around today, and so much need for it.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Rab, not heard the term agit yet, but very expressive. Agree there is not enough.
Cheers, David

Mikeverdi on 03-07-2015
Oh to be in England
Great stuff David, I don't have to agree with it all to say that. Your back on form!
Mike

Author's Reply:
I will have to buy you a drink every time we disagree. An Osborne method of keeping me in line ?
Cheers and thanks ... David

amman on 04-07-2015
Oh to be in England
Ah, the perfidy of politicians. Hard hitting, timely rant expressing what most of the disaffected are feeling.
Cheers.
Tony.

Author's Reply:
Hi Tony, it seems the disaffected are the affected and the unaffected are the happy ones - that is the problem. This bloody language of ours! My thanks for comment, David.

pommer on 04-07-2015
Oh to be in England
Great David, well expressed.Just got back from the Hospital. Emergency admission last Tuesday. Blood clot on lung.Won't be much on site for a day or two.Feel better now,treated well at the RD&E in Exeter.Hope you are better, Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Oh my dear friend Peter, what have you been doing to pick up that problem? Worse still, presumably you have been sentenced to some months on Warfarin - a real bind. I can only attempt help by telling you that after three months I managed to persuade my specialist that I could safely be put on Clopidogrel instead - worth a try! Anyway, I trust you are feeling better now that treatment is under way. We send our love to you. David and Meg.

Gothicman on 08-07-2015
Oh to be in England
Can't argue against any of these sore points, David, all solidarity towards social democracy seems to be lost with the uncertain world caused by USA led aggression, setting the Middle East, and now Far East in revengeful turmoil. Now it's promote the self, from spin to hyping, even politicians have become Hollywood Kens and Barbies, totally wrapped up in their own popularity and vanity! So many bloody lords, sirs, and baronesses; labour lords are particularly hard to stomach! And younger generations without means or opportunity to get an own life together unless children of these obscene privileged 20% at the top of the pile!
Good to read these carefully worded gems of yours, David, tragic truths presented with hard-hitting accuracy using British humour. A combination that is effective in achieving its critical purpose of spreading the word!
Much enjoyed as good representations of my own thoughts and opinions too.
Trevor

Author's Reply:
Thanks Trevor for your thoughtful reply - as you say - not a poem, but just words - angry words.
Nothing else to do now but watch Wimbledon or go 'Greece gazing' and feel even more anger as yet another capitalism-induced tragedy unfolds. Cheers and secular blessings, David


The Moscow Hospital (posted on: 22-06-15)
The Quackless Duck

Kruschev was still in power, but the cold war was gradually fading. Our company, an American conglomerate, was bidding for part of the massive expansion of telephone networks in the USSR. The Russians wanted modern communications systems technology, but made a condition that the successful bidder would also have to send over its technical experts in microelectronics for discussions on the way forward. I had to present a lecture at Moscow University. Having been deposited in one of Moscow's older large hotels, introduction to our guides and a vodka party was the next event - I still have the visiting card of my charming watchdog; Dmitri I. Ivanov. His full title, take a deep breath, was : "Deputy Chief of Division, Foreign Relations Department of the State Committee for Science and Technology of the USSR Council of Ministers. 11 Gorky Street, Moscow". He was a jovial character who had previously been assigned to Bangkok and, according to informed company sources, was renowned as a skilled operative in the industrial spying arena and also in whatever else was rumoured to go on in that city. With previous experience of attempts to recruit me by the Russian Embassy in London, I was extremely careful. As with all large Soviet hotels at that time, on every landing in a corner there was a grim-faced, well-fed elderly woman seated and permanently asleep. Seemingly her sole function was to collect tips and sometimes nod; there was nothing else that I ever saw her do. Within my room stood a large central round table, a comfortable bed, a chair and a small desk. Beneath the table I noticed a cast iron spider structure that probably held the chain for the chandelier hanging in the bedroom below and I deduced that this was also where the microphone was hidden. Having nearly killed Lady Dora Russell at her Beacon Hill School by unleashing a chandelier and been expelled when I was five years old, I did not want to risk a second expulsion. I left it well alone. Next day I woke feeling feverish. The company medic divined that I was not too good and had me whisked into a nearby hospital - probably a delayed adverse effect of the pre-travel inoculations, he thought. Being whizzed chairborne through the corridors you could see that they were spotlessly clean; as was my private room. All the nurses wore dark blue starched ankle-length A-line crinoline skirts; it was like an image from the Crimean war and in one of my repeated deliriums I felt certain that Florence Nightingale would appear at any moment. The reality was different. Characters kept popping in and out of my room. Each pretended to adjust something that did not need adjusting, washed their hands and then went out again. At first it seemed like curiosity; they merely wanted to see what a sick Englishman looked like. But gradually it began to dawn on me. I was under observation. It was not a hospital at all, but a lunatic asylum. I had been kidnapped. My visit to Moscow had only one purpose; giving lectures at the University. Several times in the past in London their so-called 'commercial attachs' had tried to persuade me and my wife to come to an embassy 'party' to meet fellow experts a well-known slippery slope. On UK Government security advice I had always refused. Now they had me. Probably it wasn't the inoculation at all, but something put in my food. How could I have been so foolish? Am I strong enough to make a dash for it? My clothes were not in the room. A pyjama-clad man on the run in a Soviet mental hospital. Not much chance. Likely a bullet in the back and questions afterwards. Just as I was summoning enough strength to get out of bed, a beefy lady doctor burst into the room. This is it. Now I knew the score exactly. She had only come to check body size and assess the right dose level. Injections would quickly follow. Here lies one quackless duck; another slave scientist destined for outer Siberia. Without a word she proceeded to press everywhere that mattered - and elsewhere. To her I was about to become but one more lump of paralysed meat for the next train to Siberia. A short pause to make a note and then strangely she started to poke her finger into many more bodily crannies than might be considered necessary. Obviously she was looking for something hidden bugs? I am sure James Bond would not have tolerated these intrusions without masculine revenge, but her ugliness apart, I felt too weak to consider response. All she could muster in English at the end was a disgusted, "You vil liv", and marched out as suddenly as she had entered. Two days later, one living, maddened but hopefully sane Brit also marched out. Their parting gift lies still unopened in my desk drawer; a small box of Russian aspirins. I asked Dmitri, my official guide, why I had been searched. "Probably just opportunist checking", he said and as an afterthought, "Was she sexy?" Despite my denials he pretended to presume the worst. David June 2015
Archived comments for The Moscow Hospital
e-griff on 22-06-2015
The Moscow Hospital
I see you have joined mikeverdi and myself in our 'warts and all' autobiographies!

Most interesting ...

Author's Reply:
John, you are a hard act to follow. But my warts will always be bigger than yours.
Yours aye, David

deadpoet on 22-06-2015
The Moscow Hospital
This was an adventure- though scary- I thought it was fiction but it is true?

Great writing-
Pia
How to win a Golden Egg!


Author's Reply:
Pia, thanks indeed for making time to read my piece. Absolutely true I assure you. I did liv !
My best, David


Choice of Mojos (posted on: 22-06-15)
The choice of Mojos - priorities matter.

Beneath the pillow lie the lost and found, the Mojo store, each pearl of talent hides a feather for your thoughts in silent sound; the poet's Hatton Garden world abides. Each breaking morn, what will the daylight bring? For some a prose of power to stir the nation, others rhyme to hail the voice of spring ‒ a tide of laughter tempting copulation. No concrete walls to drill for lyric loot, nor locks that test the digits in the mind, but chance is there to plant a telling root, a seed to bring the rhythm of mankind. You seek the words, think pillow for a while. Then faster as your willpower scans the brain, but harder comes the object of her smile. Where luck and love combine, do not refrain. David June 2015
Archived comments for Choice of Mojos
Mikeverdi on 22-06-2015
Choice of Mojos
I really like that David, great stuff!
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike for your kindness - but I feel I am not quite there yet. Looking for vitriol.
Yours aye David

deadpoet on 22-06-2015
Choice of Mojos

Priorities indeed- Great poem and good rhyme!
Pia 🙂

How to win a Golden Egg!


Author's Reply:
My thanks Pia. I am still not sure whether my poetry Mojo has returned after my week in delirium due to wrong drugs prescribed and followed by three falls and then a month in Salisbury hospital. All very exciting in this mad world but at my age one must keep trying.....Yours aye David

Gothicman on 23-06-2015
Choice of Mojos
Choice is not an issue for me, David, not having any Mojos at my disposal! I've begun to realise that free poetry is mental gymnastics for the young fluid brain, we oldies at best can rustle up some neatly structured rhyme, as shrunken brains may maintain a broad vocabulary, but fine emotional expressiveness has deserted us! It's Nature's clever preparation for an end freed from anxiety! I like the poetry themes and styles you list up here, so many observable truths! Brilliantly written as per usual.
Friend Trevor.

Author's Reply:
Trevor friend - have no fear, for I am sure the Hooke's law reading of your brain will still show a very generous figure - you are still young and philosophical. To me it is interesting that, for men, marbles start by residing in the testicles and later transmogrify into short term memory. Father Nature is a clever old sod. Thanks and secular blessings, David

Supratik on 23-06-2015
Choice of Mojos
For me, the poem is talking about choice and hope, but from a distance, more like an observer recounting the circus of life. Best. Supratik

Author's Reply:
You too are a philosopher - in youth we have choice, in middle age we have hope and in dotage we have to recount both from the back seats at the circus - as you say. My thanks, David

amman on 24-06-2015
Choice of Mojos
David.
I would say your mojo is very much alive and kicking. Philosophical, powerful stuff well worth the nib and nomination. Small point - I think willpower in the final stanza is one word, not two.
Keep well.
Tony.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Tony - encouragement much appreciated. Thanks too for the correction. I have been away a month, but before that missed you - hope all is now well. Yours aye, David

pommer on 24-06-2015
Choice of Mojos
Like it, well rhymed David.Peter

Author's Reply:
Hi Peter, My thanks. Through my active life I have found that below 50 there was seldom a choice, above 90 there is absolutely none and in between it is Mother nature who chooses = pot luck. My best wishes. Yours aye, David (aye here is in the Scottish sense, which means 'ever'.

stormwolf on 30-06-2015
Choice of Mojos
Hi dearest David, you sure have not lost your mojo, nor your sense of humour. It's so good to read you and see the recognition of your fine work.

I hope you are managing to strike the balance between the pain and the clear mind. It's a real trial I am sure so be kind to yourself

. Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
Thank you dear Alison for digging back - and for your kind words on my struggle. I too am so glad to see you in print and on form for your own problems are severe I know. As my time on the computer is limited to a total of one hour a day, there is little for browsing, I hope I have not missed any of your postings. I think clarity of mind is one thing and inspiration another, but both are needed for the likes of us. As ever, your friend....David


Human Rites (posted on: 15-06-15)
Fresh out of hospital and hoping Mojo still available. Not a poem, more a prose story with rhyme and scan included.

There is a Bill of Human Rights, but not for me, it must be said for freedom from the worst of pain is not for those who should be dead. At ninety plus long gone I'd be if good sense sat beside my bed. Oh yes, a Bill of Human Rights. To stand upright? not on the list, for swollen head now bowed in shame on cranial bones that can't resist the weight of rhyme that simmers there. 'Oh neck, thy powers now sorely missed !' So Mother Nature's tortures stay exempt from legal rules, I fear her rites do not include 'fair play' tho' miss-spent later age was clear, repent in pain can't sweep away the sins that stem from my career. Like poets searching for a word the 'osteos' and 'chiros' wait, their pins and fingers seeking cure for that which drugs cannot abate. The muscles down the spine stay locked as if in stone their natured state. A miracle, the joy of touch? Will that heal the stricken nerves, banish nature's numbing clutch, give freedom that hard work deserves? A poet's prayer - not ask too much, but seek the best of Luck's reserves ! David June 2015
Archived comments for Human Rites
Gothicman on 15-06-2015
Human Rites
David, how good to see your name again, to know you're still writing with your usual brilliance! Such resilience and stubbornness, an inspiration to us all. I do hope all efforts involved in your care bring some relief.
I 'm so chuffed to read your work again!
Friend Trevor

Author's Reply:
Dear True Friend Trevor (for that you are), your welcome back much appreciated - as would be the touch of your remedial fingers from your poem below mine - a delightfully strange coincidence. Yours aye, David

Andrea on 15-06-2015
Human Rites
Positively Shakespearean!

Hope you are as well as you can be, David. Nice to see you posting again.

Author's Reply:
Dear Andrea. I do have the shakes and am dizzy from peering, but thanks all the same. Yours aye,. David

e-griff on 15-06-2015
Human Rites
as a humpty-backed old man since 2012, when I had a partial vertebra collapse and lost two inches in height, I sympathise. I still get about OK, but my physical appearance aged 10 years in one year, and I'm not quite 70. 🙂 Still, I enjoy what I've got. What the hell - no use creeping about 'being ill' - seen a few like that 🙁

Author's Reply:
Hi John, Mutual sympathy. Yes, enjoy what we have got - quite right - thanks, David

Mikeverdi on 15-06-2015
Human Rites
Ah David, good to see you writing again. Still raging against the things that hold us back, I take this as a good sign, means you still want to fly 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thank you for your headmaster type report - must try harder - will do. Cheers good friend, David

pommer on 16-06-2015
Human Rites
Hello David,
it is so good to see you in print again.I hope that you are reasonably well.I didn't realise you had been in Hospital.(Could have sent some flowers, or better still a bottle of the hard stuff). I had another check-up, and all appears well.
I enjoyed your poem.Best wishes, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Dear Peter, sadly hard stuff and powerful pain killers for life don't mix, but thanks for the offer. Had almost forgotten the taste of water when this lot hit me. I drink pure grape juice now! So pleased your check up showed OK. My best, David

deadpoet on 18-06-2015
Human Rites
I'm glad to see you here too. Hope your ailment is temporary. Good you can write- and read! 🙂
Pia xx

Author's Reply:
Dear Pia, I wish I could say my ailment is temporary, but we have to make the best of what is on offer. My NHS pill packets do not come with a covering letter wishing me well, so thanks you for filling the gap ! My best wishes to you, David

stormwolf on 30-06-2015
Human Rites
You cannot keep a good man down!
Alison xxx
Fabulous poetry by the way.

Author's Reply:
Deeper still ! You can have no idea how your encouragement keeps me afloat - thank you again dear Alison. I have now promised myself not to write another poem about my pain - John Griff is right about that - it is tedious for the reader, however devious the content. XXX... David


The blight of spring (posted on: 10-04-15)
Testing water

When hope is scarce, what's left to write about but ragged skeins of optimistic balm, the 'might have been' if chance had spared a shout. What antidote can silence truth's alarm? The joys of spring, now turned to hate and lies, the politics of wealth pollute the air, freedom dons quintennial disguise, election mars the road to Strawberry fair. Stalls with empty jars of ''morrow's jam'', a tent where ''Mystic George'' will read your butts the Food Bank be prepared for Tesco spam, take roller-coaster rides to welfare cuts, Learn to lodge ''Deficit'' in your soul, ''Austerity'' means joy from dawn to dusk; know your place and join the queue for dole, forbidden in the streets to beg or busk. Farewell to facts when face to face begins, for make believe sits easy on the screen. The hair, the clothes, the eyes, the lesser sins, it matters not what arguments have been. All in it together join the fun. 'Splat the rat' to blow your pension pot, go shoot your fox and blame the wretched gun; let platitudes suffice where truth will not. . David April 2015
Archived comments for The blight of spring
Andrea on 12-04-2015
The blight of spring
Really, really good, David, and lovely to see you posting again - I hope you are feeling a bit better. I was so sorry to hear you have been unwell.

Author's Reply:
Many thanks Andrea. Apols for delay in reply - I am limited to ten minutes on the computer per day - and that hurts me too. Hope lies in a new drug. I saw your note re me and thank you for that too. My best....XXX David

stormwolf on 12-04-2015
The blight of spring
David!:-)))
I have not been about much of late. I am so delighted to read you again and this poem is you on top form!
Just love the passion of your feelings always tempered with humour and wisdom. Fist class.
I am always thinking of you and wishing you well.
Alison xxx
PS congrats on the nib so well deserved.

Author's Reply:
Dear Alison, I can never thank you enough for the support you have given me over time and especially now. My time allowed on the keyboard is only a few minutes every day, but I am now more hopeful about a new drug that was developed for people with epilepsy, but also has the power to reduce pain - madhouse here we come!! - fingers crossed
I think too of you and your burdens but know you are made of sturdy and honourable stuff.
Very kind of you to dig out my piece - it will be the last before I start the dreaded new mind bending pills. My best love,,,XXX David !

bo_duke99 on 12-04-2015
The blight of spring
a true beauty, sharp and acerbic with a human warmth underneath, and much needed just about now - Greg

Author's Reply:
Hi Greg, Your surprise and very kind comment has made me cheer up on a very difficulty day - sincere thanks for that my friend. My best, David

Supratik on 16-05-2015
The blight of spring
David!!! It's so good to read you again! And with a bang! Each power-packed line of this poem talks about wisdom, about letting some hard facts be out in the bag. You talk so openly abut certain giant companies!! I read and re-read...can't help quoting these lines:

Farewell to facts when face to face begins,
for make believe sits easy on the screen.
The hair, the clothes, the eyes, the lesser sins,
it matters not what arguments have been.

This four lines will be on my mind for a long, long time!

Do take care of your health! And CONGRATS on the nib!! Supratik

Author's Reply:


Why not I ? (posted on: 06-03-15)
Sunday, June 18 1972. I was booked on Flight 548 to Brussels. It took off from Heathrow and crashed immediately - all aboard died. Inexperienced second pilot left the flaps fully down causing the plane to stall.

One hundred lay there, dead upon the ground, why not I? For Destiny sat close to watch me die, my name writ firmly on her welcome list. What other god or fate said 'pass him by'? Sunday morning, crisp and fine in June, the Devon air alive, the larks on high; a perfect day for man to don his wings, drive to Heathrow then to Brussels, fly. The Rover stands impatient for my foot', the door ajar, I bend to fit the key; the lightning strike of pain, back gone again, I fall to ground, lumbago-locked yet free! One 'no show', the plane took off and crashed, the one was me. The first news came at six, I watched TV, felt Darwin turning in his grave, abashed, ''Survival of the weakest''? Guilty plea. David March 2015

Archived comments for Why not I ?
e-griff on 06-03-2015
Why not I ?
Wow. I bet you reviewed your life and were nicer to everybody after that escape. To some extent it must have been life-changing.

Author's Reply:

Mikeverdi on 06-03-2015
Why not I ?
And there you are all those years later...life changing indeed. That's some story David. The things that may never have happened in your long and interesting life....
Mike

Author's Reply:

franciman on 06-03-2015
Why not I ?
And now to cut to the poetry, David. Liked it a lot. A philosophical gem. A true story made lyrical and thought-provoking. A poke in the eye of science too. What's not to like?
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:

Romany on 07-03-2015
Why not I ?
Wow indeed. A question you will forever ask I should imagine.

Author's Reply:

stormwolf on 08-03-2015
Why not I ?
Amazing story David!
I have read that many who have experienced being spared by fate in this way, while many others succumbed, can become depressed or carry a heavy burden.
many will say God spared you without asking why did God let the plane go down in the first place?
I have no answers.
I only know that I am very glad you survived to enthrall so many of us in so many ways. I am so sorry to hear of the problem with the spine. I know of it and can only commiserate and ask that you time yourself so I can keep reading you.

Maybe a wee rest and some time may help the inflammation die down a bit but I know its due to a curvature so no easy answers;-(

The poem is skillful and throughout I can still get your wit, even on a dark subject.
The last line I do not agree with.
Nothing weak about you!!!
Alison xxx


Author's Reply:
Well Alison, thank you indeed for those kind words - am a tad low at the moment - better for them, and hopefully my lovely chiropractor will tomorrow work her miracles and give me at least some physical relief too.
To be honest, re the crash I feel that had a god been around at the time, knowing my atheistic tendencies, he would have rubbed his hands at the opportunity, "Got 'im at last"!!! He may punish me for that joke? Time will tell.
Have to be brief...my best... David.


Strip Poker Romance (posted on: 27-02-15)


If you do not care that much then yank the jock strap from your crutch. If you're seeking second best, then just take off your sweaty vest. If your aim is true romance, at least remove your vest and pants. If you've never met before, want a quick one the floor, best hang the lot upon the door. Like as not you will be seen, hope you're flush in hearts begins with Queen. If you fancy him, then lock the door. Tell him that you've played this game before and he must write a little note that says he promises to mend his wicked ways, will never at a poker game be seen or face removal of his in-between. If you do not want to play his game say you treat all naked men the same as bodies that are basically unclean, fit only for the nearest wash machine. Remind him to pin up his filthy braids and anyway, your royal flush is spades. David February 2015

Archived comments for Strip Poker Romance
Mikeverdi on 27-02-2015
Strip Poker Romance
Bloody Hell David....I've had to clean my glasses after this one HaHa! You've been reading my Biography again 🙂
(Typo start of third line) Some wicked lines in here, I would love to read this at an 'Open Mike' event. I love it mate. I think you could weed out a few words but it's bloody good in my opinion.
Mike

Author's Reply:


To whom it may concern (posted on: 20-02-15)
Time is of the essence. Should poetry be understandable - read like the print on a condom packet and enabling immediate enjoyment, or read like an unfinished crime novel, assuring continued headaches?

For whom do poets write the searching mind? their gift to us to read, enjoy the show? Yet some shroud all in mystery, confined to subject matter only they can know. Others seek to entertain, bemuse with logic fit for Mind Games in the Times; like Sudoku puzzles without clues, beat brains with ambiguity in lines. A few befuddle, muddling the scene, events that have no ordered time and flow, like gamblers told by sharpers 'spot the queen', the reader left not knowing where to go. Let favour now reward explicitude, clarity that falls like rain in Spain, the poetry that tells things as they are; no need to write a booklet to explain. Should first time read and first time understood be target set for poets of the day? Lucidity a factor high means good when marking out of ten is put in play? Thickos of the world may have their say, if they can read it easily straight off and know what its about - and on their way, their time is saved you've made a happy toff. Or those who read between the lines may think, ''What does he mean'' a time to pause and ponder. Oh joy at last he's found the missing link, the grass snake is the devil's anaconda ! But when the comment's made and there's reply ''You got it wrong - a worm who chose to wander''. A prick of punctured pride, the guess awry, the reader leaves your piece - a touch less fonder. David February 2015
Archived comments for To whom it may concern
Mikeverdi on 20-02-2015
To whom it may concern
HaHaHa! Never one to step away from controversy David, this should get your post box buzzing! Well written as always old friend. I trust you to tell me if my worm starts wandering in the wrong direction 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
Well dancing worms are in a class of their own - if they did so, it would be in Disneyland. My thanks Mike, just so. David

franciman on 20-02-2015
To whom it may concern
Is that your hat in the ring, David? I enjoyed this immensely. Made me stop and think too.
Thankyou.
Jim

Author's Reply:
My hat Jim?, yes, why not, there's only about three hairs left to hide and they are hardly brown. Thank you for your kind words, Certainly I do prefer to read with understanding and do not hesitate describe myself as a 'thicko' on occasion and ask for explanation. Sometimes I guess wrongly and feel shame at the error, but others may regard it as par for the course. Comfort zone is a precious commodity. My best, David

e-griff on 20-02-2015
To whom it may concern
Very well done. See, you can write without glitches! I'm pleased. And very interesting content.

Author's Reply:
Pure accident John, I assure you! Glad you found it of interest. Yrs, David

Nemo on 22-02-2015
To whom it may concern
You've said it, David - should poetry be understandable? Yes, but it's usually my fault if I can't understand it.
Enjoyed the thesis, Gerald. Have you tired Peter Porter?

Author's Reply:
Hi Gerald. Thanks for comment but does your 'understand it' mean your own poetry of that of others?
Either way you set us all very high standards !
Clive James described Porter's work as "so freighted with learned references that I can't even tell if I don't know what they mean". Other critics had similar notes of qualification: "A poet of superior chit-chat"; "The second half of Collected Poems can read like the Porter pocket guide to western culture, with guilt, religion, sex and the decline of the west, all written up in a tone of the uttermost, maddening reasonableness." Wow, is this most books of collected poems ignore Peter's stuff?

stormwolf on 23-02-2015
To whom it may concern
Oh I ask myself this all the time! Personally, I really want people to understand my poetry as I tend to have a distaste for pretention which can sadly be found many times masquerading as poetry meant for a select readership.

I do think many refrain from commenting on poetry in case they make a balls up and I sometimes fall into that category. The poems that I remember are ones that have engaged my emotions, so whether they made me laugh or cry I need to understand them as a prerequisite.

I love honesty and so really encourage anyone to tell me they don't 'get' a poem but having said all that, I can think of some poems I feel I never really understood but it painted such a picture or engrained on my heart that the full meaning was maybe not required. Well done tackling this subject. Congrats on the nib too.

Poets are not called to play safe. 😜

Alison xx





Author's Reply:
Alison, thank you for what is a true 'considered' comment. Particularly important is your wise point that poets are not called on to play safe - certainly so and I know I am one who takes risks in raising unpalatable issues that may upset some friendly poets - so it is appreciated that it is not only lack of clarity of meaning that can raise displeasure level. But we are a tolerant society and thank you all and your goodness for that. My best to you and your family....David


Who is God? (posted on: 16-02-15)
Personal plea from a somewhat reluctant poet. What other conclusion can fit the facts of life? With apologies to WS. Who is God? What is he, that some of us commend him? Where is his care?

Each day, new madness in the rite of news, despite a mask of silence through our land, each hour the story of a cruel abuse and where was God to show his guiding hand? Each minute of the hour an ailment strikes a human body frail - designed by God? not the workmanship a 'maker' likes, yet who among the patients think it odd? Each second of the minute, sudden death, not natural, but wrought by men at war; each side defends a shabby shibboleth, but where was God to stop them ‒ long before? Now milliseconds toll mortality a moving mass takes life from one more soul; the greed that speeds mankind from a to b; where was God to calm its deadly role? The microseconds haunt the net in space, the threat of hate that springs from mind to screen, each poisoned message tells the human race 'No longer safe at home'. No god is seen. How can the mind of man so sadly fall that he can find a grain of truth within the concept of a god who cares for all when looking at the mess the world is in? Hypocrisy from pulpit mocks our life, ''God cares for you', but gave free will to man'', so will not stay your 'Brutus' with his knife, what care is that? The clerics wrote the plan. It matters not to them we're live or dead, their god lays claim to bodies then to souls, no spur to keep us fit for daily bread as long as we can hold their begging bowls. The truth - God should be saying ''Wake up my friend, I don't exist I'm ancient fantasy. Use your brain, base life on what you know. Your work and play? please count me out. Go forth and run the world religion-free''. David February 2015
Archived comments for Who is God?
Mikeverdi on 16-02-2015
Who is God?
On this we can agree David, Excellent writing about an emotive subject. I still makes me wonder at the lack of 'give and take' within the different religions, the way they kill each other in the name of their god. There has to be some kind of irony there.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thank you Mike for getting me to first base - where there is a god that dares to speak of reality perhaps? Yours aye, David

franciman on 16-02-2015
Who is God?
Hi David,
This should be in the anthology. I've taken the first step. This is wonderful work mate, biting but beautiful and with a long, evocative finish.
I've learned from this poem.
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Coming from you Jim, I can only express a great feeling of encouragement and inadequate thanks for your words and your action in nominating it - and granting a 10 ! Dangerous subject, again my thanks to you Jim...Yours aye....David.

royrodel on 16-02-2015
Who is God?
What is God ?

Author's Reply:
Hi Roy, as the poem concludes, God is 'ancient fantasy'. Of whatever religion, this product of human imagination has been depicted by some as a being, a caring entity that had considerable powers purporting to do good. Again as the poem says, this particular fantasy and the kits of fantasies that have preceded it, have been exploited by groups of human beings to provide them with power and influence - and in some cases through the vehicle of a church, great wealth. A portion of this has been used to proselytise among other nations and in part to provide help to the poor and the lonely. Just my personal opinion after considerable thought.
Regards, David

Nemo on 17-02-2015
Who is God?
The voice of reason has been crying out for centuries. Even Voltaire said 'Si Dieu n'existait pas, il faudrait l'inventer.' (Tongue in cheek?) If only our expensively educated and clever politicians would speak out but no, they still allow berobed clerics to officiate and perpetuate the myth at our ceremonies of national mourning and gatherings to commemorate the dead in disasters, mutilations and traffic accidents. It is no better in schools. My four year old grandson was made an innkeeper at Christmas. There were several Josephs and a number of donkeys as well. The trouble is atheists have no temples or churches in which to intone their chants of non-credo, no charismatic leader drawing in the multitudes. What is to be done? 'Enjoyed' your poem, David.

Brother Gerald

Author's Reply:
Hi Gerald. In a recent UK-wide poll, 20% said they were atheists. Another 10% and that will make a voting block. Other polls have reported that more than 50% do not believe in a god. In time most of our churches will become empty property for sale and IT will replace the need for atheist congregations. I am a herdist, so do not like the latter idea but believe it is likely to go that way. Perhaps fortified restaurants and schools will fill the bill? Thanks for interesting comment....David

royrodel on 17-02-2015
Who is God?
Hi Bozz , Yes but that's "biblical literalism" is it not? Now other than mention some natrual process eg ailments ,frail human bodies sudden death , you talk entirely about human values and human value systems. Now Joe Campbell http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_Campbell said “All religions are true but none are literal.” an attempt to explain the unknowable just as science is an attempt to explain the unknowable. Science can explain the mechanics of eveything, but can it ever explain the why ? The answer is no. what we all want to know is there a reason for us being here and what's the nature of the universe, what is the nature of our consciousness? Then has physics failed?
If the big bang had been one part in a million more powerful life wouldn't exist, if nuclear force was to decrease by 2% then the only chemical to exist would be hydrogen , if the gravitational force was reduced by just a hair the the sun wouldn't ignite, there's hundreds more of these exact scientific parameters, that to agree on them being fact, proves the existence of God. Now I quote Terence Mckenna who pokes fun at the "Big Bang" theory and asked for one free miracle and we'll explain the rest. That free miracle being the big bang https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWv02kYyvo4#t=32 And that's what religion is trying to come to grips with as we are awake in our consciousness in this entire entity.
None of us can know if there is a God but we know there is an us and that means that we are God . Your God is in your image, like me you were created were you not? And that's one miracle I thank my parents for. God is no'ancient fantasy' God is real, if it wasn't you wouldn't have written such a great poem.

Author's Reply:
Hi Roy, first many thanks for your kind words about the poem. Now to the arguments. How many humans wake up and worry and think about why am I here and how did our planet come to exist - and only then bother to put the kettle on? A couple of dozen self-opinionated philosophers and scientists and even a few poets perhaps? Seriously Roy, these things do not matter to most of us and are an unnecessary burden to life. Frankly, I suggest that the idea that we ourselves are gods is just fun and word play when set against the facts and effects of current religions. But that is only my opinion or my personal god's opinion if you prefer! OMG - What happens`when I and my god differ in our opinions? Does my god become my conscience and can therefore be ignored? Does the idea mean that atheists cannot believe in themselves and therefore do not exist?

royrodel on 17-02-2015
Who is God?
Atheist as in not being theist ? The belief that at least one deity exists and, that one deity is you as it is me ,because you do exist dont you ? every cell in your body exists , there is the dilemma . Therefore God does not exist.

Author's Reply:
Atheist, a person who lacks belief in a god or gods. Its official !
The definition includes all gods of whatever ilk in whatever mind or minds.
QED including the one that has been invented as being mine.
Roy my friend, we could go on having tautological fun all night.
Cheers and thanks, David

sweetwater on 18-02-2015
Who is God?
Without religion what excuse would violent, arguementative and greed hungry men have to cause such devastating destruction. Perhaps they would have to admit that it really is all about their own disgusting enjoyment and pleasure in taking it all for themselves, they will never see themselves as the dregs of humanity they really are. Religion is being used as a passport to degredation. If there were no God fighting our corner we would not have an opposing number of aid workers, doctors, nurses and loving human beings trying to counteract such dreadful happenings. You have written a truly powerful and interesting poem.

Author's Reply:
Well Sue, I know your work stays far from the subjects in my poem and we all need and appreciate the pleasure that your poetry brings. I am honoured that you have taken the trouble to comment and grateful for its content and argument. Mine is not a pretty tale - deception, bloodshed, threats, hypocrisy. Hope you bear with the conclusion....Yours, David

e-griff on 18-02-2015
Who is God?
Although this is pretty obvious to those of us with sound mind, it's an exceedingly well expressed plea and technically very good. I'd excise verse five, it doesn't really say much and distracts from the flow/build up.

One techy note, I think 'Wake, my friend' would scan better :-).

Author's Reply:
Thanks John, Reviewed your comments. Remove verse 5? Certainly not, it contains one of the most important messages and will remain. Remove the up from Wake? - well, it's not a true techy - a bit of nit pick there my friend. Don't think I'll bother. Regards, David

holsen on 19-02-2015
Who is God?
There are so many seeking truth and what truth may be. Bottom line, life hurts, and it is confusing. I am a christian, Just so you know. In every belief or religion I've looked into there can be lies and truth, Hippocrates and false leaders. As long as there is evil in this world there will be evil actions, But there is good that can shine and overcome the evil. I guess real truth lies within each self. What truth you choose to believe is your truth. The main issue may be is everybody wants to force their truths on others. (just putting out there what your writing has me thinking.) Even though you wrote on hardness of life I like the deepness of your questions and thought.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Holson for your considered response which, for me, contained many truths. I have often wondered whether an independent cost-benefit analysis of Christianity over the years of its existence would be an interesting project, but defining the two parameters would be almost impossible. So many factors to consider including the effects of interaction with other religions.
Thank you again for your kind words. Your personal views on the 'care' versus 'free will' problem would be of interest ...David

e-griff on 20-02-2015
Who is God?
Fine, as I've said before, up to you. But I'd prefer it if you didn't feel you had to justify yourself by using the term 'nit pick'. Disagree as violently as you like, but please don't try to denigrate commenters.

In fact it isn't a nit pick. If you had varied the rhythm throughout the poem (sometimes good for interest and variety) it would be fine, but here we have a poem with perfect iambic pentameter in nearly every line except this one (except V2 line 3 (three-syllable words are known to be a problem for metre), and V4 line 4 (I see you didn't want to repeat 'and' which would have completed it, maybe 'so'?). This makes it stand out from the rest like a sore thumb to anyone aware of metre, and the extra line and change of rhyme in the last verse is generally confusing. Yes, one can do a different last verse, but it has to have some connection to the preceding pattern you have schooled the reader into expecting, not a step change with no warning. It only requires small changes to fix for me and others who think the same (on the balance of probability there will be others if only a minority). Why not get it right for every reader?

Author's Reply:
Hi John, a nit-pick is a nit-pick, in this case when someone makes a suggestion that does not materially or significantly affect rhythm or message, whether on not it comes from a person who appears driven to expect constant perfection in others. Of course I had a look at the word 'up', but decided that beat wise it was technically of negligible importance and in fact it was a useful spur in the context. If I wanted to attempt writing technically perfect rhyming poetry, I would try to do so, but John, time is of the essence in my life and I do not have all that much left. Please accept that, in common with many who write on this site, I feel the message is more important than the minor technical detail. You have broken your promise again !...Tut tut... Please accept what is offered. Good wishes in your crusade. Regards, David

royrodel on 20-02-2015
Who is God?
Life would be so much easier if God didn't exist.

Author's Reply:
Agreed Roy. Amen !....David

stormwolf on 23-02-2015
Who is God?
Hi David
I see God in every part of nature from crystals to morning dew. All are infused with the Spirit of God in my world view. Having said that, I have found the church to be full of self righteous judgemental people but then again, it's very difficult for humans to live a life as Jesus did.
I can understand, looking at the genocide perpetrated upon people who were praying for deliverance, that many cannot envisage a greater being. I have come to detest religion but I am spiritual to my core.
Well done on expressing your view.
I honour your journey my dear.
Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
Apologies Alison for delay in reply - I have been virtually banned from use of my computer until now - and henceforward permitted only very short bursts. The technical name is cervical spondulitis and the pain is immense and not really controllable by commercial pain-killers. I know that once I am forced to use the morphine trail, my poetry will finish, but eventually it will become a choice - bear the pain and keep the brain intact or relieve the pain and lose my brain. I too respect your views and agree that spirituality is completely different from religion. We make our choice in these matters. My own happens to be based on likelihoods when looking at the available evidence - there are few certainties - what else can a poor scientist do? In the end we are all forced back on subjective judgement. As ever my thanks for your continued encouragement and support. Will write soon. Your David. Postscript Correction Cervical spondulosis not spondulitis - sadly a big change in prognosis.

pommer on 07-03-2015
Who is God?
Hi David,
my apologies for not commenting on this excellent piece of work up to now, but you know the reasons why.Here now are my comments.
I have always tried to avoid talking about religion as this can invariably cause heated arguments.Today I shall make an exception.
With this in mind I asked myself the following questions:
1:When did God come into existence?
2: Where is God?
3:Who is God?
4:What is God?
5: Why is there a God?

These are the conclusions I came to;
1:I assume that God came into existence some time during the evolution of mankind as a mythical figure invented by man.

2:If we believe what most of us have been taught since our
early days, he lives in heaven;where is heaven?(Another mythical thought?)

3:Now this is perhaps the most intriguing question.Every culture appears to have their own Gods or God.We read of the Old Norse Gods, The Gods of the ancient Greeks and Romans,the Great Spirit much adored by the Red Indian tribes of North America,etc.There were however other images man worshipped, like the Cat in Egypt,heavenly bodies like the sun and the moon, the universe,and so on.

4: This to me was the most difficult one.In my humble opinion God is a mythical being that has evolved in man's mind and that has become so ingrained that large numbers of mankind firmly believe that there is a God that rules everything that happens,from the creation of the universe to their daily experiences.This is a belief encouraged by the religious authorities largely for their own benefit.

5:This is closely connected with the above.From the beginning of mankind it appears man required some figure that could be blamed or praised for everything that occurred.At least that is a way of thinking.Why does man think like that? In the past some man must have thought that here was an opportunity not only to achieve domination over others,but also to gain wealth.Are not the religious establishments of various denominations some of the richest possessors of wealth?

I could go on ad nauseam and still not find an acceptable solution to these questions.Having been brought up with a Christian belief on my mother's side, and the beliefs of a sun worshipping communist (another form of belief)on my father's side,I myself can only think that I am responsible for all my own actions,failures or successes.
I hope all this will make some sense.
Thank you David for sharing . Peter.

Author's Reply:
Bozzz writes:
Dear Peter, your comment is just magnificent. IMHO you have set out the right questions and come up with the right logic-based answers. There is nothing more we can do other than carry on being good human beings as best we can. I would only add emphasis on the use of religion as a means of controlling population with fear and also probably agreeing with your father on the opium principle. My personal philosophy is that in face to face discussion, especially with elderly folk, I would not want to rob anyone of their belief in a god if that gives them comfort - but if that person is behaving badly and using their religion as an excuse to bring harm to others, than that is different. Sincere thanks for coming back on the subject and I do hope that this signals a return to normalcy too in your contributions. Please read my reply to Alison for details of my own situation. Keep some good luck for yourself my friend. Yours aye, David


From palmists to psychologists (posted on: 13-02-15)
Adapting the Cretan conundrum "I am a politician - all politicians are liars", What then is the truth?

Palmists now are not allowed to lie, the punishment, a slap upon their wrists. I do not know how some of them get by, fair visitors must all be optimists. The same is true among the columnists, their confessions seen in daily print. But punishment ''Tut tut, just look at this !'', more circulation fills the Murdoch mint. The scanty claddings used to be the rage, his P3 girls who sat there in the Sun. He's moved the flesh to Times 2, cover page, now 'intellects' can have a bit of fun. But what of politicians can we say? They cannot speak but half-truths dance around Does Hansard wipe their porkies every day? What Committee regulates their sound? Solemnity intended at the top, they're trained for that but seldom make the grade, from time to time a joke allowed to drop, but chaos with the soap box on parade. ''I tell no lies'' - the fists are pumped in air, between the fibs there's hardly time to spare. The voice is raised, no audience is there, silence in the middle of the square? At last a few approach him, questions come. ''Why are you here? What's shouting all about? ''You toffs, not short of cash alright for some.'' ''You're young - does your mother know you're out''? ''I love you all, so give me your intents, I've no idea what policy will be, except to line my pockets on expense, please pay your taxes do it just for me. The moment comes, the mike still on it seems, ''That f***ing cow, she must be off her head'', The nightmare of the candidate's bad dreams, Forget the House - it's Colney Hatch instead ! David February 2015
Archived comments for From palmists to psychologists
Mikeverdi on 13-02-2015
From palmists to psychologists
HaHa! We can always rely on you to keep it real David 🙂
I was watching P.M. questions, it was brilliant as they slagged each other off...better than Jeremy Kyle any day.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Quite so. Reality is mostly good only when it is funny. Our lot in truth are a bunch of comedians - but do not have the wit to realise it. Thanks Mike

Andrea on 14-02-2015
From palmists to psychologists
An have you noticed they're all promising the world now there's an election coming up?

Author's Reply:
Hi Andrea - yes it rather odd isn't it ! Heavy dose of salt required for sprinkling on each party's manifesto.

Nemo on 15-02-2015
From palmists to psychologists
If only satire and mockery could make a difference! Too late for you to emigrate to Utopia, I think. Enjoyed as usual, David.

Gerald

Author's Reply:


Some other Imitation Games (posted on: 06-02-15)
Society deceits - cheating? Never!


Our lasses strut on fur-free legs two depilated wooden pegs? Their faces don the daily paint that turns a sinner to a saint, while botox boobs sway in the breeze, the ultimate in body sleaze; But gents turn grey hairs into black, implant where they have lost the knack. The older generation too flash teeth far too good to be true, The Tesco apple glistens red, the flesh is mush, the tongue misled; the grapes packed safely in their wrap conceal their unripe tasteless pap. The internet spreads tempting care, a quagmire for the unaware; 'open me, delight within,' your work now joins Recycle Bin. The 'Linked in' lure, pretending pure, commercialise your sinecure. The 'Facebook' farce that bares your arse, exposes all, your brain, your class; while Twitter casts your follies round, same with You Tube, sight and sound. The log fire flickers fleeting flames, electric fires play nature's games; the phone that says you are not there, lift only when you really care. The life we live brings much deceit, the system though not hard to beat. Our mental strength creates the mix, but those in doubt need help to fix. David February 2015

Archived comments for Some other Imitation Games
sweetwater on 06-02-2015
Some other Imitation Games
Fascinating look at today's real life, false life. I found myself nodding in agreement as I read it. Sue 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thanks Sue. The idea came after seeing the film "The Imitation Game" about Turin's work at Bletchley. Looking at our lives, there is much more to be said on the subject. Enjoyed your wise comment....David

stormwolf on 07-02-2015
Some other Imitation Games
Bravo! Bravo!!!
Loved it David. A real treatise on all the fakery of the modern world.
On the crit side
One line stuck out
flash teeth far too good to be true,
last line , first stanza..

it loses the rhythm ;-(.

For someone as precise as you I have to point this out. The appraisal of poetry is guided by many things and some have no idea about meter and suchlike... so one comments on other things.
You have as a matter of routine.:-)

The ‘Facebook’ farce that bares your arse,
exposes all, your brain, your class;

Ain't that the truth!

You always tell it like it is!
Alison x

Author's Reply:
My thanks Alison for crit. Did actually stumble on the teeth line too, but realised that it really depends very much on how you read it so I left in. That said, I will of course look to smoothing it and the rather weak ending verse is too biteless at the moment. Stay well - avoid the flu...in friendship....David

Mikeverdi on 08-02-2015
Some other Imitation Games
Do we always need to get bitten David? This was good enough to shout out. No one reading your excellent words needed to be bitten to get the point.

One of your best again, should have had a Nib.

Mike

I had no problem with it David, my comment was on you saying you thought it needed 'more bite' in the ending. I was saying it was fine, and hinting it didn't need to be turned into a rant is all. 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike, you are quite right - biting the hand that feeds you is not polite. I do not feel this one bites very hard but it would help to know which particular deceit has overstepped the mark - caused the pain for you? For me it would be my teeth - but to exist I had little option. My thanks too for the invisible Nib, great idea.....Yours, David

Ionicus on 08-02-2015
Some other Imitation Games
A good piece of Juvenalian satire, David, that cocks a snook at modern mores.
Genre: Philosophy (or philosophising?)
Best, Luigi

Author's Reply:
Sorry about this one Luigi - Horatian intent, but evidently Juvenalian result ! You are right, choice of genre list needs reviewing. Many thanks, David.

pommer on 08-02-2015
Some other Imitation Games
I agree with Luigi it is a piece of Juvenalian satire.Well said David,I agree with everything said.Peter.

Author's Reply:
Well thank you Peter, best avoid my piece on Monday - I believe you among others will disagree with what is said, but I have little choice. My best, David


Dynasty reborn? (posted on: 02-02-15)
Dog Kennel Farm at Shocklach Oviatt in Lancashire is a fracking site, one of many in the area. As in the past,Texan acres suffered in a forest of oil well derricks and greedy men - now obsolete, so by new parliamentary law passed last week, Englands small and precious land is now set to share a similar fate. How do we punish those who made it possible?

Monster worms dig under Dog Kennel Farm
Lancastrians, your time has come, the dawn of ranchdom nestles nigh, with fracking holes now scattered wide, the drills of fortune turn your tide. There's Mammon knocking at the door, the gasman turned the billionaire, his bag of tools cast down below. No more mills and cotton thread, just rumbles that awake the dead. What mansions now shall fill the fields all built to live on quaking earth? Less room for crops between the rigs. Big noise above, the thump of pumps with turmoil brewing underground, the hiss of jets, while silent tongues of poison, deadly as in snakes, can seep through soil to lurk in lakes, defile the aquifers our life. The rivers now both pure and clear risk pollution, harm untold if shale escapes the manifold. Ten thousand fracks, ten years in use. No leaks at all? You joke, you wink ! Which county files the first excuse? ''Our water now not safe to drink.'' Green energy the nation's goal postponed by ignorance and doubt. They seek to replace devil coal by turning nature inside out. Unseemly seams neath house and home, the uninvited guests below. Man's castle rests on jet and foam; they come to stay, you can't say No. Still we burn our fossil fuels, the last of inorganic brass. The oil and gas men fight their duels to search the bowels of nature's past. Our leaders mock the crying need, stay with fools, ignoring fate, bow to 'big or bust' and greed, our land of hope waits, desolate. David January 2015

Archived comments for Dynasty reborn?
Mikeverdi on 02-02-2015
Dynasty reborn?
Terrific writing David, one young Storm will love. I agree with all of it. We have a Tungsten mine re-opening on our doorstep, right on the edge of Dartmoor National Park. Great for then economy but as to the rest.....
This is you at your very best.
Mike

Author's Reply:
My thanks Mike. To me awful thing is that this fracking stuff is like;y to be all temporary and in less that 50 years will be obsolete. It is all absorbing money that should be spent on nuclear and other greener solutions. The gas from fracking may be less harmful in burning than coal but it is still hugely damaging. Yours, David

stormwolf on 02-02-2015
Dynasty reborn?
Hi David,
You are the master at writing protest poems infused with both wit and biting satire. The brain behind it absolutely incredible!! Makes me in awe actually. *eyes popping*
I have no great desire to make old bones as some think I am nutty enough as I am, without the complication of becoming more doo-lally (a fate that has never befallen you,) due in part I feel, to being so very engaged in life and living with all its foibles.
I hate what they do to Mother Earth. I detest the lack of respect to the land and all the people too by fracking.
Such short-sighted greed has become the norm in this life....what can we do?
Well, we can write and highlight the pitfalls then maybe some may be inclined to think more deeply but TV rules the brainwaves of the dumbed down masses in many cases I fear.

Splendid poem. The next book should be a real treat (like the last.) ;-))

Alison x


Author's Reply:
Thank you so much for your encouragement and comment - always a plus for me. I am sure other poets will write on the subject soon - though many of the technical realities have yet to appear on paper and in practice. Next book, some doubts - my publisher seems unwell and depressed - disease incurable.
My best to you as ever, David

Supratik on 03-02-2015
Dynasty reborn?
I read this poem over and over again. Flawless David! Well the content though is based out of a specific region (the site mentioned), but I find its relevance across borders. The following lines speak of poetic excellence!:
What mansions now shall fill the fields
all built to live on quaking earth?
Less room for crops between the rigs.
Big noise above, the thump of pumps
with turmoil brewing underground,

Yours, Supratik

Author's Reply:
My thanks for your very kind appreciation. You speak of crossing borders - does that mean there is now some question of fracking in India?. Or were you referring relevance to other energy scenarios? You can read some more aspects on what is going on here by looking at Iconicus' comment and my replies to other commenters. My best wishes...David And my apologies for forgetting to thank you for naming the poem as a Hot Story...David

sweetwater on 03-02-2015
Dynasty reborn?
I totally agree with all above comments, I loved the 'thump of pumps' and 'unseemly seams' the whole poem is one to get the teeth into, wouldn't mind sinking my teeth into the backsides of some of the idiots who allow this rape of nature to even exist, let alone go ahead. If they are not concreting over everything above ground, they burrow below it like malevolent moles seeking the world's destruction. Fantastic protest poem, Sue,x

Author's Reply:
Dear Sue, First, my thanks for naming the poem as a Hot story, though in honesty I do no know exactly what that means - It must be a compliment and I guess I should read the guidelines sometime. The thought of your teeth crunching my words is a delight that any poet should welcome - as you far are more than a wordsmith. I love your "malevolent moles" - why didn't I think of that - so apt. Bless and again my thanks for a great comment ....David

Ionicus on 03-02-2015
Dynasty reborn?
There is no doubt now that you are the archetypal protester, David, a rebel of many causes. Your latest doomsday scenario will be welcomed and applauded by many people. The outcome may not be as apocalyptic as generally thought.
A Guardian headline says:
"Fracking set to be banned from 40% of England's shale areas"
The paper goes on to report:
"An independent analysis by Greenpeace also found that 45% of the 931 blocks being licensed for fracking in England were at least 50% covered by protected areas, which it said was likely to make them unattractive to fracking companies. Just 3% of of the blocks have no protected areas at all, Greenpeace found".
As corporal Jones of Dad's Army used to say, 'Don't panic!'

Author's Reply:
Luigi, you are missing the real points. 60% of England's shale areas is a large area. All the money going into fracking should have been put towards building nuclear and other sources that do not generate environmentally harmful gases. The government is reneging on its support for solar and wind energy to support fracking - the cheaper - and remember this - temporary option. You are also completely ignoring the fact that it is still uncertain what 'protection' really means in the context. Siting of pumping stations is one thing, but how far the tentacles of the manifold stretches underground is another - the the further they try to go, the less safe the system. Greenpeace are desperate for financial support and are in the business of trying to show how effective they are. True meanings of relevant documents are yet to appear. Be assured that short termism will be applied to the maximum. I am sure all Lancastrians will hope you are happy and well in your cocoon, or pardon me, is it barracks ! Yours, David

e-griff on 03-02-2015
Dynasty reborn?
although I disagree with some of the popular sentiments about fracking that are repeated here, this is a damn good poem! 🙂 And a well-expressed point of view.

Author's Reply:
Coming from you, my friend, a kindly and valued comment. As a fellow engineer I agree that there are some popular sentiments that are expressed in the poem that may prove less dangerous than their 'worst case' might appear, but this poem is for me a mental march through the streets with placards shouting harm in all sorts of directions ! - part of the game. Thank you Griff.....David

Supratik on 04-02-2015
Dynasty reborn?
David! I agree with your comments for Sue... hot story may not be befitting here, but there are expressions which Sue and I have appreciated might also have some place to record as great expressions...somehow I feel there are not enough categories of appreciation, especially for poetry...I may be incorrect, but I guess UKA would have first started with articles, proses, and columns!
Nope I wasn't referring to anything in particular for drawing reference so to speak, I was thinking of 'concern' or its reasons that are universal and or ubiquitous...I am sorry if it hurt your Englishness, ha ha! Yours, Supratik

Author's Reply:

pommer on 04-02-2015
Dynasty reborn?
Well David, I agree with everything that has been said above,it doesn't matter where one lives today, there is always some form of "beneficial development". If it isn't a housing development,it is a wind farm or a field full of solar panels or fracking. What next? Our followers will inherit the same sort of thing we inherited from the past.When we lived in Cornwall, we had capped and uncapped tin mines very close to our property,and many engine houses are now reminders of the exploitation of the land in the past.Progress is inevitable, but I often wish we could still be living in this "green and pleasant land".That's it for today David, A great protest poem.Best wishes, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Dear Peter, many thanks for those sensible words. I still feel that one must make a distinction between the degrees of risk of harm to the public of each enterprise and in so doing be aware of the level of knowledge concerning its possible adverse and beneficial consequences, As both scientist and engineer I am naturally curious and having spent much time working as a product safety consultant I have seen across the world how politics and financial pressures can bring tragedy on a significant scale. Through progressive failure to invest in new power generation sources in the UK, our Government is now desperate to fill looming gaps - the type of situation that generates short cuts and errors of judgement through unforeseen events. Sleep well, I do ...Yours, David.



ValDohren on 05-02-2015
Dynasty reborn?
Brilliant David. Makes one wonder where the rape and pillage of our planet will end. Maybe it will collapse in on itself in course of time. Congrats on the nib, and it's a nom from me, and when it's published in Voices From The Web we need to send a copy to Parliament for them all the read !
Val xxx

Author's Reply:
Oh thank you Val - I feel honoured when such a gift comes from you - who gains perfection in all you write. My best....David


Spare some kindly thoughts (posted on: 30-01-15)
Scientists have said that a million monkeys over a million years could accidentally type the entire works of Shakespeare. Skilled poets who conjure pictures and events should understand that Chance, the greatest poet of all − has probably done it all before. It is just that UKA was not around to print it.

I am the millionth monkey that survived a million years. All of Shakespeare's plays are here, now copied error-free; I typed while I was blindfold to test the Laws of Chance, but who is here to hoist me high, the hero of the hour, the accidental bard who's made a mockery of fame − is there not a soul among you that says ''Welcome to the game?'' The worst of it more difficult by sitting down once more to write and break this news to you - another aeon's passed, but sadly now my tree is dead, there is a creaking sound; I may not finish quick enough before we idthreohntug You may be glad to know that our monkey survived the crash and having replaced the blindfold and never having heard it before, took ten weeks to type the chorus words of the Beatles' song about Love ‒ amazing! The poetic skills of Chance remain unmatched.
Archived comments for Spare some kindly thoughts

No comments archives found!
When and How? (posted on: 30-01-15)
Just two verses - all that needs to be said.

When will the age of failure come, the years we lose our compos mentis, second childhood of the mind, 'gaga' gains a new apprentice? How shall I know my writing's past it? Surely friends will kindly be, for when I think I might outlast it, tell the truth, say ''Go'' to me. David January 2015

Archived comments for When and How?
Mikeverdi on 30-01-2015
When and How?
I'll let you know....keep writing!
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike - writing but waiting. Bless....David

ValDohren on 30-01-2015
When and How?
Not just yet David, give it another week or so !
Val xxx

Author's Reply:
The best offer yet. Supratik wants me to go now so I'd best take your generous life extension and think about what to do in eight days time. I might crawl to Forward poetry - they do print gibberish.
Meantime, my very best wishes... XXX (crawling again) ...David.

Supratik on 31-01-2015
When and How?
Right now David! Good way to connect with the when and the how! Yours, Supratik

Author's Reply:
I am not a religious person, but if I had to follow your instructions, I would prefer at least to have a dozen virgins rather than knowing about the future. I have decided to accept Val's kind offer of another week or so. Bear with me, yours aye...David

Nemo on 01-02-2015
When and How?
Just stick to the diet - that'll keep the gibberish away.
Gerald.

Author's Reply:

pommer on 01-02-2015
When and How?
For goodness sake, don't give up yet.Just keep dishing it up.
There is many a good tune played on an old fiddle as the saying goes.Peter.

Author's Reply:


The Diet. Food 'aint wot it use ter be (posted on: 26-01-15)
As I left the hospital, the ward nurse gave me a diet recommended for those with angry gall stones. Fortunately our Surgery and my wife Meg had other ideas Here is a rhymed version of the nurse's advice.

The diet, now a heavy cloud the ward nurse has hung over me. No butter, cream or milk shall sit upon my plate for fear of it, but radishes can make the day; a loving meal prepared, they say, in rather an unusual way. With water cress they do permit, provided boiled in ginger beer. No bacon, cheese, red meat at all, for that's now put beyond recall. Bread - allowed one slice a day with jam galore to spread agley; save me from the 'fade away'. No green veg may touch my tongue nor fruit of any kind allowed. Mangold wurzels once a week; ditto for a fresh dug beet. Potatoes are my last saloon, a chance to see the next full moon. What hope is left can't come too soon. My poor intestines file complaint, they have the patience of a saint : all food henceforth must now be 'green', no additives or sprays be seen on their way from seed to store guaranteed by Defra's Law − fairy story - heard before ! Where am I now, where can I go? Who will feed me as she says? Is this Sahara, might I think; my famine taken to the brink? Time to visit local pub; sip the stout and lick the grub; all a mirage - there's the rub. How could I gently ask my wife to spend the last years of her life in planting, digging growing stuff until her poor heart's had enough? I think that I had better be a person that is radish-free, beet and wurzels, not for me. David January 2015

Archived comments for The Diet. Food 'aint wot it use ter be
Mikeverdi on 26-01-2015
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
Or me David HaHa! I try but fail on a regular basis. I've been 'Dry for January' that's strain enough on Lesley.
I think we are a bit too far along life's path to give up everything we love. I'm tending lovingly a bottle of Margaux that I intend to drink all to myself when the 1st of February arrives....you know my saying HaHa!
Great writing as always.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Well Mike, I left the footnote to the diet off because it read "Strictly no alcohol" - just in case some idiot my try its recommendations.
Well done for January - great stuff, Margaux, in the best region for Bordeaux wines for calling good friend- the Medoc - please sip a bit for me. Thanks for reading. My very best to you both....David

Andrea on 26-01-2015
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
Get stuck in to the butter and cream, Bozzz!

Author's Reply:
Not only the Devil tempts. Thanks Andrea, sadly moderation is in order - the pain for disobedience is like no other - worse than childbirth but I can't give proof positive. Blessings...David

pommer on 26-01-2015
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
I enjoyed reading this.Having experienced something similar once,I feel for you. I don't like the idea of no alcohol.What does it matter at our age. Bloody spoilsports.Ha Ha.Just going to have a tot.Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Peter. Like you I have never given up my lunchtime glass - of Bordeaux, in my case - straight from the Central Valley in Chile. As long as one does not move from tot to tottering that's what I intend to maintain. Yours aye, David

e-griff on 28-01-2015
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
Tres amusant!



Very good read.



But you know what I'm going to say :-). The first two lines of verse two don't make sense (they are not a sentence or valid phrase)!


It's the 'with' that does not fit. - (but the 'do' is a bit lazy, don't you think?)


And I do think 'agley' is cheating a wee bit 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thank you John for kind and useful comments. The first two lines of verse 2 are a continuation of verse 1, but tradition demanded the full stop between them. Not elegant I agree, but marginally within licence. As to 'agley', sorry mate, but we need to be aware that Scotland is still part of the United Kingdom (or temporary Queendom, as any sensible pedantic would wish). Let us treasure it that way while we can !! Yours aye....David. P.S. Yours aye meaning "yours ever". More cheating? Hope not.





e-griff on 28-01-2015
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
Unusually, I'll come back because there's an important point you seem to be missing, maybe I wasn't clear. 🙂 frankly if I read it as you say, it still is unclear and very confusing.



You may have intended the lines in verse two to read as you say. But readers can't be expected to know that or read your mind. 🙂 I wonder how many readers would -'get'the intention?



The point about 'agley' is that it would indeed be perfectly at home in a poem with some elements of Scottish dialect or setting. but here it is completely isolated, out of context, like a fish out of water. It just appears to be stuffed in to get the rhyme, regardless.

(excuse the copies of this you may get. The site doesn't work properly with tablets and I get multiple postings)

Author's Reply:
You probably get multiple posting because of your impatience in pressing the Post comment box. Be patient - wait for change after one press. It does come. Laptops do not send duplicates on their own.

As to 'agley', perhaps you do not read as widely as most in the poetic community? In any case the meaning is obvious.

As to the link between verses 1 and 2, most people use logic when they read a poem. Perhaps a comma instead of a full stop would be in order. End of this conversation. David

e-griff on 28-01-2015
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
Hmm. FYI,

The site has known problems with tablets.

Of course I know what agley means.



(Promise no more comment.broke my own rules. Damn!)





Author's Reply:
Griff, I have now decided to go public again on your crits of this poem, neither of which now appear to have substance.

You criticised initially that the first two lines of the second verse do not make sense. That is now seen to be incorrect. When I said that they should be read together with last lines of verse one, you criticised that this was not obvious to the reader. Again you were incorrect - I see now that each pair of lines makes sense on their own. Although the pairs can be read together, that is not necessary to make sense of the poem.

Thirdly you claimed the word “agley” was out of context ('cheating' was your word) and should only be used in the company of a Scottish poem. Frankly Griff that was nonsense. All languages absorb words from other tongues. If one is found to be apt and becomes used to fulfil a good purpose, that is how all languages develop.
You implied that few would understand it, but when I asked you if you understood it, you exploded “of course I understand it”. Perhaps you did not realise the implications of what you were saying – ‘Of course I understand it', but you had already implied that the rest of the world will not.’ Tut tut.
Stay calm and keep working. Yours aye, David

sweetwater on 29-01-2015
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
Oh dear, not a lot of excitement in the diet is there 🙁 I eat a lot of salads with watercress, ( which is how I read the first two lines of second verse) but not boiled in ginger beer thankfully. Give it a while and some dietitian will say the opposite, it always happens. Really enjoyed the poem, great fun to read, not to endure. Good luck! Sue xx

Author's Reply:
Thank you Sue. It was a real horror when I got home and we opened and read it. "You will be dead within six months' was my wife's comment. Ah well, as Andrea sugests, 'Back to the butter and cream' - in moderation of course. Salutations....David

Gothicman on 29-01-2015
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
Very dry, David, but not lacking in nutrients! Like your "horror" genre! Love the lead-in and the whole content. When working temporarily at Växjö Lasarette at the millennium shift, they had just finished equipping a complex health check lab, and I volunteered for fun to take all the tests allowing them to check all the equipment: the result two A4 pages with all the arrows pointing up! I suggested it was because of my sexual prowess, but they said good was horizontal, and that I had in fact died, but that it hadn't reached the outside yet! Hahaha! Tough on you, mate, but gall stones must be pacified! I stick to a low-purine diet to counter joint-stiffness, we all have our begging bowls to fill! Hahaha! Eat a lot of those delicious local free-range eggs, washed down with Port, that'll do you good! Commiserations!
Skilled poem (as expected), great fun read!
Trevor

Author's Reply:
Well Trevor, that was a risk - virtual bravery perhaps. Interesting the arrows pointed upwards - though dead, at least your virtual destination was heavenward - great story yet untold in poetic form ! I have held my stones quiet for 30 years - let sleeping dogs lie. Thanks for kind comment Yours aye, David

e-griff on 29-01-2015
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
The purpose of critique is to inform the author what the reader thinks. The author is free to accept or reject comments, and I often make that clear. It is particularly pointless to argue with a commenter or keep insisting you are 'right'. My opinion has not changed, I read the poem as it is, not how you may have intended it to be. You are absolutely entitled to ignore my comments completely if you wish.
As I said above, I broke my own rule by being drawn into your discussion. That will teach me a lesson.
Anyway, matter closed for me,no angst.

Author's Reply:

e-griff on 29-01-2015
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
The purpose of critique is to inform the author what the reader thinks. The author is free to accept or reject comments, and I often make that clear. It is particularly pointless to argue with a commenter or keep insisting you are 'right'. My opinion has not changed, I read the poem as it is, not how you may have intended it to be. You are absolutely entitled to ignore my comments completely if you wish.


As I said above, I broke my own rule by being drawn into your discussion. That will teach me a lesson.


Anyway, matter closed for me,no angst.



Oh, ps. There is a 'comments only' category if you are more comfortable with that. Several people use it, and I was involved in making it available as there is little point in critiquing if it upsets the author.

Author's Reply:
Agreed no angst.
Still concerned about your tablet problem. Willing to help.
If you have been using your finger to touch the 'post comment' pad, suggest experiment with use of prod stick.
David

Mikeverdi on 29-01-2015
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
Or there is a facility to BLOCK anyone that offends and generally pisses you off 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike, I would not wish to go that far. Anyway, in my understanding the block was intended only to apply to messages not comments. Perhaps I am wrong. As you might guess there have been fierce words via messages as well. Griff seems reluctant to take on board anything technical and has it all wrong about the site being responsible for the multiple postings of tablet generated comments - but I have not pressed such points. Evidence I see is that the site is doing fine - faithfully responding to all posting inputs. As I was for many years the BSI's UK leading expert on electronic assemblies at international meetings - I could probably help. At the moment my view is that the faults lie with the touch screens and methods used to tap the small onscreen pads. On occasions when mechanical keyboards and mice can can cause multiple sendings, there are different reasons. Normally faults are always at the transmitting end of the link.

Nemo on 29-01-2015
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
All the above comments make entertaining reading - so many comments, David, and I consider myself lucky if I get one. A cleverly composed poem. I almost feel inspired to write about my wife's replacement knee.

Gerald

Author's Reply:

Supratik on 26-03-2016
The Diet. Food ‘aint wot it use ter be
I can't forgive myself for having missed this one!! This is genius and is sitting without a nib? I have been thoroughly entertained by the spirit of the poem. Let health be yours my friend. Supratik

Author's Reply:


Lukewarmism (posted on: 23-01-15)
Matt Ridley, scientist and writer has invented a new term to describe his confusion on global warming and climate change Lukewarmism : Rule 1. When in doubt, resort to rhyming couplets

Sun neither hot nor cold shall be by time the earth can bury me for scattered are my powdered bones on woodland ground, not mourning zones. Then wind shall spread me far and wide to forests where no men abide. The trees will live where ghosts may prosper, need my salts the phates of phosphor. Come climate change, let weather falter, cross my path to nature's altar, I'll not ring denier's bell, those roasting fools will burn in hell. Nor do I preach impending doom for science in heaven, there's no room, but somewhere in between must be the lukewarm man's true destiny. Cloud level five where cuckoos thrive will keep the in-betweens alive, for that is where confusion reigns, the home for indecisive brains. David January 2015
Archived comments for Lukewarmism
Gothicman on 23-01-2015
Lukewarmism
Lukewarmism, what a clever descriptive phrase, David, and we'll never find the thimble while economic interests steer all politics and environmental decisions; the out of sight, out of mind mentality, mass destruction of the ecological balance not being consistently noticeable, but nevertheless on an accelerating downward negative curve, or is it? Even experts disagree! A fine poem displaying your excellent penmanship and word craft again.
Trevor

Author's Reply:
Thanks Trevor for kind words. Climate change and energy are interrelated issues, but we are dealing with a capitalist system and a rich/poor gap that is steadily driving the world’s finances to a standstill. Bearing in mind the sluggish response of politicians and investors to scientific arguments that exists today, anything that will persuade them to pull back from going all out for new alternative energy resources is causing harm. Sadly Ridley is doing just that. Climate matters can wait longer than the energy problem and for the benefit of mankind, a period of silence among 'lukewarmists' is in order. I wrote thus to him personally and to the Times opinion column....David

stormwolf on 24-01-2015
Lukewarmism
David, the first stanza spoke so powerfully for me. I totally agree. Post death bliss.
The poem can be read in different way (to my thinking)
Never lukewarm, I am consigned to somewhere that's for sure but the woods and the wind will suit me fine.

Alison xxx
ps well done on the nib

Author's Reply:
Alison, you are quite right about the poem being read two ways, there are two stories. You and I tucked away among the wooded glades and the Lukewarmers sitting indecisively in the clouds waiting in the queues for pearly gates entry. See my response to Trevor's comment. The Nib, well there's a pleasant surprise - thank you - all.....David

Mikeverdi on 25-01-2015
Lukewarmism
You at your very best David. congrats on the well deserved Nib, it clearly needs a Nom to go with it!
Mike

Author's Reply:
Well many thanks Mike for the Nom - one day you must tell me exactly what they both mean Nib and Nom- for although I have used Nom on a few fellow poets' work and think I know, not dead sure. Yours, David

pommer on 25-01-2015
Lukewarmism
Congratulations, a well deserved nib on this very best of poems. Best wishes,Peter.

Author's Reply:
Thank you so much Peter, my appreciation of your kind words. Funny how a poem one composes very quickly can sometimes turn out better than many over which one has laboured long. Best wishes, David


A ditty for the election (posted on: 19-01-15)
What are big politicians made of? Some tight doggerel for dirt

Blogs and rails, unlikely tales, cheating and lying to wit. Brains that are flexible, tongues that are forked for digging the dirtiest shit. Once they're elected the charm's resurrected the promises thrown in the ditch. Excuses excuses the party's effusive, Europe's to blame is the pitch. We cannot raise wages for ages and ages. the task is to kill the deficit. Our benefit cuts mean less tax for the rich, ''All in it together'' implicit. The NHS ring-fenced but still in the red, all promise their pleas will be heeded, but broke Social Service can't come to their aid to unblock a bed when it's needed. Recession is over? - life now in clover? the rich-poor divide high for good. Whoever gets in, the dose is the same, be the spoons made of silver or wood David January 2015

Archived comments for A ditty for the election
Mikeverdi on 19-01-2015
A ditty for the election
Yep....that's about it David 🙂 First class writing as always.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Sorry I could not resist a dig or two at your party friends. Just a fun rail actually.
My thanks for support...David

ValDohren on 19-01-2015
A ditty for the election
Very clever writing David, and right on the mark.
Val xx

Author's Reply:
Well thank you Val, but I am not sure it would even qualify as doggerel - ranterel perhaps. Still reeling from your own magnificent poem.....Great....David

sweetwater on 19-01-2015
A ditty for the election
So many lies, false promises, and dubious tricks along the way once they're in. Up comes an election and along with it the smarm and slimy charm. Your brilliant and clever words say it all. Sue.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Sue. It was really written just to help me recover from a headache - perhaps it shows through. In fun, yours, David

pommer on 19-01-2015
A ditty for the election
Great David. Well you know we agree on all of this.Whatever they do, there will always be a scapegoat.It is all the elderlies fault that the beds are blocked, shouldn't live so long. Can't win. Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Well of course you are right Peter. But the Government tells us to eat lots of sprouts and fruit as kids so that we can live to a hundred, then complains when we do so. Nothing that a few world wars won't put right - God forbid. Thanks for comment - yours, David

Nemo on 22-01-2015
A ditty for the election
The poet is mightier than the politician. If only. Perhaps.
Enjoyed.
Gerald.

Author's Reply:
Sadly, 'If' says it all
Thanks Gerald, yours, David


To fall among among leaves (posted on: 16-01-15)
A venture into Val-Sue territory. Leaves are like plug in memories that store stolen messages of love. Better to fall among leaves than thieves? Or is it? What is stolen with their encouragement?

Living leaves are whisperers each puff of breeze sends messages of love from leaf to leaf to twig from twig to twig to branch and thence to earth. Dying leaves fall full of hope, a job well done. Sap to air evaporates, but secrets live in sun. Dead leaves are memories, nature's bed for love's lust stored to urge the lover's quest ''Stay not to rest but do your best while you are 'blest'; make love'', they said and so we did. David January 2015

Archived comments for To fall among among leaves
Mikeverdi on 16-01-2015
To fall among among leaves
This looks like 'new territory' for you David...I like it! On the crit side I would swop 'Live' for living...but that's just me again 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thank you Mike, "Living" it shall be. What is an extra syllable between friends? New territory it is - and probably I will be punished and rightly so - trespassing. Yrs, David

pommer on 16-01-2015
To fall among among leaves
I agree with Mike, I like it.Perhaps we shall see more of its kind. Best wishes, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Peter, but I do feel a bit like Russia invading the Crimea in the Ukraine. Naughty boy - bottom smacked. Withdraw immediately - stick to rants. Leave leaves to Eves. Cheers friend..David.

sweetwater on 16-01-2015
To fall among among leaves
Like the edit to living, it does run more easily. Especially enjoyed the 'dead leaves are memories' line, but all of the poem was a unique viewpoint on this subject. Sue x

Author's Reply:
Thank you Sue, I do agree. Evaporate is not a polite word to use in lyrical quarters. Where we live was once a forest where King John rode hunting - now the trees are gone it is bare fields and cattle. A legacy of deforestation is flooding - trees absorb 25% of what falls as rain around them and evaporate it back into the atmosphere - so we are left awash like the Somerset levels. It's the farmers wot dun it. Apols for Geo lesson. Blessings, David.

ValDohren on 16-01-2015
To fall among among leaves
Makes a change from the rants David. Quite lovely.
Val xxx

Author's Reply:
Hi Val, as I mentioned in replying to Sue, in our area, no trees=flooded land. Not the same as your water problem in the Netherlands. There now, at a stroke I have converted a natural idyll into a rant - beat that. Many thanks for visiting the new English county of Rantland !! - much love...David

Nemo on 17-01-2015
To fall among among leaves
Ah, David! An Arcadian idyll - just the sort of thing The Liverpool Echo are requesting for their 'Culture Corner' now the docks have gone. Or maybe try the Casterbridge Chronicle. There's always the Harrogate Herald as long as you change 'but secrets live in sun' to 'but secrets live in t'sun.' Let me know how you get on, best wishes, Gerald.

Author's Reply:
Your comment much enjoyed. But t'sun took me further East than Essex to China - you are worse than Griff on grammar ! And also, Mike would accuse me of trying to smuggle in an extra word without it being noticed - Catch 22. Anyway, what on earth is a Puddlian doing in Essex - the other flat land. Me? - Surviving - thanks - Yours, David.

Gothicman on 17-01-2015
To fall among among leaves
A beautiful poem David, revealing emotion and love of Nature; not sure though about the four lines with end rhyme; internal rhyme and free-verse work well, but to my mind (probably only) a lowering of aesthetics just here! Your expertise with rhyme is a given on past submissions, but even so, wish you would venture more into this form, which you obviously have an equal talent for, and add another more personal dimension to the messaging. Am I suffering from collective pressure if not pointing out the double "among" in the heading, or am I completely out of touch with modern colloquialism? Anyway, for me, a fine fresh change using your excellent word craft.
Friend Trevor

Author's Reply:
Yes Trevor, I fell among rhymes not leaves perhaps? Tainted the tone? Thanks, I Will have another go before reading it in our village poetry group on Monday. "Among" amamus amat, well the thieves thought came well after I had posted and to be honest I did not spot the repeat, but they are in different contexts and sited on different parts of the page, so will forgive myself. Man, you have me to a tee, but then so you should - we share such niceties. Many thanks for your input...David

e-griff on 18-01-2015
To fall among among leaves
I like the theme here, and most of the execution. Two things threw me: the odd rhymes (not including the second verse or the end rhyme). I also found lines 2&3 of the last verse difficult to read, or say. There is underlying rhythm in this poem and these don't fit, IMO.

Author's Reply:
Thank you. You are quite right - Trevor pointed out the problem too. The last verse has been completely rewritten to remove the offending rhyming, but I have decided not to repost it for now. Bit of an experiment really.
Thanks again....David


Seven shades of writer on this site (posted on: 12-01-15)
Mirror, mirror on the screen, Find a slot in which youre seen. tho many operate between.

Those who understand our worldly life, can mock the devilry and furtive fight, view the tunnel and an end in sight, seek practical in politics, not strife. Folk who choose to look away instead, rejoice in abstract poesies and song; prefer to write of love or love that's gone; the healing of the mind for times ahead. Some write as though all dote upon their lines, imagine praise in what the world will say. Sit cosy in a self-important way; conceit that's happy in its own confines. Others who find solace in their woes, expressing mental mores that lie within, that friends may know the sorry state they're in, the pain that lingers longer never goes. Some compose in prim and powerful hand, that deigns to grace the site with words obscure, stand tiptoed, waiting − pending pride and pure with text that only they best understand. Or humour pen the teasing of mankind, some doggerel to warm the baser heart, bring words that tear life's tedium apart with lines that conjure laughter state of mind. The traveller's tales that bring us other lives, of flavours, fools and mysteries elsewhere we may not have the time or cash to share, but show us what our fellow man contrives. Mixed bag they be of rocks and chocs on show, tho' some are clearly milk and some are plain, the fillings unpredictable remain. Hard and soft, sweet and sour, to go. We may rejoice in poetry for fun; can crit' and croak our prejudice on call, torn between the honest and the care, pray better things can come to one and all; to experts, yes and those who've just begun. David January 2015
Archived comments for Seven shades of writer on this site
Mikeverdi on 12-01-2015
Seven shades of writer on this site
Wonderful David, A look at poets,poetry and writers... through the eyes of a man who can.]
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks for calling Mike, I was in some doubt about this one as you know, but no explosions so far. I did soften it a bit since you first saw it - perhaps too much ?!! Cheers...David

sweetwater on 15-01-2015
Seven shades of writer on this site
I think you have summed us all up in an honest and humorous way. Every one of us will relate to something written here. Brilliant, insightful write. Sue.

Author's Reply:
Well Dear Sue, a summary it is - though I hope good-natured when chiding. Yet the piece itself is open to crit for being a touch 'laundrylistic'- if you follow me. But if it was indeed your illustrious pen that pushed the Nomination button - my very deepest thanks for that honour. Very kind XXX...David

Gothicman on 15-01-2015
Seven shades of writer on this site
Yes, I'm afraid like Sue, I had my hand up high, or hesitatingly at half-height, to all these pathetic poet types! Hahaha! Mine a mixed bag of crocks and firewood I shamefully admit. I have always thought though the content messaging is greater than the quality of rhyme and meter, for above all we need to connect with the reader, say something that awakens latent thoughts and keeps them active. Both is best of course, so thank goodness we have Gerald and Keith! Hahaha! No, I love the skill and rendition of your poetry, always topical, never boring, and always a treat to read. It's all evidence of your wiseness, and years of writing technical reports to keep patents exclusive! Great poem, David, sums up most approaches! Fun to read.
Trevor

Author's Reply:
Strange you should mention the patents scene, I have a rusting filing cabinet drawer in the garage full of them. As ever, one's best scams never see the light of day - short grass that never needs mowing - when viewed through special spectacles. You seem in good form as ever and I count myself lucky to be a recipient of your very kind words - straight from Nordic snows. Thank you Trevor.

Nemo on 16-01-2015
Seven shades of writer on this site
Sorry I missed this earlier and now I wish I hadn't read it: I'm reeling in shock and awe at the technical brilliance you've displayed, David. Not one with the skill or patience to rhyme, I usually find those who rhyme tend to distort word order or bend meaning to get the rhyme in place, but not you. This is gently hurtful and suitably cap-fits. I go for months, sometimes years, waiting for a poem to come along. You seem to ooze poésie sans effort. ('..deigns to grace the site with words obscure ...') Thanks for sharing, Gerald.

Author's Reply:
Apologies for delayed response. That's kind of you, Gerald but ooze squeezes quality to make patchwork.
What you write has natural beauty and depth and yes, that takes time. Yours, David

Ionicus on 18-01-2015
Seven shades of writer on this site
Very good David, but you could add an eigth shade: writers who cannot spell. Odd how they go undetected!
Best, Luigi

Author's Reply:
Hi Luigi, 'eighth' shade detected at last - very clever. Thanks, David

Savvi on 21-01-2015
Seven shades of writer on this site
Damn I was expecting sex....I suppose I will have to settle for excellent oral...Matron. Bloody brilliant Bozzz all the plaudits well deserved and more...were can I by grass you don't have to cut 🙂 Keep em coming. Best Keith

Author's Reply:
Aha Keith. Unusual for me to forget sex as I am not above such capers. Many thanks - I will have to remedy the omission somehow later on. Re grass, the seeds are free, the special glasses are £500. I thought I had sold the patent to a lawnmower manufacturer, but his cheque was as dud as my special glasses. Cheers my friend, David


Survival of the luckiest (posted on: 09-01-15)
The Darwinian term "Survival of the fittest" has less significance to day. There are too many new ways of being killed accidentally - almost all of them man-made.

Survival of the luckiest Sadly today there are many more ways of meeting an untimely end than there were a millennium ago. Wolves and the Romans have gone, but now we have lethal cars, planes, trains, cigarettes, cocaine, weapons of mass destruction, piped gas and mains electricity - to name but a few. All man-made, please note. This increase in the number of sources of unexpected early demise has not changed most people's view on the validity or otherwise of Darwin's theory of evolution, but it has eroded the ubiquity of the concept of 'Survival of the fittest'. If we add environmental disasters like earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, drought, plague, global warming and collision with a large asteroid to the hazard list, natural selection no longer has pride of place in the 'how to exist' spectrum for the human race. Taking theory nearer to reality, we see evidence of the change in a variety of ascending ways. On a personal level, in 1972 I had a sudden attack of lumbago when about to climb into my car to drive to Heathrow. It stopped me catching the Sunday afternoon plane to Brussels that crashed on take-off, killing all aboard. I could argue that lack of fitness saved my life, but the truth is that I was just lucky. In the 'it depends where you live', situation, the postcode lottery in quality of schooling and medical treatment are typical local community variations. Sometimes they bring life and death issues. Within an extended landscape, the moral integrity of the media and politicians in a country can determine the well-being or killing of a large proportion of its inhabitants. And finally on a global scale, the future of some large population groups will progressively hinge upon the height of their land or the amount of rain water and energy resource available there. What we are now seeing for mankind is that staying alive has become increasingly dependent on not being in the wrong place at the wrong time. 'Survival of the fittest', is and has always been but a mere fraction of the whole truth about our existence. Survival of the luckiest', is now that whole. David Boswell. Tarrant Gunville 2015
Archived comments for Survival of the luckiest
Mikeverdi on 09-01-2015
Survival of the luckiest
That is SO GOOD David, I'm not sure how the nomination for this kind of prose works... but consider it done old friend.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks a million Mike - I am still suffering post traumatic stress after the op - your action much appreciated - just what the ordered but cannot do. I am told that hands ops are like that, but I do have full movement and no nerves cut thank goodness - brilliant foreign surgeon and I was conscious throughout. NHS were great in the end. All within an hour of arrival at hospital. But it may not be over yet..... Your aye good friend....David

pommer on 09-01-2015
Survival of the luckiest
How very true David,Peter.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Peter - am a bit under the cosh at the moment after op on left hand. Mike knows basically what happened. NHS GP etc were at first awful, but later when they realised the problem, magnicent.
Yours and thanks, my good friend.... David

ValDohren on 09-01-2015
Survival of the luckiest
Sorry to learn about your hand David, hope you will soon be fully recovered. As for the write, yes this is very true - luck certainly does come into the equasion. I, having been born on the 13th perhaps, am not bestowed with good luck, so guess I hd better watch out - here today, gone tomorrow !
Val xx

Author's Reply:
hi val, i do not think chance takes any notice of superstitions, so you will be no worse off than any of the rest of us - be reassured. thank you for the read and response. beard threatening and hand improving thank you...yours, david.

sweetwater on 09-01-2015
Survival of the luckiest
Terrific read, absolutely true, however on the other side of the coin how would the planet cope if we didn't meet disaster in one form or another to regulate our population ( I've always wondered about that) survival of the fittest worked until too many became very fit, now more drastic measures have been devised, mainly man made as you say.
Good luck with your poor hand and the operation aftermath. Sue xx.

Author's Reply:
You make a good point, Sue. I wonder if the ultimate population control is food supply caused by natural phenomena - climate, earthquake and disease? Hand showing good signs painwise - thank you and for the great comment...Cyber hug if I could...XXX Yours, David

Supratik on 14-01-2015
Survival of the luckiest
My admiration for your succinct rendition remains as I wish you to be lucky always, all the time. An article that sets the tone of seriousness from 'please note' and goes with a touch of humour so characteristic of David down till those two last words 'that whole' is worth reading every bit. Talking about Darwin, Deepak Chopra, a specialist in the art of healing, says more or less the same thing; but instead of 'luckiest' says 'wisest'. Well wise or lucky I don't know...for me as long as you are there fighting your own battle, you are a survivor. I would borrow Sue's word and say it's a terrific read! Best. Supratik

Author's Reply:
My good friend and fellow philosopher, thank you. I had heard of Chopra, I think when I was in India, but not in this context. Yet surely there is a world of difference between wisdom and chance - unless wisdom includes ability to forecast the unpredictable !! Re-reading the piece today after Paris, I am tempted to add terrorists as yet another man-made source, though maybe they are just animals like wolves. Sincere thanks again for your comment....Best wishes, David

Supratik on 14-01-2015
Survival of the luckiest
David! I have written an article called Passion for Peace which is waiting to be posted. It is written in running style. I am sorry to hear about your recent trip to Paris, I can imagine what you have gone through. Allow me please to disagree on your comparison...animals and wolves are innocent and predictably lovable and or dangerous as the case may be. However, I can well imagine the ailing heart it came from.

Author's Reply:
Yes I agree that animals can be natural cause of death as in Roman times, but if in describing a terrorist as an animal, does that mean his actions are then forgivable? i did use the word 'msybe' on this question. Cheers. David


The dirty tramp (posted on: 05-01-15)
Mankind are the only animals that bring me to their homes All the rest are still content to bring themselves to me. Revised version with thanks to Mike.

Come listen to the dripping tap each drop a tale to tell − evaporates from wave to air to cloud and then he fell, thence to field and river bed, the wend and wind to sea, born again in water world, the droplet's destiny. That was nature's habitat, now different problems loom en route to you my drop collects your particles of doom; sulphur, carbon and the rest from factories arise; They offered me a PhD or is it just pH they says it's my 'hacidity' without a spoken aitch. Whatever, it don't suit my style, no thanks, I'd rather not. 'Acid rain' they call me, watch my pH number spot. My gift to man, another plan, a discipline for now; forced to land on reservoirs, behave as they allow. Go mix with nasty chemicals at mercy of mankind, come chlorine, fluorine additives. and liquids of the kind. Then filter me as fit to drink, what bloody cheek they've got. They fill me full of poisons then, complain about the grot, but sell me to their customers as purity itself. yet treat me like a dirty tramp; the source of all their wealth ! Shove me down a plastic pipe beneath the potholed roads, from ditch to kitchen forced to flow, six Bar from tap explodes ! No wonder there's a tiny drip when ageing washers tire − the only chance we get to chat, as 'man to men' desire. David January 2015

Archived comments for The dirty tramp
Mikeverdi on 06-01-2015
The dirty tramp
That's just brilliant David. I could never write as you do, I think you could concoct a rhyme about anything. I have often said you are the conscience of the site; I still think it's true.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Well friend Mike, it is thanks to you for suggesting amendment of the first verse. As to conscience, there is some pleasure to be had in poking fun at the oddities of life in general - always one hopes in the nicest possible manner - sometimes. My thanks too for your kind comment. Yours aye, David.

ValDohren on 06-01-2015
The dirty tramp
Agree with Mike, you're a one-off David. Great poem.
Val xx

Author's Reply:
From you, Val, who will always write in perfect rhyme and meter, much appreciated - thanks so much for that....yours, David

sweetwater on 08-01-2015
The dirty tramp
I don't know how someone can feel sad for a drop of water, but you have done just that to me. Makes one really think about our most precious commodity. Brilliant poem. Sue.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Sue, you have given me some brightness for to day. Have had an operation on my hand 2 days ago and am suffering delayed shock. Sincere thanks. David


Mountains out of molehills (posted on: 02-01-15)
Almost a modern nursery rhyme She wants to turn the kitchen into a bedroom

It is in nature's role for me that mountains out of molehills be, each smallest thing that people ask I prove impossible - the task. Firstly, think of all the mess the work will make and hence will cause disturbance to your menopause, too many jobs bring mental stress. Next there's all the holes to fill, to repaint this, remove your tat, take cables 'cross the window sill; new laws will stop me doing that. Then Sod decides to interfere there's three more things to be done first each of them the very worst to undertake this time of year. And look, when curtains wide are drawn we cannot see the neighbour's lawn. Our kitchen can't a bedroom be, Prince Charles would say ''Monstrosity''. So maybe we should sell the house and let you find a different grouse. or leave things now and let them be while you go make a cup of tea. ____________________________ Meantime god will have a sight, note my rhyming is awry, the poem's non-grammatic plight; so help me, not another try. David January 2015
Archived comments for Mountains out of molehills
ValDohren on 02-01-2015
Mountains out of molehills
Have you had a menopause then David - interesting !!
Val x


Author's Reply:
Actually it was the unidentified 'she' who's menopause I was referring to, not mine. But, to tell the truth, I do have one most mornings between my cup of tea and the probiotic. Best to get them over and done with early in the day ! Thanks Val, Yrs David

pommer on 02-01-2015
Mountains out of molehills
I would have thought the menopause is long past.Are you sure it is not the grumpiness of an old codger,like me? Enjoyed reading this anyway. Peter.

Author's Reply:
I think Val awarded me the menopause rather than the implied spouse to whom the discomfort was suggested in the poem. But read the guilt admission in my reply to Val. Thanks - I will make do with the word 'grumpiness' for now. Yours, David.

sweetwater on 04-01-2015
Mountains out of molehills
To this I can relate, decide what needs to be done, think of all the things that will get in the way. Then walk the dog instead, have a cup of tea and do the rest another day!


A realistic fun read, :-)) Sue.

Author's Reply:
At last there is a fellow postponing expert on site. Bless you Sue, your company is the best New Year gift I can conceive. Love and thanks for comment.

Mikeverdi on 04-01-2015
Mountains out of molehills
Oh dear David, life is hard and then you die...why make it harder with all that DIY. When ever I am asked to do these things, I just say... do it yourself!
Mike

Author's Reply:
Your point about DIY reminds me of the two elderly joggers - one drops dead by the roadside. As a policeman approaches, the alive one says to him "What way to go - in the peak of fitness". Ah well - all my best to you Mike.Thank you. David


The day I lost my name (posted on: 29-12-14)
The biggest and quickest 'Put down of my year.

I thought my name was David Bozzz, well it was until I went to Christmas lunch with Hinton bunch. Their village hall, immaculate, looking great. There's Nellie at the door, she smiled, I was beguiled. ''Your name is not down on my list'' "You must have missed," ''Look for yourself − it is not there''. I did not dare. Disconsolate, ''Then can you see, it's Meg's maybe''? ''Ah yes I have it here well done, it's Meg + 1''. So One's is now my name for ever. Put down − clever. Feminism at its best, I rest. Old engineer a trifle late, now numerate, a gift from Santa Claus? - hereafter, mocking laughter. David December 2014

Archived comments for The day I lost my name
Mikeverdi on 29-12-2014
The day I lost my name
HaHaHa! all men have suffered that one David.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Well some who did not know her might think Meg was pregnant. Certainly when my son Simon married Dorothy (Dot for short), but they had to go for in-vitro then when it was known that the baby was safe in the womb, she become part of the metric system - "Dot and carry one.".
Who knows what can happen when these trick are played on mere men. Anyway, My thanks, Mike

pommer on 29-12-2014
The day I lost my name
Enjoyed this one David,that is feminism at its best.Peter.

Author's Reply:
Hello Peter. 'Creative accounting' is what I would call it. Glad it amused you. Take care tonight, and if you do wish to drink your age, make sure it is in millilitres. My best wishes...David

sweetwater on 30-12-2014
The day I lost my name
Better to be a plus than a minus 🙂 Enjoyed the fun and flow of this poem. Sue x

Author's Reply:
Oh Sue, I have just been told that the plus sign belongs to Meg, not me. The cruelty of life.
Many thanks for commenting. In friendship, David

ValDohren on 30-12-2014
The day I lost my name
I'd be happy to be number 1 for a change David, better than being bottom of the pile. Great poem, very novel as ever.
Happy New Year.
Val

Author's Reply:
Hi Val, well yes you have a point, but it all depends on the nature of the pile. A list of rogues perhaps? Stay strong....yours, David

Nemo on 31-12-2014
The day I lost my name
I enjoyed this, David.
Gerald

Author's Reply:
The enjoyment of a friend is a big reward. Thank you, David


Congratulations. You have just survived : (posted on: 26-12-14)
The most clich-laden day of the year on TV

Happy Christmas Reviews of royals - annus triviatous. Gross gyrations by very strict nobodies. Dreary cum optimistic messages from Queen and Pope. The Army celebration somewhere East in Camp Nowhere protecting vital interests in Coronation Street. Dead jokes from elderly comics, jobs for boys. Unstoppable chatter of vain TV cooks. A&E at Downton Abbey. Almost forgot - somebody murdered somewhere, foul play suspected. 10 million turkeys murdered in massacre, eaten by semi-religious fanatics, fowl play confirmed. You? Happy Christmas. David Xmas Day 2014
Archived comments for Congratulations. You have just survived :
pommer on 27-12-2014
Congratulations. You have just survived :
Fowl play indeed.No wonder we all get sloshed after all that overload of nonsense.Never mind David it will happen again at Easter.Looking forward to it already. Happy New Year David, Peter. (Just rushing off to Albert Square now the Queen Vic has been smashed up.) Ha,Ha.

Author's Reply:
Well thank you Peter, comments these days are as rare as turkeys after Xmas - whole ones, that is.
And yes, you are right, we must stock up on Easter Eggs right away. Actually I think the next poetic spree is for Mr Valentine and his conquests we might have hoped to emulate. Cheers, I raise a glass to you and your family, my friend ...David


Death of a tourist (posted on: 26-12-14)
An unnamed, presumed elderly tourist, meets both love and an unfortunate end. Basic doggerel for a difficult journey. Yes they are all rivers.

With her went on Derwent, had sex on the Exe, felt his power on the Stour, went craven on Avon, ran dry on the Wye. Got booze on the Ouse, but lament on the Trent, Took tea on the Lea and was seen on the Nene. Drank wine on the Tyne, got a cure from the Ure, then nibbled the Dribble, Red jersey on Mersey. At ease on the Tees. Caught a corfe on the Wharfe, but his phlegms on the Thames meant bed way on Medway, to slumber on Humber. Fell apart on the Cart, but died on the Clyde, away on the Tay, to Hell via Oykel or Heaven via Severn. They're tolling a bell. David Xmas Day 2014

Archived comments for Death of a tourist
pommer on 27-12-2014
Death of a tourist
Like it David.A wonderful lecture on the rivers of this land,wonderfully composed.Happy New Year, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Peter, you were first on the site to venture a comment this time - or maybe the only man left standing after Xmas. Anyway, my thanks and you deserve a medal for bravery.. my best and a great New Year to you too ....David

sweetwater on 28-12-2014
Death of a tourist
To you fair play, but to my dismay, you failed this day, no mention of Wey. Sorry, I was brought up near the river Wey, had to mention it. Great poem, fun read. Sue.xx

Author's Reply:
Oh Dear, oh dear, Calloo Calley, what can I sey, forgot the Wey, can only prey, another dey.
To be PC I had to give Scotland a fair do with the Tay.
Bless you Sue and with my apologies please accept my best wishes for the New Year.... Love and XXX...David - but where is the cyber mistletoe?


The green belt, relief from Greek gods. (posted on: 19-12-14)
Since none die in Heaven, presumably Greek gods are still around. If, up there, martyrs and virgins can have orgasms, it is reasonable to presume that gods and others can pee. Since Heaven is only just above clouds, gravity should still apply.

In England rain, the currency of love, our greenest hills exchange its kiss for grass, the sacred source of life from those above whose nectar in relief they come to pass. Not just them, but heaven's folk like us, for all have earth in mind for tender care. Thou shalt not die of drought, so do not fuss when climate change brings raindrops through the air. The water deluge thumps at kitchen door. ''May I come in and say hello to all''? Remember well where he has been before, for even Greek gods answer nature's call. Last Christmas morn, we never heard the knock, asleep in bed, descend to find him deep and paddle through the tide at seven o'clock, a breakfast visit, not a friendly creep. Hello old pal, come join us in a cuppa, now don't you think you've crept a tad too far! This time, if you're not gone by supper, our Bulgar friends will make you clean the car. A foot deep now, we'd better switch off mains, the visitor has said he wants to stay. The Council has not cleared the roadside drains, our powerless pumps can't help him on his way. Loud bangs upon the front door who is there? A boat it is - evacuate make haste. Climbing through the window from a chair, no time to make the best of you look chaste. So drown aggressors, save the grass, their plan; Heaven's way to keep our pastures green. What they relieve, held fit for us to drink ! It seems the gods have no kind thoughts for man, a situation not in prayer foreseen. David December 2014
Archived comments for The green belt, relief from Greek gods.
e-griff on 19-12-2014
The green belt, relief from Greek gods.
Nice thought, clever poem. Enjoyable read. Two small comments however. First two lines:surely there should be a comma after 'rain' but (it may be me) I can't work out the grammar.

What did really puzzle me is the line 'the visitor is saying he wants to stay', which doesn't fit for me, though I've tried saying it several ways.


Author's Reply:
Hi John, Thanks indeed for kind comments. In my reading of the first line the comma is there where it should be, so I am puzzled by your remark. Re the other line you mention, I think the natural pentameter beat is correct "The vis - itor - is saying - he wants - to stay". I agree it is possible to give it four beats - if you try hard enough!! Guess we are all made different Cheers and many thanks.....David

Ionicus on 19-12-2014
The green belt, relief from Greek gods.
A good rant, David. Very eloquently expressed, but isn't the Greek nation suffering enough without blaming their gods? I am sure that we can find a domestic scapegoat for our ills.
But I sympathise with your predicament.
Yours, Luigi

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi, Of course I did consider using Roman gods for scapegoatery, but out of consideration for my friends (yourself among them) and my son's future career, I fell back on the earlier team. The idea of suggesting current domestic persona as being capable of such behaviour with modern loos and sewage plants available is technically unthinkable - non-PC. Besides, with only one god now available, the basic concept of enough to make rain is doubtful. Greetings and thanks.....David

e-griff on 20-12-2014
The green belt, relief from Greek gods.
Sorry, but that line does not work properly. The problem is 'saying'.
Analysis shows:
the Vi si TOR is SAY ing he WANTS to STAY.
The two unstressed syllables together interrupt the flow.
Just as a test, try saying 'the visitor has said he wants to stay',and hear the difference.

And (trying not to be too much of a complainer) the first verse simply does not make grammatic sense. I wrote it out in a continuous text and it doesn't. There is no core sentence.

Anyway, having had my second bite of the Apple, I shall now be quiet 🙂

Author's Reply:
John, afraid I do not agree with your comments. You first complained because of a lack of a comma in the first line and now you complain when there is one. To the reader, I suggest the wording is perfectly explicit and in poetry it would be a gross mistake to add unnecessary words. In this case we are trying to write poetry not prose. Wake up good sir !

'Saying' is satisfactory as in normal speech it will be one syllable and does not significantly impede flow, but as a real nit pick I would grant that 'say' flows better. Hope you are happy with that change.
Regards, David

e-griff on 20-12-2014
The green belt, relief from Greek gods.
I regret you decided to make personal comments when we are supposed to be discussing your poem. This type of poem should indeed be grammatic, and imagining 'saying' to be one syllable is perverse. But if you are happy with it that way, fine.



Author's Reply:
John, what personal comments? A plainly jocular suggestion to wake up to the fact that your apparent desire for immaculate grammar is not always applicable - so you change your ground to say that this a particular type of poem demands it - on what grounds and on whose authority. In any case my first verse is plainly lyrical in style. Re 'saying, if you had had read my reply you would see that see that I did agree and indeed made the change. I suggest we now agree to differ and leave it at that.....In friendship, regards ...David

e-griff on 20-12-2014
The green belt, relief from Greek gods.
Anyway, I had similar thoughts in a way. I thought, if man is made in the image of God, then God must be like man. As you imagine, he/they pee/pees. As I imagined it, he craps. I further imagined we were like tiny microbes living in a monstrous turd (our universe). All well and good, I thought, but one day we'll hit the water!

Author's Reply:
Hi John, great logic, great minds. I thought the same as you, but it would be difficult to turn the major product into water without a laxative - I do not know what they use up there for that purpose.
As to the universe - I did not get as far as you, but have sympathy. Psychiatrists will say we are both still in the anal stage. Yours aye, David

Mikeverdi on 21-12-2014
The green belt, relief from Greek gods.
In keeping with the water saturation theme 'all this critique is way over my head' Great stuff again David, sorry to have been away so long. well done on the Nib.
Mike


Author's Reply:
Hi Mike/Lesley, I think we will have to start behaving like the good obedient little amoeba that we once were. I had not noticed the nib until this morning - a big 'thank you' to whomsoever.... and young man, you stay away from the computer to let your neck heal...we do not want you in the stiff-necked upper crust of society, please stay among us. Yours,...David

ValDohren on 21-12-2014
The green belt, relief from Greek gods.
Above my head too David - nothing wrong with a bit of poetic licence, is there ? Anyway, enjoyed reading, and congrats on the nib.
Val x

Author's Reply:
Above your head - coming from someone who can compose immaculately constructed verses? - a likely story. Anyway, glad of your reading and comment - thank you Val. Yours aye, David


The System (posted on: 12-12-14)
Mis-selling of financial systems - who will be punished for selling capitalism and socialism? What's next?

No solutions yet in sight, no finance system gets it right. No choice for any country yet until one route for all is set for those who seek a fairness goal, that operates from pole to pole Capitalism now going bust as rich get richer, poor meet dust, doomed to fail, we hold our breath, watch profit motive crawl to death; the precipice is drawing near for systems based on nervous fear. None can borrow, rate gets worse, none will lend too risk averse. When no one has a penny pot the banks have got the bloody lot, no customers, no shops, nowt made, no more business, end of trade. The socialist state has also failed, freedom feelings get derailed, progress slowed, decisions late, the buck gets passed intemperate. Profit almost mortal sin, the enemies remain within. So what's to do to help mankind, extricate them from their bind? First to learn we must forget the concept of eternal debt. Back to basics give and take. does that a trading system make? Until earth headcount's back to two there's not a lot that we can do. The cyber bitcoin is a start, the notion then becomes the mart and Eve need never pay back loans then due for using borrowed bones. Our owings but imagined thoughts that stretch to infinite in noughts. Repay with kindness when we can; the press of conscience driving man. But there we stop and think again, for none of us is made the same. Some will fail to honour guide and take the system for a ride. Square one beckons like a whore, experience man's had before. David December 2014

Archived comments for The System
Mikeverdi on 12-12-2014
The System
I love this one David, as always you have posted the unpalatable truth, that even an old fart like me feels uneasy about. The fact that at your age you even give a shit speaks volumes. I salute you, and hope that people read this one.
Mike

Author's Reply:

pommer on 12-12-2014
The System
I really enjoyed reading this fantastic poem of truth.It may not be that politicians of any leanings may wish to hear, but I can only hope that one or two may read this, though I doubt it. While one lot tells us that there must be drastic cuts if they get in.The other lot states that they want cut, but gradually reduce our living standards to lessen our national debt. What can I say? Still,mustn't grumble. Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:


God bless America, they say (posted on: 08-12-14)
Yes, but I hope he is thinking carefully about it - and us too. America is beset by many problems some of their own making. We too. If you do not know how dangerous TTIP is to our NHS, then you have not read the right newspaper. Being negotiated in secret between US giant companies and Europe; there is a conspiracy of silence by the privatisation lobby under the guise of free trade.

God bless America, they said, though many homes stay in the red. The gap between the rich and poor knocks loudly at the Senate door, selective deafness on the floor means things stay as they were before. The devil's in the path say some, of foreign policy yet to come. To rule the world with 'pause and think', keep powder dry, stay on the brink. Draw red lines, ignore when crossed, rule nothing out − but power lost. The Middle East − volcanic stack, it's where to go? and who to back? A rebel here, another there, choice of loser? why and where? Alas, the world sells arms to all, nuclear stuff at radical call. Wait too long, let bubble burst then wonder who will come off worst? With Russia, play the cold war game, for bombs read money − much the same. ''Now − we don't need oil a mite, can sit and watch our sanctions bite. Never mind that Europe squeals, while they suffer, we do deals''. With TTIP nearly gelled, The EU welfare states compelled to privatise their NHS, put health care in the US mess. Then there's Satan's foe, Iran, spins many a centrifugal yarn, plays for time, it's nearly up they've offered now a poisoned cup. Does bombing Isis now portend that overnight a foe's a friend? Change one more number? Yes we might; another Moslem bomb, good night. Somewhere up the freedom tree there's meant to be equality. When all American folk feel free who'll redefine democracy? David December 2014

Archived comments for God bless America, they say
Mikeverdi on 08-12-2014
God bless America, they say
This is SO good David, as always you tell us what poetry should be for, not just for the fripperies I write about.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Well Mike, thank you for that take on what poetry is about. Yes, but the problem is that it is difficult to be artistic about world politics - one is stuck with humour and extreme sharpness. I think your word 'fripperies' is grossly unfair to yourself - some of the same limitations apply but on different subject matters. Yours aye, David

Ionicus on 08-12-2014
God bless America, they say
"If you do not know how dangerous TTIP is to our NHS, then you have not read the right newspaper." Would that be the Daily Mail, David? I have given up buying newsheets but I am told that that crusading organ is always reminding us that we are doomed, for one reason or another. I don't need to read any editorials; your poem has summarised very well all the ills that beset us.
Cheers, Luigi


Author's Reply:
I think the Guardian has been the most concerned about TTIP - no surprise - though because the subject does not affect Tory election prospects and the fact that UK has negligible say on the Europe side, the Daily Mail might well have run the story. Thanks for visit and comment, yours, David

pommer on 09-12-2014
God bless America, they say
A well written poem as ever and to the point.Yes,we have every reason to fear for the future of not only the NHS, but also for trade, banking, education etc.but mostly for what I see as the end of democracy as we know it.Unfortunately we cannot vote against it,as we have no say in the matter.All we can do is go onto the barricades metaphorically speaking and protest.Mind you I am a bit too decrepit for jumping onto barricades.Thank you for sharing David,Best wishes Peter.

Author's Reply:
Yes Peter, you are well-informed - we have no say on TTIP. I read that more than a million in Germany had signed a protest petition - well done our friends. "Metaphorical barricades" - sounds like good fun - great phrase - hope to borrow it. My thanks for comment ....David

Rab on 11-12-2014
God bless America, they say
Excellent. TTIP is indeed a huge threat, undoubtedly greater than the threat from Isis. Yet it's unlikely to get much of a mention in next year's election. I presume Ionicus was being ironic suggesting the Daily Mail - I don't read it but I wouldn't be surprised if they support TTIP, which represents, after all, the wholesale privatisation of the NHS, which I'm sure that benighted rag would see as a Good Thing.

Author's Reply:
Hi Rab, many thanks for the comment. I share your views on the Daily Mail - but I do find it puzzling that Brussels bureaucrats themselves have not picked up the problems earlier - backhanders going on probably! In friendship...David


Auld adage for Christmas (posted on: 08-12-14)
Getting in early

Christmas is a time for giving, or do they really mean forgiving? Forgiving who? Why, one and all for what we cannot now recall. Perhaps I've got the timing wrong, remember now a simple song on New Year's Eve the party sang about a chap called Mr Lang; some lovely breast he'd clean forgot − the turkey in the kitchen pot? Ah well, perhaps there's others here who'll stretch their Christmas through New Year take food and wine without a pause, the sleep's divine, the headache's yours. December 2014

Archived comments for Auld adage for Christmas
Mikeverdi on 08-12-2014
Auld adage for Christmas
That would be me then David 🙂 I'll raise a glass to you when me and Mr. Lang meet up HaHa!
Mike

Author's Reply:

Capricorn on 10-12-2014
Auld adage for Christmas
This is very amusing. I wish I could write humorous poetry.
Eira

Author's Reply:


What MPs do (posted on: 05-12-14)
Flash thoughts. A flash poem.

The question... Seek info on what MPs do, a tweet or just a humble blog. A plaintive growl comes back at you for poking stick at sleeping dog, The reply... I sit all day on wooden seat, shout loud across the 'effing floor, forthright when my dander's raised, but every time the Commons meet my best in Hansard are erased. Each case pursued, quiet diligence, the envelopes are brown and full, my colleagues thrive at client expense; I do my best to pull the wool. Constituency, the populace, two hours a week the time for woes, I put the public in their place, most leave my office lachrymose. The Reality... At Westminster I doze all day, awake sometimes if voting starts, or if the wretched whips, they say, are set to ply their darkest arts. The Whip... Who's that stunning intern skirt I saw you with at night club bar? Who's teaching who the path to dirt and how to go a step too far? More truth... Of course I'll queue at once, my friend but is it 'aye' or 'no' I quote? and what's the bill about? be quick, the bell is ringing, time to vote. David December 2014

Archived comments for What MPs do
Mikeverdi on 05-12-2014
What MPs do
There you go again....telling it like it is! You are SO good at this.
Are you sure you're not paid by Private eye?
Great stuff David
Mike

Author's Reply:
Would love to be paid by private Eye. Probably tuppence per 100 words - or maybe you have to pay them to print you?. Thank you Mike - but like it is, how else would you have it? Don't answer that, it would get both of us into trouble. Yours aye, David

pommer on 05-12-2014
What MPs do
Excellent David. It is so very true. I only went to the strangers gallery once. It was enough for me.Half of the members were absent, the other half asleep or dozing.Well done once again David. Best wishes, Peter.

Author's Reply:
We seem to share an interest in these things - good for our age, I suppose. Let anybody say that in our second childhood, we are playing with our political toys, shoot them. At least you have seen the
idle brutes in action - I've never been. Thank you Peter for your continuing kindness.... David

Ionicus on 06-12-2014
What MPs do
December 2104? You are well ahead of yourself, David. Or are you suggesting that the situation you describe, regarding Mps' so 'very busy' and 'unselfish' life, will be the same in 90 years time? You may be right as you seem to have your finger firmly on the pulse.
Regards, Luigi

Author's Reply:
I suspect that by 2100 the English parliament will meet in Hampstead town hall. All of Westminster will be under water by then. Thank you Luigi for your correction and giving me the opportunity to think ahead for a change. After the second Pictish invasion in 2084, I suspect Handforth will be part of Greater Scotland. Best come South before it is too late. Yours aye... David

Gothicman on 08-12-2014
What MPs do
Apologies, David, my Apple Time Capsule router at home blew some caps, and it took some time to get the better quality Japanese Rubicon 1800 uf 6,3 v x 2, + two others that were suspect, and dismantle the can and remove and replace the old inferior Chinese Samxon caps that had blown; all rigged up and working now. This fine poem is too true to be funny unfortunately, even worse are the many Lords and Baronesses who sign in at the gate to get their days pay, and then immediately step back in the Rolls and drive home! We need a purging revolution!
Ayes to the left, Trevor

Author's Reply:
Sorry about your electrolytics, at 1800µF it is pushing the miniaturisation technology and when used for power supply smoothing as yours probably are, it is the level of ripple current that shortens life quickly. Samxon are known for poor reliability - surprised at Apple using them. But, my friend, if you are into lid removal and replacing electrolytics these days then you are indeed a man as well as a poet, I empty my tin of hard-earned cyber Brownies points - they are all for you. Afterthought, hope you were well earthed. Thanks for the comment and I am glad to have a companion in the aye queue for revolution. Yours in ongoing admiration ...David


The low road (posted on: 01-12-14)
Lament for a party, but hope I am wrong. We cant avoid it these days; in politics, personality and presentation beat intelligence and integrity. The members wanted the most suitable man, the Unions wanted a left winger.

Swung the vote with left wing views, not the best man then to choose. Again the Unions brought the fall, failed to see that looks are all, that TV image matters most when struggling to the winning post. Foreseeable, it came to pass their chosen had no gravitas, a face cartoonists gave their eyes to lampoon, came as no surprise. In politics there is an art, you have to live and speak the part. The media rules the narrow mind, they leave the 'nearly man' behind. Tried hard to be what he is not, pretensions failed to hit the spot. Sad to say, 'mongst those who care, Priministerial 'look' not there. We 'Plebs' may well have had our day, when Scottish MPs have no say in England's budget all is lost, the Party' s hopes in permafrost. Farragos born of Farage beer sadly mock poor Ed, it's clear, while UK lurks with Euro-sins frothy laughs beat goofy grins. David December 2014

Archived comments for The low road
Mikeverdi on 01-12-2014
The low road
That is great writing David, worthy of a Broad-sheet newspaper or 'Private Eye' HaHa!
Mike

Author's Reply:
Written specially with you in mind. And I had to remove the really hurtful bits about lips and teeth - oh dear - thanks Mike - the Daily Telegraph perhaps?

stormwolf on 01-12-2014
The low road
Haha yes. If I did not detest politicians as a species I would be tempted to feel sorry for him but the true nature of how so many of them see we plebs, recently exposed, although long suspected...has hardened my heart at their ridicule.
I am sure they console themselves with the many perks of office both legal and those done under the counter 😜
Alison xx

Author's Reply:
To counter, add skirt and trousers and I am with you 100%. Truth is I deleted the meanest lines first thing this morning! Thanks Alison!

e-griff on 01-12-2014
The low road
this jollied along nicely, and was full of identifiable characters. I enjoyed it.

Just two technical points: despite allowing for abbreviated expression, I was unable to find any grammatic logic in the second verse; the pronunciation of 'farrago' I believe the stress is on the 'Ago' not the 'Fa'(so its -/- not /--) throws the rhythm of that line out, just doesn't fit, whereas all the rest is grammatic and rhythmic. 🙂

Nice job, despite. 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thanks for the comments. I believe the second verse is grammatically correct. Two things came to pass - the first was foreseeable lack of gravitas comma and the second that the face was such that cartoonists would give give their eyes (or eye-teeth, or right hand, or kitchen sink etc) to be allowed to draw it comma - also no surprise and foreseeable. However, though within licence, I do agree you are correct about the emphasis in farrago - so thank you, I have amended the content using plurals. Better.
Yours aye....David

Ionicus on 02-12-2014
The low road
No use crying over spilt milk, David. A bit too late for that anyway. The populace are waiting for the next plebiscite before deciding if the 'eyes' have it. Nevertheless it may be superfluous if the verdict favours the patricians.

Author's Reply:
Hi Luigi, I am sad, not for the man, but for the party he still imagines he is the right person to lead. There is still plenty of time, but unfortunately no courage in any quarter, so they will deserve what I suspect they will now get. I think the Tories made the same type of mistake when in opposition they chose two baldies in succession - IDS and then Hague. It's the telly wot dun it. Whatever the result this time, there can be but little room for widely different approaches - Trident scrapped will be the most probable big item of difference and hopefully the businessmen's luxury perk, HS2, will be postponed or go anyway. Thanks for the visit....David

pommer on 04-12-2014
The low road
A great write as usual. I hate all politicians, whatever party I was a true socialist at one time, but not any more.They are all out for one thing, me, me, me.Grumbling Peter.

Author's Reply:
Yes Peter, we do pay politicians a lot to pretend they are doing something good and useful for society but the system gets them all in the end. I have not lost my socialist feelings, but sometimes it is hard to decide which party is proposing to do or doing the least harm. Thanks for reading and kind comment...David


The forbidden sight. (posted on: 24-11-14)
Sweet sadness, sad madness, the story of the toothless poet.

Thief embezzling cake as midnight strikes, the toothbrush lies unused from dawn to dawn. The sweet-tooth drives the mouth toward the 'likes', each day another dental surgeon born. The Guinness book of records says it all, the sweetest teeth on earth yes, they were here, long ago extracted, rotted roots, laden then with mercury they stood, while brain stayed unaffected, so he thought, as nonsense poems ploughed across the page, from grinning oaf, the toothless verses came, an endless mumble in his stricken rage. Dancing plastic gnashers not the same, they jump around the mouth like falling dice and eating then becomes a different game. Full house maybe, but taste − not very nice! Now noisy eating blesses every bite, fixative consumption − staple diet. The quantity, he'd never get it right, squeeze thick enough to keep the molars quiet. He'd leave them on the basin late at night, screams of horror greet the bursting day. Spectacles and hearing aids OK, but teeth, oh no please keep them out of sight !. But sadly now the damage there to stay. The plastic words that come remain obscure, the verses cannot change their spotted way, for poetry sans bite − there is no cure. David November 2014
Archived comments for The forbidden sight.
Mikeverdi on 24-11-2014
The forbidden sight.
HaHaHa! My morning chuckle, thanks David. I remember my fathers in the glass by the bed, still got some of mine; and no false ones yet!
Mike

Author's Reply:
My friend said he was swallowing so much dental adhesive that his guts were knotted. I believe a few Americans died and were seriously ill from the stuff through zinc poisoning. What a way to go.
Thanks for calling.....David

Andrea on 24-11-2014
The forbidden sight.
Haha, made me laugh 🙂

Still got (most of) mine, too...

Author's Reply:
I think perhaps you were well brought up toothbrush wise and/or born after the fluorine in water discovery. I had no mother's milk and was fed on nut milk - rickets, bandy legs and choppers that have known better days. But they do say a man of 21 would be glad of my solid bones - ah well - chance can never please all of our body parts all of the time. Thanks Andrea.....David

Ionicus on 25-11-2014
The forbidden sight.
How true that there is no cure for poetry 'sans bite', more's the pity, but the toothless poet doesn't have to put up with dancing plastic gnashers that jump around the mouth like falling dice, he could try dental implants. Not having personal experience, I don't know how functional they are and I understand it is an expensive treatment.

Author's Reply:
Oh Luigi - Thanks for reading, but can you lend my friend between £12,000 and £50,000 plus another twenty years of life to make the implants worth paying for? Cost is between £2500 and £3000 per tooth so even to just insert two top and bottom for use as a means of clipping on false teeth - is beyond the most people. I am not sure of the success rate but certainly it is less than 100%. Of course all this is why many put up with plates and maybe end up with false teeth (about £1000 +/- £300 per NHS set) and a remaining lifetime ton of glue and irk.

stormwolf on 26-11-2014
The forbidden sight.
Bravo! Bravo!
A masterpiece of wit about a subject that is both humerous but poignant too. How lucky we are that old age steals upon us like a thief in the night! I sometimes think, surveying my spare tyre that if I had suddenly woken up like this in my twenties...why I may have had to be sedated 😀😀😀

Still it's the spirit inside the shell wot matters in the end and yours shines as bright as the North star to me.
Alison xxx
Well deserved nib


Author's Reply:
Hi Alison, Thank you so much for your kind comments - especially as I know your time plans are already overloaded - enough problems to keep you busy on home and family issues. As to awakening to a spare tyre in your mid-twenties, I'd call that a blow below the belt - as I am sure your medical duties then would have eliminated all possibility of such a phenomenon. But please, I for one would willingly forgo your comments if it would enable some more of your own work to appear - we miss you...David.


State of the Nag (posted on: 21-11-14)
A brief treatise on an ancient topic - of concern to all young lads and would-be wives.

On my office door there hangs a note in capitals, so all are now informed − the bravest piece a poet ever wrote: THIS IS A NAG-FREE ZONE YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I don my nag-proof boots to write my verses, that none may dare to halt the flowing nib. Sorry mate, I hear your calls and curses, but nothing shall disturb a bard's ad lib. Now what exactly constitutes a nag? A badger, maybe pester, maybe irk? To hassle, or to harry or to plague? No, anything that takes me from my work. But when did nags originate and how? A Scandinavian word, first used by Thor ? When Freya bade him ''Start your thunder now''. ''Nag off'', he said '''They've heard it all before''. A caveman nagged away from urgent fight ''The dinosaur I cook it is not dead !'' ''Then talk to it, I'm trying with all my might, a pterodactyl's claw has got my head.'' Even Shakespeare knew the dreaded word, Cleopatra called ''ribauldred nag''. To bed, the Egypt nympho's hustle heard, Antony, the fool, then in her bag. ''I will not wash each day behind my ears'', brings strength to many lesser men's careers. A nag's but used to flog a near-dead horse which oddly, by the way, it is of course. David November 2014
Archived comments for State of the Nag
stormwolf on 23-11-2014
State of the Nag
Very witty David
I can just see you sitting writing away with your nag-proof boots on.
I take it you had no interruptions while you penned this one!
Another for your next book I hope.
Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison. Very grateful for last minute rescue - 50 reads and no comments - beginning to think the piece was too awful for comment or touched raw nerves or both. Perhaps interruptions and a stop sign were applicable. No, to be honest, not a very good poem. and grateful for your kindness.
Was about to write anyway - will do so. Yours aye, David

Mikeverdi on 23-11-2014
State of the Nag
So sorry David, I thought I had commented. If I'm honest it's not your best, but then it's still good; and as Storm says it is witty 🙂 I worry for your safety when you do these HaHa!
Mike

Author's Reply:
Nothing to be sorry about - or worried about. Meg is suitably trained - she just ignores my attempts to compose uninterrupted, boots and all - so she has never felt the need to do a Cleopatra and dance naked behind my chair. Thanks Mike - as ever yours, David.


Beacon Hill School (posted on: 17-11-14)
Aged 4 my mother deserted me - ran off with my father's best friend. After the divorce I was sent to a boarding school run by philosopher Bertrand Russell and his wife Dora. My father, then a publisher, knew him. The school, isolated in West Sussex - was more like a prison than a stately home. This is an extract from my memoirs.

Dora Russell - not yet Lady Russell - ran the school. She was a very short woman and, as I was later to discover, she had a very distinctive odour in bed. They had started their school in a lonely spot by the western border of the county. It was intended for children of middle class professionals whose parents wished their children to shake off the shackles of traditional education and indulge in new freedoms such as nakedness, being unwashed, free play and maybe even free love. For me it turned out to be a recipe for anarchy freedom to behave in the worst possible manner. I have clear and vivid memories of some events during my period as a young boarder. Telegraph House was a dour stone building with a central tower overlooking the surrounding wilderness. Built atop a hill, it lay between the villages of East Harting and Elsted and was approached by a mile long private drive from the southern edge of the estate. There were several lawns about the buildings, but beyond them just bracken and scrub, gorse bushes and no cultivation. There were some areas of woodland but few obvious pathways through them. Looking back it was similar to my concept of what Dartmoor prison must be like - and I did escape once to Elsted with a friend to buy sweets, but we were recaptured by the police. Bertrand Russell had his office at the top of the tower - an ideal lonely place in which to write mathematical and philosophical treatises. It was approached via a step ladder through a hole in the ceiling - like a loft. The main schoolmistress was a marvellous lady, Beatrix Tudor-Hart who later ran the well-known Fortis Green Nursery School in north London. She became a close friend of our family for many years until WW2 led to a parting of the ways. I think my father was in love with her. My first memory of her was when she diagnosed that I had flat feet. I was made to walk barefoot round the front lawn on the outer edges of my soles several times a day in summer. I am not sure it did any good and it probably exacerbated my bandy legs, but that is only a guess. It did make me feel as though I was different from the other schoolchildren, of whom I believe there were no more then a dozen, maybe fifteen. Actually, having flat feet probably saved my life at a later stage. The school, apart from being boarding, was small and co-educational - it must have been one of the first in England at that time. We were allowed a mid-morning break in which we could go where we liked. There was one such excursion of about four of us into a nearby area among gorse bushes. It was here that we all undressed and became fully acquainted with the physical differences between girls and boys - at our lower extremities, that is. No action, just presentation! It was a deliberate communal act that must have been triggered by an earlier lesson. My mother came to say good bye to me while father stood in the background. By then I was not quite five years old. It was afternoon siesta on one of the lawns. We lay on camp beds and she did not kiss me, but bent over me, patted me and waved as she went. I did not really understand what was happening or what it meant. Other children watched us. I did not dare to cry. Another landmark was an afternoon expedition on horseback. About half a dozen of us were riding in procession through the bracken when my horse moved rapidly ahead of the one behind. I think the latter horse must have objected to this sudden spurt by my own and it lunged forward and actually bit me gently on the bum. I fell screaming to the ground. The penetration was negligible and the explanation given afterwards was that the horse behind had really intended to bite my horse, but had missed and got me instead. I have always boasted that I have permanent horse bite marks to show for my pain, but to this day have never attempted to hunt for them. The necessary magnifying mirror arrangement and the idea of myself in the search position have been enough to discourage me. The truth is that, like the inhabitants of Loch Lomond and their monster, I prefer not to look too seriously in case the marks are no longer there. Combined with offers of a peek they make good table talk today. Every Sunday evening Bertrand Russell invited us all up the stepladder into his study at the top of the tower. The ritual was that he read stories to us and gave us hot cocoa and ginger biscuits. A treat we loved and looked forward to, but sadly I cannot recall a single story. What I do remember is that Russell believed he had correctly summed up my potential as a future top level hypochondriac - he composed the first two lines of a limerick, but admitted he was unable to complete it. Perhaps that was an act of kindness : "There was a young fellow called Boswell, Who thought he was ill when he was well". My dormitory on the first floor was shared with four other children of a similar age. It was here that my descent into the dark ages began. At about five o'clock one summer morning we had all woken early with the sun streaming in, but did not realise the time. There was a unanimous decision taken to play 'elephants'. This is a game consisting of jumping from bed to floor, on to the next bed and then to the floor and so on, in quick succession all round the room. We had not been playing very long when suddenly the dormitory door swung open and Dora Russell appeared, white-faced in her nightgown. She grabbed the nearest elephant which was me, carried me downstairs to her bedroom, lifted me over a pile of broken glass and metal and threw me onto her bed. We did not know that her bedroom was directly below our dormitory and our elephants jumping game had caused a giant chandelier to leave its moorings on the ceiling below. It had come crashing down within inches of her head. Another foot or so and she might not have survived. She climbed into bed with her back to me and attempted or pretended to go to sleep. I was petrified, but my enduring memory of those two hours is her pheromones. The shock may have triggered some strange perspirations, but the dog in me says it can still smell her to this day. There is one elephant that will never forget the experience. At least it enables me to claim that I have slept with Lady Russell. (match that Mr Verdi). Evidently they felt I was the ringleader and next day I was removed from the dormitory and despatched to sleep in the place where naughty children were sent to mend their ways. This was the small gatehouse at the beginning of the mile-long entrance drive. It was a sort of isolation ward or solitary confinement bedroom run by a strict nanny who lived there. I may be mistaken, but I think she was the wife or mistress of Hans, the German chauffeur of Bertrand Russell. Actually I found this quite exciting because every morning at 8 o'clock Hans had to drive me to the mansion in what he called his 'Rolls Royce' (actually a giant Austin 12) for breakfast and take me back again in the early evening after school supper. I felt even more special. After some weeks Hans took pity on me and he used to let me sit beside him and hold the steering wheel as we went up the drive. It was heaven. One morning late in the year he allowed me to hold the wheel as we passed the main lawn in front of the house. I gave it a sudden heave and before he could regain control we were cruising over the rain-sodden soil. The heavy car made deep ruts in a beautiful sward for what must have been the length of a cricket pitch. It was a sorry sight. Needless to say there was the equivalent of today's anti-social behaviour order (ASBO) issued against me and the sentence was a more prolonged stay in the lodge house. A five-year old boy was banned from driving. This was not the end of the descent. The following summer, together with an American girl who had become my friend, we made an expedition during a free break period into one of the gorse bush areas. One of us had acquired a box of matches - I don't think it was me, but it might well have been. We set fire to the bracken and ran back to the school. Not many minutes later there was a hubbub. My memory has gone blank on the next few hours. I know that fire brigades from five counties were needed to stifle the blaze and that at one time the whole building was under threat. The next morning I was sitting having my breakfast in the dining room. The only telephone was quite near my table. I could hear the stentorian voice of Bertrand Russell telling my father to come at once and fetch his "dreadful child". I was expelled. In his autobiography, Bertrand Russell claims that I started the fire because I was jealous of another girl who had a rabbit and I was not given one. I deny this. We started the fire not far from the rabbit hutches, but I believe it was my simple cry for help. "Get me out of here. I want my mother and my brother". He was also wrong about my future as a first class hypochondriac - only a dodgy lower second was achieved in this activity. I do not know whether the estate was insured against the folly of young pupils. Fifty years later I wrote to Russell at his home in Wales apologising for my bad conduct and explaining that, despite my problems I had achieved my ambition to contribute in life. His reply surprised me. It included more than a hint of an apology for the events and treatment of me at his school. I have kept the letter. David 2001
Archived comments for Beacon Hill School
Mikeverdi on 17-11-2014
Beacon Hill School
Wonderful, more please!! Your decent into debauchery and decadence makes a splendid tale. I note it was written in 2001...I also note the recent inclusion HaHa!
Excellent writing old friend.

On the critique side maybe a few unneeded words, but who am I to critique.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Yes Mike, it does need a good edit. I put it in because my poetic muse decided to go AWOL - fortunately it came back yesterday. Not sure whether later stories are worth a go, but will have a look. Thank you for reading, as ever, my best to you..David

Gothicman on 17-11-2014
Beacon Hill School
Hahahaha, David, while you were in bed with Dora, Bertrand was was replying to Freud's letter "Why War?" This is so interesting, should make a very readable biography. Boarding schools, nurseries for psychical eccentricity and madness! They've kept psychiatrists well in pocket over the years! Joking apart, brilliant writing, David, full of mischievous activity and original humour, I hope we'll be treated to some more episodes!

Trevor

Author's Reply:
Trevor, sincere thanks for your encouragement. I will have a go at posting one or two stories, but not more of my troubled childhood. The stories will not be a continuum like Mike's bio, rather a series of memories (100,000 words available) of amusing industrial and political situations, so I am uncertain as to their degree of interest. We shall see. I know that much depends on making the titles engaging enough to persuade people to press a button. Those who are interested in prose pieces are a hard to please community - and rightly so. I am sure that your own prose is in the top drawer - so if I may, I will have a look at what you have submitted in that genre, but not hope to match it. Again my thanks...David.

Slovitt on 20-11-2014
Beacon Hill School
an enjoyable, fast-paced tale. swep

Author's Reply:
Hi swep, many thanks for your visit and reading me, I do not usually venture into prose essays and feel encouraged by your input. Loved your last piece...David


Life in the RAF (posted on: 17-11-14)
A verbal Rorschach test applying relevant terminology. I always failed of course.

On this gorgeous day, on this landing strip two runways rest in parallel. Smooth of surface, warm to touch. At one end between them lies the hangar within it find grail in Valhalla for mankind. Circle take flak throttle back approach flaps down touch down to hangar debrief apply forward thrust open hatch glide fire apply reverse thrust. Mission accomplished
November 2014
Archived comments for Life in the RAF
Mikeverdi on 17-11-2014
Life in the RAF
I will be honest and say I have no idea what your intro means David. I think I get the gist of the words however.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Mike, the usual Rhorschach test is a picture of an ink blot and you are asked to say what the shape of it suggests to you. From your reply the psychiatrist can decide whether, for example you have a mind focused on sex or upon less interesting things. Here I have done the same thing - only with words instead of an ink blot picture. Your reply suggests you may have the same disgraceful train of mind as me - pure filth. The piece is labelled as experimental
We shall both recover eventually when it is too late. Thank you for reading anyway, yours, David

Gothicman on 17-11-2014
Life in the RAF
David, knowing the time factor of your time in the RAF, I read this like a RAF technician doing daily servicing checks on old ladies at the Red Shield Club! (Revised answer) Rhorschach brevity. Fascinating read! (Must get more sleep!)

Trevor

Author's Reply:
Old ladies? - well, the ones I had serviced then probably are by now. Gistwise, Mike got the message - well he would, so even if Luigi failed to get there, my blot of words succeeded 66%. My own past failures were of course true false modesty. Thanks Trevor.

Ionicus on 18-11-2014
Life in the RAF
Your introduction helped a lot to understand what the poem is all about. Without it I would have interpreted as an observation of aeronautic manoeuvres. By your admission you always failed the test. I am afraid your experiment might fail too.

Yours, Luigi

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi, I think most will recognise the first part as a description of a woman lying on her back and the second is the sexual act itself - both of which were frequent activities when I was in the RAF. My failures were of course fictional - pretending to show that I am a prude at heart - I cannot believe you are of that ilk. The main clue is the word Rhorschach. Yours aye, David


Like father like son? (posted on: 10-11-14)
Pain of the father, pain of the son. Two wars, same madness. Afraid the website has, for poets, a sad weakness - two columns on same page impossible. Please imagine Part 1 sitting alongside Part 2

Part 1 WW1 In world war one my father was a pacifist, not shot as a traitor, became a stretcher bearer. He saw the Somme its tireless horror, the massacre of man in senseless slaughter. As if to find life's reality among the dead while bullets flew, his work - to search the shell holes for pieces of mankind. Some parts that belonged, the jigsaws made of flesh. Some bloody, raw, alone, Yet others neat, whole, but dead. Now we see but poppies. Dead flowers standing for dead bits of people. ''Aaaaten ..shun'' ''Stand at ease'', ''Dismiss''. They do not move. Forget? He never spoke of what he'd seen. The day is gone, the bits are gone, but horror defies escape, lives on, hidden deep in his own memory. In ashes, dead. ---------- Part 2 WW2 In world war two I was a conscript, trained engineer, chose the RAF, not industry. I saw England I saw Europe I saw India I saw Burma I saw crashed aircraft everywhere My work to inspect, be first on scene, see the bits and bodies of my pilot friends, find why they died. Pain of my father visited on me? Punishment? For what?
David November 2014
Archived comments for Like father like son?
pommer on 10-11-2014
Like father like son?
A great piece of writing, particularly at this time of the ear.Yes, I too remember,I saw enough myself.No matter who you are, the pain and the memory remains.Thank you for sharing.Best wishes my friend, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Dear Peter, to tell the truth, I thought of you when I wrote this piece on Remembrance Sunday - wondered how you had fared. It does not make for comfortable reading - war is never comfortable. Anyway, thank you for your kind comment, friend. Yours aye, David.

Andrea on 10-11-2014
Like father like son?
You only had to ask 🙂

Very powerful piece, I thought. My father was in the RAF - never talked about it either - Tommy Lowne

Author's Reply:
Well Andrea that was very kind of you - I had no idea that I should have asked you - my thanks, but please do tell me me how to do it if it be possible by a distant member. Can't say I recall meeting your Dad, but send my belated respects.
And yes, last on list 3 times out of 5 - not bad going eh ! Actually I had submitted two pieces but erased one before it had been read. Best wishes, David.





Mikeverdi on 11-11-2014
Like father like son?
Well done David (and Andrea). An excellent if sad look at times of war. I lost a brother I never new I had in WW2, he was in bombers flying out of Lymington air base in Yorkshire; his grave is there as he was killed on landing after a raid. I felt compelled to visit his grave when I found out about him five years ago; I didn't expect the pain I felt.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Yes, Andrea has kindly enabled the piece to have its intended full meaning - bless her. Sadly your brother being killed on landing was the worst possible luck - especially if he had returned from a raid. My thanks Mike for comment - will check out your piece too, Yours aye, David Apols for delay.

Andrea on 11-11-2014
Like father like son?
No problem at all,DaviD.I'll send you what it looks like behind the scenes, I can't post it here (for future ref, you could save the code).


Author's Reply:
Dear Andrea, many thanks for the code and above all - for putting my piece in proper context. Mike will fill in you on what has happened recently to me. XXX David

Ionicus on 11-11-2014
Like father like son?
Very strong pieces. Sentiments shared by many, David. All wars are madness in my opinion, a view that I too have often expressed although not with the same eloquence.

Luigi

PS We seem to be in the same boat; towards the bottom of the page once again, no matter how early or late I post.

Author's Reply:
Yes Luigi, I have three times out of five submissions been actually last on list - not bad going eh?.
Agree - so many have similar stories I know. My story was triggered by Kipper's piece on the war memorial scenario - I felt that the less pleasant story of glory, King and Country and parade of medals in church needs to told. The balance between celebration and true realistic remembrance gets more than tinged with the power and glory business. We need to be ashamed of what many of our leaders did throughout the trigger period and fighting phases of WW1. My thanks for comment and best...David

Kipper on 11-11-2014
Like father like son?
Hello David


This is a very moving piece of writing. As you have previously mentioned there is uncertainty in your mind as to the 'value' of war tributes, and I think there is a hint of that here. I came into the reckoning after you and did not see for myself scenes that those of earlier generations saw, and it would be impertinent of me to question your views and your memories. I sincerely do not.


What I feel is that your words are a tribute, but at the same time an expression of the futility and utter waste.


Who can argue with that.


Beat wishes, Michael

PS Andrea.
Well done for arranging this as David wanted it!











Author's Reply:
Hi Michael, I do agree with you that there is a difficult balance between tribute and glorification of war. I am not sure the present celebration we have now is the right approach, but in truth, it is what each of us feel in our minds that matters most. Excess of symbolism often plays the wrong way for me. Your kind comment on the piece much appreciated, in friendship, David.

Gothicman on 12-11-2014
Like father like son?
David, I had an uncle, a bank manager, who also refused to bear arms in WWII and became a stretcher bearer at the front, killed at Caan by stukka bombers while lying injured himself in a roof marked ambulance; buried by local French in an impressive grave with wrought iron railings around, but later (2000) re-interned beside his comrades at a official war cemetery further south. Excellent poem, for me your best to date, my first favourite choice. A brilliant poem of parallel experiences from authentic memory.
Trevor

Author's Reply:
Your sad story is a war crime indeed, and no doubt some of our pilots may have done the like - all part of the madness.
As as a comparative Erk, what irks is that on the celebration Sunday all of our folk in this little Dorset feudal village (Pop 220), who were in the services during WW2 are expected to turn out in full boast wearing their medals. Mine are long buried deep with the dead. I stay away while my wife, who is deeply into church affairs - carries and supports my feelings, attends solely for religious reasons. Thank you Trevor for your very kind words and Hot Story/fav nomination. Truly an honour as it is from one among the gods. In friendship...David P.S. Apols for delay, I have been in hospital for a few days - Gall bladder situation unresolved - operation postponed for a few weeks.


The philosopher's castles (posted on: 07-11-14)
Philosophy, the game is played. Frail inventions of fragile minds

What is truth? What is logic? What is reason? What belief? They are the mortar of society. The swings and roundabouts of life are playing fields where, like children with their toys, philosophers juggle the unanswerables, seek meaning, go compare. Among their little bricks sit God and peace, crime and war, money, love and hate. They build imagined castles in the air. Each huffs and puffs in joy at colleague's model tower, blows its fragile theories to the ground Each time a different answer; each time a different fault; for their little bricks are man-made, flawed, unsound. David November 2014

Archived comments for The philosopher's castles
Mikeverdi on 07-11-2014
The philosopher’s castles
Like this David ...like it a lot! a shade different than recent writing; nice piece mate 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike, yes a change - Trevor accused me of being preoccupied with bad news - but this poem, though in Free Verse is still bad news - my poem about Heaven was supposed to be a joyful laugh, but ended up in Hell - oh dear - I am stuck. Cheers, David

Ionicus on 08-11-2014
The philosopher’s castles
"for their little bricks
are man-made,
flawed, unsound."

These concluding lines are the answer to the questions posed by the first stanza:

"What is truth? What is logic?
What is reason?
What belief?
They are the
mortar of society."

It all boils down to the strength and consistency of the mortar, innit? A well reasoned argument, David.

Cheers, Luigi

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi for constructive comment. What I intended was that the little bricks are the activities
of mankind and that the mortar (guidelines, ideals) is supposed to integrate them to create a good society - but being man-made, the little bricks do not match the ideals and the system (society) drifts to failure. But of course if the ideals etc are also flawed then yes the mortar fails too. My point (being science-oriented) is based on likelihoods - that the little bricks (activities) are far more likely to be flawed than the mortar (ideals). But then our house has cob walls - so we live a in a mud hut - no bricks - what then? Yours aye, David


Owed to my laptop? (posted on: 03-11-14)
The clever gods are on to a mathematically good thing Play the field, love but do not bet.

I fear I have a new disease immune to best of medi-care. The cause just sits in front of me, but will not tell me why it's there. I stare the world straight in the eye, it stares me back as liars will; I strain to see some sign of guilt for what it may be doing to me. It seems to think that's badly put, that boot is on the other foot. I lour the screen right in its face, why do you keep me waiting here, I sit and tend your every wish, yet you dismiss me out of hand. Perhaps if I just kiss your switch you'll wake princess, you silly bitch? The lap of gods is comfortless, but where to turn and who to bless? When laptops count their rosary beads, a little love is all it needs. Do nothing, plead the Act of Gods; ''Let chance decide the current odds. If things go bad that's fate you see, if all goes well of course it's me''. David November 2014
Archived comments for Owed to my laptop?
Supratik on 03-11-2014
Owed to my laptop?
David! Yet another good one! Rhymes sometimes are asymptotic, viz. will-guilt, disease-me, that go with the theme of the poem! Excuse my ignorance, but I am curious to know why the last three lines are within inverted commas! While I couldn't agree more on the thought, the last two lines simplify the meaning of the poem! Wonderful, crafty and witty use of laptop! Best. Supratik

Author's Reply:
Of course Supratik you see the poems five hours ahead of us sleeping English folk. I planned to rise early and change something but you beat me to it ! Well 'asymptotic' is an elegant word to describe the nearly rhyme - great, I love it. But this poem is written in what I call Free Rhyme - equivalent of Free Verse - lazy composing where one cannot be bothered to change things to form a good rhyme, but while rhymoing where you can do easily, but keeping rhythm is sacred. In contrast, Free verse is where literally anything goes - even pure prose chopped up as in firewood. My friend you are good to spot the inverted comma game - deliberate poetic ambiguity. The words could be spoken either by a god, by the laptop or by me. But look at the poem title and a clever god becomes the likelihood - it is a bit of a swipe to tease believers in gods anyway - gods can be right 50% of the time without doing a thing - hence Act of God.
Sincere thanks for visiting and kind words - my earlybird friend ! Yours, David



Supratik on 03-11-2014
Owed to my laptop?
What a befitting explanation David! I love it! Free verse it is, and why not. On one level, your poems entertain and on another level, they stimulate our brain and make us think! For example, these lines:
"The lap of gods is comfortless,

but where to turn and who to bless?

When laptops count their rosary beads,

a little love is all it needs." Best. Supratik

Author's Reply:
Thanks again Supratik. You may already know the existing poetry classifications but if you send me your email address I will send you attached pages with some helpful definitions which may be useful. My address is Davidboswell@uwclub.net

Mikeverdi on 04-11-2014
Owed to my laptop?
Bloody hell David !!!! I just thought it was a good read HaHa! all to deep for this old laggard 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:

pommer on 04-11-2014
Owed to my laptop?
Great David, entertaining and thought provoking.Had to read it two or three times to understand, but I enjoyed the free verse /rhyme.Peter.

Author's Reply:


Hazards and risks (posted on: 31-10-14)
Design Engineers nightmare. Psychiatrists living

What is harm and what are its effects? Some think the harmed can always smell the rat. Inanimates can show and hide defects and people are the same for all their chat. Psychology the medicals dictate, the couch their safest route to help the mind, but how should we approach the solid state ‒ the television set ‒ mocks humankind. Hazard-risk analysis desired for every product known upon this earth, but who will pay the cost of what's required to implement it is it moneysworth? Electric safety rules are long in test, demand each hazard's risk be almost nil, of engineers to do their level best. But then we learn the TV's danger still. The programmes are the poison in the pill What tests apply to govern what we view? Useless, ineffective, precious few. The death and drama fed to greedy minds. We take the risk, watch, some get benefit, but fail to see the hazards twixt the lines. Inured to violence, crime and cruel sex, our daily dose of murder and deceit. The worst in life is spread before our eyes each hour the news, we're fed repeat, repeat. Seek cleansing in the soaps?, inaptly named, supposed to show what's normal ‒ now and then, but sadly they are full of madness too, for viewing figures drive the writer's pen. And politics, the antics of buffoons, the clowns that know not what they need to do, elected by the souls who watch TV ‒ what else can we expect from 'much ado'? David October 2014
Archived comments for Hazards and risks
Mikeverdi on 31-10-2014
Hazards and risks
Great piece David, as always you find the right words. I fear the gates of this hell were opened a long time ago, and will never close again. In the end I find TV is simply 'Much ado about nothing' Those who's minds will be altered by what they see on the box' are lost soles anyway. Far worse (or better) on the internet now for those who like it.
Mike

Author's Reply:
You speak good sense my friend. There is a huge contrast between the rigid safety rules applied to the construction of the TV sets themselves and virtually none to their usage. Thanks Mike.

pommer on 31-10-2014
Hazards and risks
Another great creation of your pen.Just found my grandmother's exercise book from 1859 when she was twelve.How much simpler life was in those times, but all changes are in inevitable, whether we like it or not.Be lucky David, Peter.

Author's Reply:
In 1859 my grandmother's notebook would probably have been written have been written in Italian - she married an Irishman who became a King's Messenger. He deserted her in Moscow. After that it became too muddy to put in print ! I was lucky, thanks ....David

Ionicus on 01-11-2014
Hazards and risks
Ah, there you are; I find you at last. Once again at the bottom of the page but at least the 'nibber' found you.
I doubt very much that risk analysis is applied to television programmes or any other form of entertainment including those parliamentarian clowns of which you speak.

Author's Reply:
Thank you for digging beneath the heavy pile of class poetry. If it happens again tomorrow that will be a 1 in 10,000 chance and I will know there is skulduggery. Perhaps there is a message for me, but then the nib arrives. I must visit Confused.com on line. Of course you are right about there being no risk analysis on programmes - not really practicable but the PM's office in Downing Street try hard to apply it with what they release ! Thanks Luigi. Yours David

Gothicman on 02-11-2014
Hazards and risks
Bozz, as Luigi points out, you always seem to be last on the list, first in or last out, more or less enthusiasm to submit required? Should introduce a fifty-fifty news exposure law too David, with an apolitical team scouring the world for something positive to tell, go to bed feeling warmed and contented by how wonderful we humans really are, Yes, our personalities formed, steered, and driven by the limited and mostly negative TV reportage. Damn your fine poetry, David, I'm going to cut you to pieces with sword and machete and feed the meagre bits to ravens and goldfishes (Game of Thrones episode 57 ITV & Party Debate Farage vs Clegg BBC April)...Hahahha! Friend..Trevor (In bed with inflamed Achilles, half delirious of Disprin)

Author's Reply:
Oh Dear - TV headline :"Delirious poet massacres colleague in Isis-type attack". You will sleep well on that? Ah so, just hope the Achilles heel will keep you safe at home and allow me a few more submissions. Some of them might even be flippant - see tomorrow - but there is no guarantee of freedom from unpleasant subversive undercurrents. Ha Ha! Trembling thanks Trevor. Yours aye, David

Kipper on 02-11-2014
Hazards and risks
Hello David
There are those who claim that all TV does is to mirror the lives of viewers. I for one do not believe that and clearly you do not. Trouble is that once the Genie is out of the bottle it's devilish hard to put him back.
Your poem says it all as only you can.
Best regards, Michael


Author's Reply:
Having been involved in manufacturing TV sets for much of my working life in electronics, it is the contrast between the rigorous safety standards on their guts compared with destructive side of the effects of their use that irks me. Of course they give tremendous joy to many and how I love to watch good sports and an interesting play. Then again the tawdry rubbish that passes for much of the entertainment side drags down to a low common denominator. But you are right - no cork on the bottle. Thanks for comment Michael ...Yours aye, David


Putting things right (posted on: 27-10-14)
Even Saint Peter can err.

Heaven is no place to hide, its virtues not as advertised. Believe me, I have been and tried, found it awful not surprised. The virgins promised, oft re-used, suspect there are a hundred there, all have clearly been abused, exhausted, having done their share. Housing standard very poor, mostly built from concrete bits blown skyward by our bombing hits or nicked by angels from our skips. Travel there takes twice as long, Why hurry for the dead and poor. No aeroplanes or trains or cars but angels drag you door to door, Food to die for? Not a drop, but nectar once a day allowed, for boss says eating has to stop, no contact with his Bacchus crowd. Politics - a subject banned. Europhiles stopped at the gate for Heaven is 'cloud cuckoo land', Faragists get a special rate. How did I escape, you say, I tweeted then a big surprise, Google brought my parachute He landed first and got his prize. I came down later in the day, but having done so, very well will some kind soul please point the way; being dead, I'm really seeking Hell. I know you folk on planet earth think that is now your present plight, but take my word for what it's worth; Heaven's worse and Hell's delight. David October 2014
Archived comments for Putting things right
stormwolf on 27-10-2014
Putting things right
haha, just fab David!
Another laced with wry observations. Gave me a laugh.
Not sure about last line?
I felt rhythm may have gone slightly askew. Was expecting

being dead, I’m really seeking Hell.
Sort of fitted in better but maybe wrong 😉
Alison x



Author's Reply:
Thanks Alison, have taken your advice and also added a final verse as I felt the poem needed rounding off a bit. Just a drop of fun for a break and a chance to pick up on the Google boss's fantastic ballooning then parachute descent from the stratosphere. Glad to see you are back in form though a bitter blow - will comment and then reply to yours re multilayering. Your friend... David

Kipper on 27-10-2014
Putting things right
Hi David,

Of course you've ruined it for me; got it all weighed up except for the curtains. Now I don't know what to do.

I've heard that Purg A Tory is offering special rates too. Just wait till Ed finds out about that.

Another good one - keep en coming!

Michael

Author's Reply:
Oh Michael, I am very sorry to have dampened your hopes. Of course each religion has its different Heaven so try another travel bureau. I know that Christians and Muslims share a god and presumably hence his Heaven, but what about in India or China? Don't scrap your planned curtains just yet. I thought Purgatory was overcrowded with Liberals, but there we go. Many thanks for reading and commenting on tail end Charlie -last on the list....Yours, David

Ionicus on 28-10-2014
Putting things right
Good heavens, David! My dreams were shattered too. What, virgins re-used, abused and exhausted? Can't we safeguard the harem by sending eunuchs instead of martyrs? Just a suggestion.

Author's Reply:
Well yes Luigi, of course eunuchs would suit, but first catch and castrate. Perhaps that could be arranged at all exit points on travellers heading to Turkey, Lebanon etc. But I should have mentioned that if Heaven were to have been an EU member, they would have been receiving vast injections of cash support. The economy there is in a bad state - too many atheists smuggled in and they refuse to pay taxes to an imaginary government. Apologies for wrecking your future plans - prospectus for Hell available on line. Your friend, David

pommer on 28-10-2014
Putting things right
I wished you hadn't told us. I was looking forward to all those virgins.Another dream shattered.I shall have to enquire from the boatman where to go before crossing to Hades,over Styx whichever.I enjoyed the poem,Best wishes, Peter.
Sorry for my absentmindedness,now have edited this comment.Thanks for your reply David.I have a lot on my mind at present.Peter.

Author's Reply:
They have an airport now - Heaven International Gateway. But the queues are on the various cloud levels, cumulus, stratus, nimbus, cirrus etc depending on your sin count. If you are accepted there you get flown direct to HIG. Put away your oars - they are regarded as offensive weapons on board.
Thanks Peter. but Virgins for you Peter - not a hope - you have to have beheaded an innocent Christian to qualify these days. Yours aye...David

Mikeverdi on 28-10-2014
Putting things right
I think we all know where I will be going, get me a pint in if you get there first 🙂

One of your best for me David.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike - I will make sure it is waiting - and cooled to body temperature. Yours David

Texasgreg on 29-10-2014
Putting things right
Lol, David! Aye, virgins are too much work anyway, IMO. 😉

Funny and provoking just as I expect from you. Good job!

Greg 🙂

 photo Gunspincowboy.gif


Author's Reply:
Delighted to hear from you Greg - my thanks for the comment. Actually it has given me another opportunity to study your mesmeric gun-toting skills. I deduce that, although deliberately shooting wide, your left hand pistol is aimed low at my prostate height and the right hand one points higher at my brains. I should point out that in my case neither of these organs is functional, so you would be wasting your time and valuable ammunition. Very best wishes....as ever your friend...David. `

Gothicman on 30-10-2014
Putting things right
Hahaha, I'm not waving I'm dead and homeless, been dragged to heaven, got the T-shirt, didn't like, thrown your harp away, learning to play the bagpipes instead!! Hahaha! You didn't like the council house given to you in heaven or the one star brothel, David, so now you're thinking hell can't be much worse? Don't worry, hell is also cloud cuckoo land, you're on a time curve so you'll be born again immediately in Tarrant Gunville, someone will smack your arse and off you'll go again writing fine poems like this one...very humorous, Heaven could never match your humour! Nor hell! One for your new collection.......Trevor

Author's Reply:
Trevor your intimate knowledge of both locations is suspicious. I cannot imagine you as some sort of fonctionnaire in charge of the torture chambers, so you must be a god of some sort - waiting to disillusion unwary poets. I recall that you promised to wave to me some place. The packaging of your kind remarks is a treat in itself - my thanks friend. ....David

Supratik on 31-10-2014
Putting things right
This is so Davidish!!! How much I enjoyed going up and down and giggling all the way... mind blowing! Awesome!!!

Author's Reply:
Hi Supratik, Well 'Davidish' is certainly something I am glad to be and delighted at every chuckle I can generate - after all when we poets publish we are automatically in the entertainment business.
Thank you too for your generous gift of Hot topicship - though where I am going, not too hot I hope.
You might be amused by Googling 'Hell frozen over' - choose the Beecy version. Read to the end to get the full effect. Hilarious. Anyway, sincere thanks for your kind comment...David


The English Greeting - October 2015 ? (posted on: 24-10-14)
Tomorrow it will be the dogs that must wait while their owners are in quarantine.


Morning, Morning. How are you? I am fine and how are you? I'm fine thanks. You're looking well Thanks - and so are you. Yes that is what good people used to do, but soon.? Morning Don't get close to me How long since you washed your hands Joe's got the bug and yesterday we had a hug OK I'm off I think I've got a little cough I don't feel sick You never know See you three weeks time I hope. Are you sure your dog can cope? David October 2015 ?

Archived comments for The English Greeting - October 2015 ?
sweetwater on 26-10-2014
The English Greeting - October 2015 ?
Only sensible way to go, isolation means prevention at the moment. At least its not a bland cold kennel and no understanding of why. Enjoyed your view of the future, but possibly not the future itself! 🙂 Sue.

Author's Reply:
We live in an isolated village in mid Dorset, but it only wants for someone to go to London and we all get Flu. Would that Ebola was just a member of the European cricket team - groan. My thanks for your perspicatious comment...David

Gothicman on 26-10-2014
The English Greeting - October 2015 ?
Hahaha, I can just see all those poor owners sitting in the human pensionat sighing and tutting during the dog visiting times, jumping at the wire as the dogs leave! I wear gloves, waders and goggles on trams and busses, and wash my hands on returning home, use plastic instead of cash, and receive groceries using a string and basket on a gantry, but otherwise, not bothered, if the germ's got your number on it, it'll get you! Too true, perhaps, to be funny, but then a cup of tea and a laugh, that's the bulldog spirit! Good poem with dark undertones, gave me an infectious laugh!.....Trevor

Author's Reply:
Oh what a lovely comment - dog visitors time indeed - thanks for the best laugh (infectious or otherwise) in a month - much needed. Yours, David


Washing brains for dirty work? (posted on: 24-10-14)
What I call a 'Free rhyme' structure opposite of Free verse. Do rhyming only where it fits the message, go blank verse where it does not - but keep the rhythm at all costs. Are you sitting uncomfortably? Good.

When children go to sleep at night, are taught to kneel for bedside prayer, then off to Sunday school to learn of Lord and Christ and bible tales; well that brings only Christian thoughts, so all is well, thinks everyone. It's only when the like occurs with juniors in an another clime where other faiths take other gods, it then becomes a 'brainwash' crime ! Good Christians go to church for life, perhaps a mission overseas uninvited by the land, to save them from their Medicine Men and teach that God needs money too, that capitalism is his price to make you good, a loyal slave but only for the lower class, for if you're rich and live at ease like Mammon Men - developed world, the rules become 'do as you please'. When children are not taught of God, Commandments on what's right and wrong, believers think we're rather odd, a dreadful shame we don't belong. Thank God that I am renegade. No manners you can always tell for nature has its sports as well, we can't all fall beneath a spell that said we must, or go to Hell, for that is what their good man bade, almost called a spade a spade. It's not like that at all of course, religion's not the only source. In 'seculars' behaviour's taught, do more than what you can and aught. Learn and you will work and play, get jobs for less than minimum pay. Do as you're told and never strike, the penalty 'get on your bike'. Fairness? 'Never heard of that'. Your new employer, quick, condemns: 'Ethics'? A county North of Thames. David October 2014
Archived comments for Washing brains for dirty work?
Mikeverdi on 24-10-2014
Washing brains for dirty work?
However you describe the form David, it's another of your fine 'rants'.... you crusty old codger you! 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
Oh no, Mike my friend, hope you got the double message. Maybe it comes over as that this time, but suggest the word 'rant' be given a rest anyway - it is synonymous with a put-down - deserved or otherwise. Yours, David. PS As to your nibworthy words on the site, well said - and I have sent a larger than usual contrib.....David

Ionicus on 25-10-2014
Washing brains for dirty work?
Your message is more than double, David, it is multilayered; with religion, poverty and social deprivation it presents a very gloomy picture of our society. In the words of the old Music halls: it's the same the world over, it's the poor that get the blame.

Author's Reply:
Yes, Luigi, our society is not in a very pleasant state right now - rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer, but be of good cheer for poetry and wine are available to some and Ebola to all. Some say that is the monkey's revenge. My thanks for reading and I will try for some humour next time around. Your friend, David

Nemo on 25-10-2014
Washing brains for dirty work?
"Fais ce que voudras." Reminds me of that man who wanted to bring back 'nineteenth century values'! We'll never win, will we? I enjoyed the wit in this, David, and also felt the anger and the frustration.
Regards, Gerald

Author's Reply:
Hi Gerald, I fear at the moment it is 'Plus ca change plus ca va encore mauvais - chaque fois un petit peu'? - pardon my amateur French. Yes there are a few sly digs in the piece en route. My thanks for your attention and spotting them. beat wishes, David

ValDohren on 25-10-2014
Washing brains for dirty work?
No, there's definitely no such thing as fairness David. As for Ethics, never heard of that county !!
Val xx

Author's Reply:
Yes Val, you speak rightly - the sad thing is that those that are involved in carrying out unfairness in industry will, by and large, have had the same right/wrong training as those they mistreat - strange folk, we humans. The Essex input was how we Brits used to describe the bad behaviour of the giant American company we worked for - eventually I left in disgust when I was sent on management courses and I realised I was being trained to be a real shit. My thanks for comment ....David

stormwolf on 26-10-2014
Washing brains for dirty work?
Hi David,
I have to say that I have made errors in the past on some of your poems by only highlighting the bits that stood out emotionally for me (although I got the rest) but here I have a chance to say that I happen to agree with Ionicus.
This IS multi-layered as only a truthful and insightful appraisal of modern society can be.
As the differences between the rich and poor become chasms, we are reminded that it's always been like this and the thin film of 'progress' and 'civilization' we think we have achieved...is just that. A mirage in a desert of man's greed, self interest and ultimate folly.
I have come to the conclusion that we have signed our own end due to the arrogance and the lack of love but then again, in my soul I feel that what is happening now is the burning off of the chaff, to let us enter a new age of enlightenment where the world is a fairer place and we see the inherent dangers of foisting our personal beliefs on others (often at the end of a gun).

Ebola is a nightmare that respects no social class, although in its infancy the poorest of the poor have been sacrificed....when it takes hold in the west, then we shall see that we cannot mess with nature or manipulate the natural order without suffering the consequences.

Hard-hitting poem, never stop!

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Yes Alison, On reflection maybe too many layers. Aside from a dig at one moral source, the main message was intended to be that however we learn the right and wrong series, most of us end up at the mercy of wrongdoers - with an unsaid layer that by and large we all get the same training yet many are forced by society and its structure to do wrong to our fellow humans to earn a living. Bless you for taking the time. Did Mike send you a photo of their new Granddaughter - lovely.


Love, Honour and Obey, Terms and Conditions apply (posted on: 20-10-14)
Love always, Honour when it is appropriate and Obey when there is absolutely no other option. Terms and Conditions apply.

If comfort is your wear of choice, you'll need to speak with louder voice. You have probably heard it all before. ''You cannot possibly go out looking like that. For goodness sake - at least put on a decent pair of trousers and your shirt must be dirty by now. Come here'' your collar is grabbed ''Oh my word, look at it, it's filthy''. Well, for a start, it is no good trying the Cameron 'Calm down dear' routine. Nor can you use the excuse that no one will come near you because the next person you meet will likely be on the huggable list. No my friend it is to the bedroom again for you. Then, in what you hope is a pass-muster collection of clean gear, you reappear. ''Oh no ! - My God, not that jumper with those trousers you colour-blind idiot'' (or words of less restraint). ''You've got at least three in your cupboard that will match''. Long pause -- you must now recognise that in tennis terms, this is a different sort of match point. To give way now will mean the game is over. Servitude forever. Stiff upper lip required. ''Today's fashion gurus say colour conflict is now all the rage, what I'm wearing will do fine, let's go''. ''I am not going out with you looking like a farm scarecrow.'' This episode is getting out of hand. I'd better stop now. We'll try a different subject. Warmth. We are about to go shopping. I don a lightweight jacket. ''You don't need a jacket, its warm outside and take off that winter jumper too. No wonder you are sweating all the time''. Gulp. I try to explain that perhaps my body thermostat is different from hers, that it has turned a bit chilly out there and in any case I love this jumper. Please may I be allowed to choose the thickness of my clothing? ''And you have far too many blankets on your side of the bed ‒ you know it's not good for you...''. Again we had better stop. What can a man do when his wife has a great sense of style, never feels the cold, knows about colour co-ordination, dresses immaculately for very occasion and to cap it all, has a razor sharp sense of propriety. The correct answer of course is simply ''Obey''. But you love her and would that be right? Like Obama, I have to find a strategy to stay alive in my post. Preferably without collapsing with hypothermia while I try on my entire wardrobe in succession. An hour to get dressed? That's not on man and you know it. Walk naked through the streets of Gunville to demonstrate perfect colour match, top half with bottom? Get tested for colour blindness both of us? I could go on but it would probably be wiser to say ''Shall we go out to lunch in Salisbury right now. We can do some shopping for matching new clothes afterwards''.
Archived comments for Love, Honour and Obey, Terms and Conditions apply
Supratik on 20-10-2014
Love, Honour and Obey, Terms and Conditions apply
Yes, birthday suit seems to be the best, by far undisputed. However, the kind of creative work 'plastic people' are coming up with, you never what's in store!
Well, obey may not be right, how about surrender, after all we are the poor cousins sailing in the same boat, so the choice is in between the devil and deep sea!
Happy dressing! Btw, I was in splits to see how 'others' also go through! Best. Supratik

Author's Reply:
Great comments - and helpful to boot - thank you Supratik. A few years back there was a TV serial in which the wife was always referred to as "She who must be obeyed" - it became a worldwide cliche that has stuck - here at least. Yours aye, David

Mikeverdi on 20-10-2014
Love, Honour and Obey, Terms and Conditions apply
Ah...a subject most men will be familiar with. If I didn't know Meg I would think you were living in servitude HaHa!
A clever ploy to bring 'lunch and shopping' together; what woman could resist. 🙂
My second wife would fit the bill on this one.
Mike

Author's Reply:
But how well do you know Meg? At least it is servitude with gratitude = she is my carer! I have come to believe that poets are poets are better at finding ways out of conflict than most. Command of the language is one thing, imagination is another and as Peter Pommer says - be lucky. I am sure you must be one of the best at this - knowing a few more women in your life than I have. There speaks jealousy . Thanks and, as always, yours, good friend....David

Kipper on 20-10-2014
Love, Honour and Obey, Terms and Conditions apply
David you've been eavesdropping at my back door.
I'll swear that was word for word from just last week; and the week before.

Michael


Author's Reply:
No Michael, it is far deeper than that. I have hacked into every UKA member's computer and can hear everything that your wife says - tell her that - with my best love of course. Ah well, we suffer noisily most of the time but sometimes silence is the most appropriate. Thanks and greetings, David

pommer on 21-10-2014
Love, Honour and Obey, Terms and Conditions apply
I get a more subtle treatment.Looks can be more devastating then words.Still, her indoors will always win anyway.I like the write, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Reading women and writing poetry - that is a masterly combination - reason for envy. But does the subtlety work - that is the real question? My thanks Peter...David


Another chance, another mess? (posted on: 17-10-14)
Do not despair - 'Plus ca change, plus c'est le meme chose'- sort of.

What do rich men think about when lazing in the sun? Next car, next boat, next plane, or island, wife - and maybe son. Power and influence, of course with people who obey. The strings of wealth obtained by stealth, they know no other way Disposable assets is the rule that governs their every move, so last night after evening meal came vomit to their groove! Ebola strikes both rich and poor, the leveller must prevail; when half theIr population's dead will Africa be for sale? When all the rich are bled and gone then indegines by name take stolen lands - return to those who had the prior claim. We start from scratch another chance to make the world success? Odds are, if man is still at large, another bloody mess. David October 2014
Archived comments for Another chance, another mess?
Mikeverdi on 17-10-2014
Another chance, another mess?
This is well done David. As far as I can see Africa has always been for sale, the price has always been paid in blood; white and black have paid that price. Did things improve when the white Man gave up his burden? I see no end to this. Ebola, the latest plague to hit the world, the worst in modern times...The end of the world is nigh! Well maybe, it's early days and the chips are down; but not out....yet.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Yes Mike, many thanks for comment . Vomit is a 'disposable asset' that is common to rich and poor mankind. This was the intended message, but I got into deeper water. If it does take hold here it will spread like wildfire - but I think there might be a jab developed before it gets to Plymouth.
Drink and be merry....yours, David

Gothicman on 18-10-2014
Another chance, another mess?
Yes, another "democratic" dangerous virus in that unlike the distribution of wealth makes no distinction between folk and person, just better care facilities, though no guarantee even then. If only Africa had kept its harmless "medicine man" and "ancestral sprits" belief cures as extra placebo to medical advances, tribal conflicts just waving spears, and no black Generals and Colonels armed with Russian and Chinese weaponry, with Swiss bank accounts! A continent too of beautiful, peace loving peoples if untouched by Western religion, and now Islamism. So tragic how exploitation of this fine continent has left 99% of the population living in abject poverty, dying of highly contagious deceases, with little or no health care. How can these "warlords" do this to their own people? Decease, military-backed greed, and forced on Islamism, so tragic. Sometimes, this messaging just doesn't suit rhyme, I don't know why it feels so, even while expertly done.....Trevor

Author's Reply:
Hi Trevor. Agree about rhyme - especially short line stuff - hard to give it gravitas. Vomit is the disposable asset common to rich and poor alike. Meant to add that, to my shame, my grandfather who went there to exploit whale blubber in Durban, was a close friend of Cecil Rhodes - the dastardly importer of the worst type of imperialism capitalism. Alongside Smuts, they were a bunch of rogues.
Yours aye...David

stormwolf on 19-10-2014
Another chance, another mess?
Hi David
I cannot add much to Trevor's fine comment.
Africa the land of huge skies and an obscene paradox of great wealth in nature's precious minerals and grinding abject poverty.
What an unfair world we inhabit.
Alison x

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison, many thanks for popping in and commenting. The poem was just meant to point that 'vomit' is the 'disposable asset' that is common to rich and poor alike. But Trevor is right in suggesting that perhaps rhyme - especially short line rhyme - is not the best vehicle here.


A walk in the valley of life (posted on: 13-10-14)
Travel statistically. Walk cool.

To tread in fear on soil of Planet Earth where touch may bring a risk of final breath. What pleasure left in life of lasting worth when gift of love means likely gift of death? Nothing new for Nature's risk averse, they do not dare to breathe and do not dwell, the chance is now no more than slightly worse that contact clears the avenue to hell. Protective clothing now on public sale, go mad, go purchase what you are allowed for dying sick within it just as dead; no need to use a black bag as a shroud. Each for himself, the plastic gowns proclaim a social soul lurks terrified within, now dreads to walk without cocoon, in shame or stand with others where is mortal sin? Best spend and buy and eat, enjoy the food and dare to share a table, bed and sleep. Learn to hide behind your fearful mood, for life this day and next ‒ is viral creep. October 2014
Archived comments for A walk in the valley of life
Kipper on 13-10-2014
A walk in the valley of life
Very timely David, A new terror comes to visit and for now at least there seems to be no answer.
Is this yet another asect of globle warming? I susspect it is.
Michael

Author's Reply:

Mikeverdi on 14-10-2014
A walk in the valley of life
There you go again ...frightening the life out of me HaHa!
Your right, there is so much to fear these days, was it always like this; I remember other times of crisis. Maybe this time its different and the doom mungers are correct....but then again I will always look for the way out 🙂
Mike


Author's Reply:

pommer on 14-10-2014
A walk in the valley of life
I don't think anything will ever change for mankind, there is always another threat.A good poignant poem David.Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:

Texasgreg on 15-10-2014
A walk in the valley of life
Aye! Eat, drink and be merry. Mostly drink. 😉

Greg 🙂

 photo Gunspincowboy.gif

Author's Reply:
Hi Greg, you still toting well - great to see you !!!. Together we will bury Ebola in alcohol -if detergent can kill that wretched bug, why not whiskey of the best - Cheers then - to friendship...David. Apols for delay in reply.


The Sweet Drawer (posted on: 13-10-14)
Genetic disorder beats survival instinct every time.

If you are one of nature's weaklings who is forever condemned to midnight raids on the cache of chocolate biscuits hidden on top of the kitchen dresser, then do not read on unless you are also a masochist. The first mental requirement for certified 'philes' and 'holics' of this ilk is to imagine that your wife does not hear you tiptoe down the stairs in the small hours when you pretend to go and have a quiet pee. I say quiet, but if you are prepared to forfeit your manly pride and sit, of course it can be silent. My father was afflicted, but mother was a deep sleeper and her way of detecting whether there had been secret nocturnal travels was to search for minute crumbs when they made the bed. The penalty inflicted for discovery (also silent) was to hide the cache in a different place. That at least bought some time delay. Usually it took my father at least a couple of night searches to discover the new cranny he had lumbago and could not easily explore below waist height or high up. It was a game without words and also a game without end. She had given up trying to stop him. It would not have taken Mendel more than a day of experiment to discover that this trait is inheritable. The genes are firmly embedded. They stretch from my taste buds down to my colon. How does one cope? One way is to de-criminalise chocolate and at the same time make daytime raids easy. We invented the Sweet Drawer it is large and deep because it was meant to house sensible kitchen objects like saucepans and oven trays. It soon became a treasure trove of all things tempting and beautiful. As you pulled the drawer handle the gold and silver wrappers glistened as though they were sirens on the rocks. ''Taste me, I will delight you'', they sang. I did and they did! The next phase was when I visited the surgery for what I thought was some trivial complaint. In this case it turned out I was going blind. The central vein to the retina in my left eye had become irreversibly blocked. Before you could say ''Mars Bars-Crunchies-Maltesers-After Eights-Cholesterol'', I was on statins and aspirins and an even stricter low fat diet "To protect the remaining good eye", they said. End of story? Fortunately the human brain is miraculous in its ability to rationalise disaster. Not only that, it can turn idiocy into brilliant logic within a few days. Sleep came hard. The sirens were singing softly in my ears. ''Now that your pills are working and your high cholesterol level is subsiding, surely you can have a wee nibble. It won't do any harm. Your right eye is fine. Come down and have a look at us. You need energy''. I crept downstairs. I pulled the handle. The drawer opened and my heart missed a beat.. It was full of shiny objects but they were pots and pans. At least I could still distinguish the difference. Lesson learned? You must be joking. Bozzz. October 2014
Archived comments for The Sweet Drawer
Mikeverdi on 13-10-2014
The Sweet Drawer
HaHaHa! Both Lesley and I suffer from this... We are doomed!
Mike

Author's Reply:
Well keep on taking the statins - I am on a low dose and often miss it - do just enough to keep the magic number low when the annual blood test come around ! It's called cheating death. Thanks Mike.

pommer on 13-10-2014
The Sweet Drawer
Ha,Ha, Laughed off my head as they say. It is Jammy Dodgers with us, more so with Edna then with me.I try to be good, but it is difficult.Like Mike says, we are indeed doomed.Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Jammy Dodgers I have not met but but Jam is my sweet of last resort - trouble is I am always needing a last resort - Meg is focused on making sure that I have the Government's five mandatory portions of fruit and veg each day - such a bore. Thanks for taking the time, Peter......Yours, David

sweetwater on 13-10-2014
The Sweet Drawer
This reminded me of the time when I was about twelve, I visited a friend's house and at the end of her bed hung a shoe bag, absolutly packed with all sorts of chocolate, from then on I aspired to own such a wonderful shoe bag, luckily ( I suppose ) I never did.
It was fortunate you had a wake up call, not the midnight snack kind, or things could have become worse health wise.
Great read, very much enjoyed 🙂 Sue.xx

Author's Reply:
Today we still have a sweet drawer, but all it is allowed to contain is a box of Tesco After Eights and that has to last at least three nights. There is no room for more because it also has to hold about 50 packs of chewing gum for Meg - her weekly supply. Me hard done by, yes and we live in England not America. Tiny drawer. Thanks Sue


Supratik on 14-10-2014
The Sweet Drawer
This reminded me of my father stealing chocolates from places only he could find. And most of the time, his innovative brain thought of keeping them right under my mom's nose! Oftentimes, I find myself doing the same, and the timing is perfect when my wife is asleep. But a Portia that she is, I know she will catch me the next day, which she does. And this continues...
Absolutely brilliant and energising write, every line of it, till the last nibble! Supratik

Author's Reply:
Sometimes parents get blamed for self-inflicted problems, but a weakness for sweet things is not self -inflicted but careless early parenthood - as bad as creating a drug habit. Combine that trait with a lack of will power and the job is done. Sans eye, sans teeth, sans everything - thanks for reading Supratik - and your kind words - in friendship, David

Gothicman on 14-10-2014
The Sweet Drawer
Yes, when I had fairly long car journeys the family furnished me with a "sweeties tin" in the car (Werther's Original Butterscotch), bad move, all eaten in the first hour! Could never resist chewing the damn things! Returned home looking like Billy Bunter! So you're a secret sweetie eater of the worst sly type! The trap of the pots and pans crashing together as you bite your lip and reach slowly down past them to the strategically placed Spangles holding them up is an old trick! You and your weak bladder excuse! Four trips downstairs and only one can be blamed on enlarged prostate, and all that water needed to counteract the sugar intake! I don't eat sweets now, but digestive biscuits..... Fun write, enjoyed...Friend...Trevor

Author's Reply:
Trevor, I can envisage the snow-covered roads through every kilometre of left hand drive Swedish forests littered with Werther's wrappers - a homeward trail of clues leading to a lair of Gothicmen. I now understand why they had to change to right-hand drive - cheaper than clearing up the mess. Digestive biscuits are the last refuge of the...? Well done Sir. Thanks for venturing into 500 words...David

Kipper on 20-10-2014
The Sweet Drawer
Hi David
It's crisps with us. Trouble is we're both at it so there's no one to stop us. We thought that five a day would be OK
Great (and funny) read.
Michael

Author's Reply:
Hi Michael, medically i do not know which is the worse diet. like you, my wife Meg is on chips and chewing gum and I am mainly on 'After eights'. but in my case it is 8 am. Who will go first? Many thanks for generous comment...David


Not the final candle, but (posted on: 10-10-14)
It is now held that the Ebola virus strain came from a rare breed of monkeys - that was recently hunted in the Philippine forests. Revenge? My poem offered as a precursor to humbly sit with Alisons brilliant but sad piece her lesson on the final end-game.

How long before Ebola lands near us? Who counts the death toll in advance of life, awaits the error of the careless mind, or pious madman bent on holy strife. The Filipino forest takes revenge, the enemy, now man, is put to flight, the trespasser pays dearly for his greed, raw folly of the blind still having sight. No vaccine yet that says we will survive, no miracle in prate from men of prayer; while nature takes her toll on those alive that dare to take the risk in giving care. Our medics don protection of a sort, armed only with their will to save us all. Promises of cash, their last resort, brought nothing as the world ignored their call. Now most of us live threatened, feeling fear, our hospitals are ill-prepared, we learn. At ports, stations, airfields, no defence; our future at the point of no return? Still masked, with gloves and goggles in the street, will half of humankind live boldly on; await the kiss of death, the virus leap to snuff the final candle? God then gone? My belief is in science, not prayer. David October 2014
Archived comments for Not the final candle, but
Mikeverdi on 10-10-2014
Not the final candle, but
Not so much a 'Rant' more a dire warning. The unthinkable is happening, the stuff of nightmares and horror movies. Will Brad Pitt leap in and save us all?
I think not, but maybe now it's affecting the rest of the world.....
Mike

Author's Reply:
Not sure of Mr Pitt's qualifications to save humanity, but having produced six children he can at least qualify to provide replacements for the likes of us. In my opinion, using TV to advertise the only isolation unit in the UK capable of handling a few Ebola cases at the Royal Free in London, was a deliberate attempt to fool the public into false confidence. We at at least have some time to prepare, but with the NHS already broke, what hopes are there for cutting the national deficit? Thanks Mike for your support, as ever....David

sweetwater on 11-10-2014
Not the final candle, but
Has humankind become too vast now, I wonder. Throughout the centuries as man has become more numerous some sort of disaster has come along and thinned the population to manageable levels once again, I am wondering if this will be our modern version of the Black Death. After all man himself seems incapable of limiting the population.
Very much enjoyed reading your poem, which sums up all our fears over this frightening situation. Sue .

Author's Reply:
Yes nature will always find a way. Perhaps we will find a vaccine - but who will run out of ideas first - man or nature? Culling is fine until one's name is on the list. I do hope I will be given enough time to write of my feelings when and if - and pray the same for you. Thank you for the comment Sue....XXX...David

Savvi on 11-10-2014
Not the final candle, but
I agree with Sue, Nature will always find a way to cull and humankind will be dealt with accordingly, Bozzz I enjoyed the rhyming scheme and you tell the tale so well, a solid warning for us all. Best Keith

Author's Reply:
Hi Keith, sure, but Nature thrives mainly on man's folly - she hardly needs to lift a finger to find a club with which to clobber us! Since she underwent a sex change (her previous names were Sod and Murphy) she really has it in for us today. Cheers in friendship.....David

Gothicman on 12-10-2014
Not the final candle, but
Another well-written poem, David, more than good enough for the second book. But, after ebola's run rife and decimated the world population, and of course after the Armageddon, sadly, there won't be many left to buy it! Protest and domesday poetry is always serious writing, and if written well like this finely worked rhyme, function as good recorded journalism of topical events, but the end-game, who knows....chances of developing decent, quality human life for all, for anybody... has it ever been possible...we lost the chance of coming even near to achieving it in ? ..... Trevor

Author's Reply:
Well Trevor, you are correct : with society already unravelling in Spain where nurses are refusing to treat Ebola patients, Armageddon lurks sinister. The idea that those who have recovered should do that job is sound sense. Here come the Sierra Leonians? Thank you for your note on future sales of poetry books - just the right reads for the 30% of recovering patients!
Walk tall my friend...David

stormwolf on 13-10-2014
Not the final candle, but
Dear David,
One of the reasons I have given up arguing the toss on the forum is that sadly, facts and circumstance speak for me now.
I no longer have to be the 'whipping boy' (girl)of the rage of those who cannot take the truth of what is happening and shoot the messenger with personal slights.

The poem was your usual mixture of almost dark humour and gritty realism. The last line a personal declaration...
and who could take issue when I think of those poor families praying en mass for mercy then dying like dogs in the gutter.
I am a believer as you know but this is not the venue to discuss and anyway, some things are beyond comprehension.

Stay well and safe my friend

Alison xxx
s

Author's Reply:
Dear Alison, thank you for digging back a notch, equivalent to going the extra mile. Ebola news does not get any less shocking day by day and I guess we have to learn to live with the fear - no realistic alternative. I too have horrible thoughts of people lying dead in the streets of Sierra Leone and those brave nurses trying to cope and dying for their goodwill - and above all, why it is happening. No health checks yet along on Hadrian's wall - ye gods, what nonsense the zombies in Whitehall are up to.
I never bothered with the Forum really, so remained in ignorance of its machinations. Best to just sail along with your many friends and admirers in UKA. Do not take avoidable risks yourself....Yours, David


Google Chemitrails (posted on: 06-10-14)
We rarely have more than three or four aircraft vapour trails a day in the sky - and always from east to west or vice versa. To walk out and see a recently made x-y matrix of trails moving slowly overhead and no planes flying what and why?

When silent whispers creep across the sky in all directions, weave a web of veils, who needs to fly like that - make matrix frames, for these are not exhaust, but chemi-trails. The evidence above was there to see that morning here in Wiltshire's border clime, who plays with mist, what fires the mind to this? Dark secrets will emerge with passing time. Why Salisbury plain, o'er army playground there, whose porkies perched, stay lurking in the skies? Does wicked dust now fall in sunrise air, the chemistry of war in harmless guise? Will germs be used to kill the folk below? Organic plants bear toxic dew, they find, who is poisoning who some blatant lies? ''Conspiracy theory'' claptrap, say the blind. No explanations offered that ring true. Debunking fails to sate enquiring mind. Still questions from the science point of view. Who's paying for the work? No answers come, the Government sits 'schtum', trails don't exist. Imaginings of cranks like you and me, perchance to dream, Red Arrows in the mist? October 2014
Archived comments for Google Chemitrails
stormwolf on 06-10-2014
Google Chemitrails
Thank you for your boldness in posting this David.

'who plays with mist, what fires the mind to this?
Dark secrets will emerge with passing time.'
Indeed!

'Does wicked dust now fall in sunrise air,
the chemistry of war in harmless guise? '

They have experimented on the general populace for decades.

“Conspiracy theory” claptrap, say the blind.
No explanations offered that ring true.
Debunking fails to sate enquiring mind.
Still questions from the science point of view.

Absolutely!

So many questions and the answers are so horrific that most turn off.
For those who are brave enough to delve further look at trans-humanism, global control, nano particles and micro-chipping. No wonder so many are ill now.
Then of course population control re my poem posted today.
Alison x

Well worth a ten not because I agree with it but the skill and incredible mind that wrote it!


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ssfw9tAfBbE

Author's Reply:
Alison, you know well that the original inspiration came from your mind, not mine, but still my thanks for your kind words and number that resulted. Have you looked at the photo Tashs-Ann posted - a comment below. I would be interested to know what prompted your disagreement, for that would have been unintentional. We trundle on...yours, David

stormwolf on 06-10-2014
Google Chemitrails
Oh, and its favs of course!

and before anyone thinks anything. It was not me wot nibbed it! 😉 I am NOT the mystery nibber.

Author's Reply:
From whosoever it may have come - my gratitude - All Cretans included. Oops...David

Mikeverdi on 06-10-2014
Google Chemitrails
Now you have me worried David, your turning Dorset into 'AREA 51' HaHa! Love the writing even if I cant buy the book on this one.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Dear Mike - not buy the book - ah well, a few glasses of Dorset draft. Seriously, late converts may still be accepted in this county - and UKA. Yrs, David

Gothicman on 07-10-2014
Google Chemitrails
Brilliant rhyme poetry as is nearly always as usual for you, David (You weren't happy with the microwave?) What they spray crops and fruit with is probably far more harmful filling our systems with toxics than the risks of internal military blunders killing us all. But then, what of Isis and its plans and capabilities with its mad belief in a rewarding after-life? Would they care about the effects on Nature's ecology and their own children's futures, even if they were to eradicate all infidels? We need a super efficient aerial umbrella against madmen with chemical and germ rockets, and watch for fifth columnists with their secret chemical and, smuggled in, germ stacks!! I'm heading for the North Pole, if only the Russians would let me through! Great and topical poem, hard-hitting by being very readable, needs to be said, no matter what the influential effect of such creative art work. Great read, love your often unusual, but effective, word choice....Trevor

Author's Reply:
Friend Trevor, Unusual words? But surely I am the mundane compared to your esoteric - but we can live together on the same planet - as the subject says - though for how long? is the debate, You did see the Microwave before I deleted it - Snap! It was a remnant from an early collection of kitchen dramatics. And yes you are spot on with your sprayed fruit premise, but at least we know that this is happening and can wash to our imagined successful elimination of the poisons - psycho warfare. But you do seem to know more about the secret poisons than I do - is that a feature of the Swedish alarmist press and is heading for the north pole any wiser than washing poisoned apples? Isis - of course Mr Cameron will deal with them long before they have a chance to harm us! Vote Tory. With respect and in enjoyment of your comments and poetry....David.

Tasha-ann on 07-10-2014
Google Chemitrails
I love the subject matter and your delivery was excellent.

With the invention of the internet and mobile phones capable of taking video it has become impossible to keep secrets these days...

Here's a recent example.

http://worldtruth.tv/busted-pilot-forgets-to-turn-off-chemtrails-while-landing/



Author's Reply:
Hi Tasha Ann, a cyber handshake extended, Thank you for your kind comment and the photos of the stricken plane, clearly a crash landing of an unusual sort ! Also clearly a military plane with hidden cannons in the wings that caught fire unexpectedly or clearly a drunken mid-west crop sprayer or what have you. Everything is always clear ! In friendship... David

Gothicman on 07-10-2014
Google Chemitrails
David, I've just realized I've been guilty of reading domesday prophesies in your poem about simple everyday condensation phenomenon, I'm schtum! I left a steam trail when I cycled home today, and it criss-crossed in places! Hahaha! I don't read the press anymore, just the major items on text-TV, but I've now Googled Chemitrails! Sorry for causing panic in the ranks! But then, I do still have contacts at the Ministry (in their bunker 50 feet under the Thames!) Hahaha! Friend and fellow sufferer...Trevor

Author's Reply:
A bunker under the Thames indeed - your choice between drowning in molten ice from above the equator or from Ebola from below it - I suspect you would survive either or both. My last stanza was to mock the silence of the wolves, not to discount the risk to the lambs. You were not guilty ! Yours...David

Supratik on 08-10-2014
Google Chemitrails
How did I miss this!!! David, I like every word, every line in the poem. Brilliant and measured usage of words. Poems such as these need to be written more and more. I will re-read it many times. Supratik

Author's Reply:
Well Supratik, those are generous words - my thanks indeed for them and for finding me; for news of yet another threat is not always welcome these days. On this matter humour, my usual mode (and what I see in your own work), is not appropriate... Best wishes...David

pommer on 09-10-2014
Google Chemitrails
A brilliant piece of poetry. I am a bit worried going out in the Devon countryside now.I keep seeing these trails.Still, I can always be known as the eccentric foreigner, by protecting myself with an open umbrella whatever the weather.Where will it ever end? Your friend Peter.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Peter for kind words though I fear you would be thought to mock us by permanently carrying an unfolded umbrella - and we would deserve that of course. I also fear that recent storms are but Mother Nature's overture to her winter orchestral deluge - so keep carrying your brolly regardless Mate.... My best wishes, David


My TV weather forecast (posted on: 03-10-14)
I am lying comfortably - awaiting treatment A message of thanks to my favourite weather lady.


I am United Kingdom I lie face upward naked, flat before you, awaiting my caress from a beautiful woman. Sometimes I am bare, bathed in sunshine while my southern portions feel the sensuous sweep of her hand and arm, promising much. Other times, cotton wool, she moves her cloudy swabs across my waiting waist with promises of love and sun between, some wisps of hope. Then her grey carwash flails lash my midriff, the rain to clean my chest. she seeks to purify me with her whip of fury, flatten me with her will. So her light moods come, shampoos softly to whiten me, cloak my precious north in snow, hide the carbuncles of my surface from the gaze of gods, purify my thoughts. Her passion embraces the devolute, they too feel her love and finger tips; in equal measure charm will fall. The words may hurt some days; but with her tender smile ‒ bewitching all. David October 2014

Archived comments for My TV weather forecast
Mikeverdi on 03-10-2014
My TV weather forecast
I've never looked at the weather map like that before David 🙂 I have looked at the weather girls though HaHa! Back on form mate.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike - must be the thought of all that Devon air to come - and being high on the moor will bring me in grabbing distance of her passing hand, whoopee. See yer Mate...David

Gothicman on 03-10-2014
My TV weather forecast
Yes, these weather girls often quite ravishing, dressed to kill, and eloquent with it! When she caresses Dorset, hovering her hand there for awhile, feels extra good eh? Hahaha! Excellent poem, David, yes, you're back on form now again, good rhyme finish to wrap it all up well too. Some wonderful phrases. In my day, the best parties were "Tarts and Vicars" now it's "Weather Girls and IT-Nerds"? Hahahahah! Good one..enjoyed the read.....Trevor

Author's Reply:
You are right on the diction, a pleasure to listen, but that does make the mumbling of the rest of the world on TV a big disaster. A bit - no, moderately deaf to the point that were I capable and she willing I might not hear the 'Yes'! Very sad. I am afraid my feelings for Dorset were submerged by thoughts of that part of my body where all good things (used to) lie - looking at the whole country, somewhere near Bristol, if you get my Rorschach meaning. Thanks for your kind comment - we giggle on....David

stormwolf on 03-10-2014
My TV weather forecast
I read this poem differently. I read the weather-girl as nature. Makes no difference really. You weave lovely tales of the changing seasons but you need to come up to the highlands and see the snow on Glen Nevis or the sunrise over Loch Rannoch.
Then shall you truly know her "tender smile bewitching all"

Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Would that my frame could taste that Glen smile - 'Yes' version of course. I have visited Scotland, but sadly only under the strict instructions of Government - airports, roads, factories, hotels, airports, ditto worldwide. It stifles education and worse, Alison, it makes living at home the tasty morsel of peace everafter - I was a slave, a blind lemming now thankful for having survived. Thank you for reading and even more for the kind delayed effect elsewhere....in friendship as ever, David

ValDohren on 05-10-2014
My TV weather forecast
Never thought the weather forecast was a sexy show - you have thrown a whole new light on it David. Now, where are those weather guys !!!
Val x

Author's Reply:
Oh Val, watch the girls and you will see the caressing movements of their arms and hands. I do not think the the men can match that - it is more a stabbing thrust of the finger with them, but there's no accounting for taste! I wish you well in your adventure...my love....David


The best man? (posted on: 22-09-14)
Confusion in the examination room

Have a rhythm, have a rhyme, but when you have some words to bludgeon, deadline meet, an awkward time, find a friendly poet curmudgeon ‒ he will write the perfect line. Wedding day, eight months too late, slate his jacket, trousered mess, comment on the lady's hat, wonder what's inside her dress. He's the colo-rectal surgeon, got his entry point confused; she the bride, pre natal nurse can't remember being abused. Greet the contour of the burgeon, sure that it will soon disperse; a week today its due emerging, never thought she'd lose 'the curse', forever destined as a virgin. Praise her beauty, smile, composure; praise his choice and skill in closure. Got it right by chance, and gin, the blessing of original sin. David September 2014
Archived comments for The best man?
pommer on 24-09-2014
The best man?
A wonderfully description of may a true situation.I particularly enjoyed the description in the third stanza.Well written David.With friendly greetings, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Hi Peter, my apologies for delay in reply - been very busy on my second book of poems - was very lucky to find a publisher at my age and now he wants more. As to the described situation in the poem, you are quite right - there is no telling what mischief you medical people can get up to !!.
Very best wishes good friend...David

Gothicman on 28-09-2014
The best man?
Must be difficult writing poetry to order, David, as the Muse doesn't like urgency even in an emergency! Presumably you are a regular visitor to specialists of varying descriptions? This very humorous and expertly constructed rhyme on a topical theme reminds me of this recently observed Intern distracted by a near naked sunbathing nurse on the lawn outside the hospital:



Gorgeous!
Lying face downwards
Times capital T barely visible
Her tantalizing smile
(as if there's a man in the moon!)
Safe rear-end surveillance?
No! smack into signpost!
Damn Watsonian effect!
Sabb’d all proctologic
ambition!



Hope this insert works, if you'll excuse the pun...Trevor




Author's Reply:
Bozzz writes:
Thanks Trevor, like you, I still work for the NHS - myself as an adjudicator on multi-£million research projects, and fortunately never meet my colleagues. I think the man in my poem chose his venue better than your intern - poor chap - bastardly thought from the rear on a big lawn. Nice poem too

stormwolf on 03-10-2014
The best man?
David!
The first stanza was perfect and set the course for the rest. Incredibly dry humour that most of us will identify with thinking back 😉

Have a rhythm, have a rhyme,
but when you have some words to bludgeon,
deadline meet, an awkward time,
find a friendly poet curmudgeon ‒
he will write the perfect line.

Your personality and incredible insightfull-ness comes shining through in all your work!
Your daughters-in-law are blessed. I wish I had known such in my time.
Alison xxx


Author's Reply:
Alison - how can I thank you in reply for a comment like that. Truly it is you who are the insightful one - for you read me unerringly - in and beyond the text. In that same intellect sit the springs of your own verses. Grateful that you are here to help us....David


Autumn Madness (posted on: 19-09-14)
Murphys Triple Law "When something has to be done, there are always three other things that must be done first''. The sad story of an English conservatory.


Autumn Madness Mid-summer now long gone, its follies too, But fickle Nature, lying low in wait; her store of mischief in the mind rings true. Surprises? Yes, some good, some bad some late. October wobbly lurks, its symptoms born; belief that sunny days will still appear; no need to wind the awning, mow the lawn for global warming surely must be here. Look, yet again the grass begins to droop, doubled neath the weight of morning dew. Think one more day will burgeon warm and dry before its hibernation date is due? A second crazy sign, now plain to see, the garden chairs sit lonely, waiting friends. The table too, sans cloth, stays hopefully, umbrella flaps, forgotten summer ends. Untreated still, the idiocy stays raw. Force majeure stands knocking at the door. What's to do that should have been, before? Good time to ponder Murphy's Triple Law. Clear garage put table, chairs away Cannot do till jumble items sold Cannot do till 'Bring and Buy' in May Cannot put the calendar on hold Conservatory, the winter greenhouse sighs, the lemon tree, plumbago bush, think ''No''. A hundred bulbs sit dreaming of blue skies, the propagator prays for seeds to sow. In bliss, sit unaware of their demise that coming ill winds lurk, intend to blow. Great Jumble enters, barrowloads invade, refugees from Garageland next door ‒ no UN camps to tend where they be laid, their goods and chattels flood the crowded floor. We dare not stretch nor bend to kiss the leaves of those that need our precious loving breath, no watering can will reach the plants in need, inhabitants cry foul, fear pending death. Fan heater, buried neath the mounting piles has airflow blocked, complains of overheat, but lemon tree expresses glee and smiles ''Med holiday - its time I had a treat''. Indoor jumble journeys undergrowth; next year we will remember Heaven knows ‒ asylum here, the penalty for sloth, in stupid patience, Autumn Madness grows. David September 2014

Archived comments for Autumn Madness
Gothicman on 20-09-2014
Autumn Madness
Fine poem, David, about the negative side of garden and mansion upkeep, but all part of one's special past, whose rituals were a pleasure when young, now easily becoming unmanageable, the penalty for sloth, or just aging! How I miss the Autumn bonfire, like fresh cut lawns, a beloved smell from childhood, but, not allowed where I live. Some wonderful lines and descriptions. What a boon a conservatory must be, where many indoor plants can continue giving visual pleasure and clean air. I've a lemon tree, from pip pinched from fallen lemon at local botanical gardens, but even after 12 years, still no fruit, warm enough, but too little sun, I fear. Thanks for a lovely view of rural Dorset life...Trevor

Author's Reply:
Its really a view of the straw-sucking fools that we are in Dorset - the police view about our county is that it is just an area enroute to the real West country - and no impediments like haycarts or 30 mph limits allowed. We need 20 mph in our village to be able to suck our straws in comfort. Plan for separation next year. Thanks for your time in ploughing through our conservatory - good Heavens, a Nib has arrived. Thanks and Yours, David


If (posted on: 19-09-14)
A short piece that points the meaning of ''If''.


Realisation of the truth is pain when growing old. Sad - one has missed life's opportunities; yet consolation, knowing the disasters that might have been. To be alive, yes, but feel for the dead that met the whims of fate: wrong heart, wrong mind, wrong place, wrong time, wrong colour, wrong god. Feel lucky, feel thankful, but do not rejoice. Think ''if''. David September 2014

Archived comments for If
Ionicus on 20-09-2014
“If”
Indeed, David. There but for the grace of God go I...
Fine poem.

Author's Reply:
Indeed Luigi, it was 'question inviting only one answer'. But on reflection a few more wrongs might have been appropriate - perhaps 'wrong words' or 'wrong food'- but sadly the list is endless. My thanks good friend....David

Gothicman on 20-09-2014
“If”
Yes, David, if .... I had been you instead of me, like J.R. Rowlands, Bill Gates, George V11, Casanova, works both ways! Then as you say to Luigi, if... only I hadn't eaten that second bacon sandwich, drunk those ten beers when I just wanted a quick pint while I read the evening paper, If ...only I was down to 30 cigs a day now! But, a lot to be thankful for too, even allowing for own efforts. If... only I didn't have parents who indoctrinated me with sin, fear, bogey men, revengeful, or worse loving gods, fear of blindness, the tooth fairy....! Had to be said..and sadly the list is endless from all perspectives....Yes fine poem with limitations....Trevor

Author's Reply:
You are right. I should have tried to make the piece independent of particular circumstance - and hence nigh impossible to write. Thanks Trevor.

stormwolf on 03-10-2014
“If”
David,

As a believer, albeit a totally unconventional one, I cannot agree but totally empathise to the sentiments. It's like some saying that God saved their child then why did God not save the next child?

This is where faith comes in. That nebulous, inconceivable, unexplainable surety that some of us hold. I love so much that I have to believe that there IS more but further than that, my life has shown me love, as if to reassure me on the many times I felt I was lost.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison, I can't quite grasp the negative implications you infer. The poem is meant to suggest that moaning about one's past failure to take opportunities is a waste of time and at the same time gloating about ones luck or success is obscene. Sober up and say If e.g., I had not believed in or done this or that, I might not be here. What you define as faith is belief that something or someone is looking after you rather than luck or chance. I do not think my sentiment rules that out. 'If' gives personal choice of belief or non-belief. Many thanks for digging back - much appreciated. Bless you.,... David

stormwolf on 05-10-2014
“If”
Hi David,
I think I have misread this. I find that reading takes a huge amount to concentration so best I only do it a couple of poems at a time ;-(
Re reading I see its saying there but for the grace of God etc so not sure what I was on about now!!! lol
Alison x


Author's Reply:


Tigermen (posted on: 15-09-14)
Since brain to brain messaging has come, my friendly analyst has indicated that henceforth all poetry must be focused on saving the human race ''so oder so''?

The first thing tigerman must do, be clean in post-Napoleon style, get shaven, showered with Love shampoo along with all the other guile. Deodorant squirted under arms, a touch behind each hirsuit ear can add to pheromonic charms and make intention crystal clear. A chat-up method's hard to find, that's where we poets can succeed, expressing hope, with sex in mind, the charming phrase compelling need. The journey then from chair to bed brings oft the trip twixt nip and tuck, but poets know the path to tread, erotic words perfect their luck. For sure you women like to see the well-groomed man with easy tongue, a rough but handsome lad like me, one for whom your bell has rung. Beautied brides for men of lines, natural selection's way, for faces scarred by many tines, perfect lovers - beasts of prey. David September 2014
Archived comments for Tigermen
Mikeverdi on 15-09-2014
Tigermen
You are indeed a word smith...and a smooth talking, silver tongued cavalier to boot! HaHa!
Mike

Author's Reply:
Every word written under the instruction from my friendly analyst - Not a word of it is mine - honest Mum, it wasn't me.

Gothicman on 16-09-2014
Tigermen
Hahaha! Yes, David, a beautifully rhymed message: more wrinkles, more love poetry, more shagging, occasional cosmetic facelifts, and an assortment of those little rubber things. Or if you've got a baby face, more esoteric love poetry and abstract maths, and more laughing! But to save the human race, stop wasting love energy through investing it in the Kim Yong III syndrome ... ! Ahhhh, the non-pencil arm just fell off, both Darwin, and Freud, were right!.....Trevor

Author's Reply:
Trevor, the stub is hurting - I can still feel it, but it is not there. The cruelty of you commenters. I try to re-establish my youth and it is immediately shampooed to oblivion. Thank goodness you have invented one too many Kim Yongs (I believe only 11 currently available), so I am spared at least one of your stock of disastrous syndromes. Grateful for what is left of me to present my thanks. Yours in enjoyment, David

Pilgermann on 23-09-2014
Tigermen
Enjoyed this mucho. Hope that phantom stub stops itching. As for what women like - I won't shatter your illusions!

Author's Reply:
Keen to learn - uncertain as to ability to deliver. My thanks for comment...David


Time is the slavery of the working man. (posted on: 12-09-14)
Hexametric blank verse it was preferred in ancient Grecian times. Experiment. It helped me understand why more modern poets choose pentameter.

The Bells of Slavery Toll the bells of slavery; murder loving sleep. Life wakes cruelly in this world's miasmic mode. Hurry man, you've had your pennyworth of hours, for vertical is good means horizontal's bad. Bed is for the morrow's foolish plans, admit aught else between the sheets is mindless second's thrill. Why are we here? the breakfast thought of sleepless heads. Whose purpose drives what must be done on time today? Not god's, for man it is that rolls the progress drum. The wall clocks croak their daily billion calls to men ‒ ask 'why' and 'how' and 'where', they matter not it's 'when'. David September 2014
Archived comments for Time is the slavery of the working man.
Mikeverdi on 12-09-2014
Time is the slavery of the working man.
I like this a lot David, I will confess I have no idea about the intro stuff...I just like what I like 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
It is a difficult piece because of the six beats not the usual five. But hopefully the message comes through - time is the ultimate boss, the ultimate cruelty - it screams out the beat of industry. Thanks again Mike.

Pilgermann on 12-09-2014
Time is the slavery of the working man.
This is dense with meaning yet light enough to carry through to the end. A stimulating read. I'll schedule some time to get to the marrow!
Great poem.

Author's Reply:
As mentioned to Mike above, it is basically about the cruelty of man to man in that time is the main factor and 'when' the beating rod, the whip. Thank you for your kind words...David

pommer on 12-09-2014
Time is the slavery of the working man.
A very brave try at hexameter.It takes me back to my days at the Uni.Yes,David, it helps to understand modern poets.I liked this piece.Peter.

Author's Reply:
Yes if one is used to shorter line stuff, it seems that the effort to create that extra beat is a bit odd - almost like torture ! Thank you for your good wishes on my longevity in my other poem.
My best, David

sweetwater on 14-09-2014
Time is the slavery of the working man.
This struck a torturous cord with me, brought back memories of shift hours, getting up at 4.15 am, after wasting precious hours trying to sleep, ( still can't sleep through the night ). I very much enjoyed this poem and the way it is written. I agree with Mike, no idea about intro, but if I like a poem that's what it's all about for me, and I really liked this one. Sue 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thank you Sue, your suffering makes me sad, for there are billions like you, nevertheless your kind comment has made my Sunday. The intro was just to state the challenge and on reflection was not necessary - apologies......David


Brain to Brain (posted on: 12-09-14)
Now that direct telepathic communication has been proven possible, I took ten minutes late last night to let my instant ideas flow and honestly, the words below are near as dammit what tumbled out - minor polish, yes. You might well say ''His thoughts would go this way, wouldnt they''.

Brain to brain the direct way, just think what you would like to say. The selfish gene is licking lips, ''They thought that I had had my chips''. Here are my thoughts : Poetry, it may survive, but poets not, for we are such a crazy lot. Ideas squirming through the air, what frequencies are yet to spare? Can any stay as free of sex for thoughts of man are not complex? Survival's been the only one since Adam eyed the morning sun. ''So seeing you, means I demand Say 'Yes' or face a reprimand'', from Darwin's grave the signal comes 'We're running out of pregnant mums'. Will it save the human race or merely lead to man's disgrace? A thought-free zone is on the cards. the only hope for would-be bards. Can one switch reception off? When ideas flow at poet's whim what will she say when thoughts arrive? ''Eff off you fool. I'm not that dim, run now or you will not survive''. David September 2014
Archived comments for Brain to Brain
Mikeverdi on 12-09-2014
Brain to Brain
HaHaHa! I think all poets are the same David, it doesn't mater when the thoughts come; we have to write! Michael Sullivan once said to me 'Normal people see a view from the top of the hill ...Poets see a poem waiting to be written' The problem is the words may arrive at 2am 🙂
Mike

ps. As to sex...an occupational hazard LOL

Author's Reply:
Well at my age one is commanded by a masterpiece (or otherwise) to maintain a respectable bed time, but I am aware that for some 9.30 pm is the start of the evening and for me verging on being completely out of order - as were some of my words. I love the thought of sex being hazard of everyone's occupation - too true - excuses, excuses. Thanks Mike - Thus armed, I will now venture into episode 15....Yours, David

chant_z on 12-09-2014
Brain to Brain
As for string theory somebody respecfully addressed it as "Smoke and mirrors". I kinda like the idea that man was created first because it took practise to create a masterpiece...:). You must have had a great deal of chips...:) Nevertheless great stuff!!

Author's Reply:
Hi Chant, I am sure I am not alone, but strangely I have proof in print that I forecast this 60 years ago in technical detail, but it is still smoke and mirrors as you say. As to creation of the masterpiece, fortunately it was not faultless. I have been married 65 years and the mere thought of having to live with a faultless one would not have been bearable. As to chips, I was part of the team at GEC that made the first transistors in the UK - some still in my cabinet drawer. Likewise early ICs. My thanks for your informed and kind comment....David

pommer on 12-09-2014
Brain to Brain
Well written.I am glad I am not the only one. My words come at the most awful times.Like you I have been married many years, 67 in fact,And could not have lived with a faultless masterpiece.Take care,and may you have many more years together,David.
Peter.

Author's Reply:
Oh, but Peter, I can trump you because not only do my words come at awful times, but they themselves are awful too. Often the combination is unprintable, but UKA seems to survive despite them. Thank you Peter for kind wishes.

Supratik on 13-09-2014
Brain to Brain
This is great stuff indeed! There were lines that compelled me to move up and down (the cursor, if you please!), and I saw myself reading the poem many times.

Cheers!
Supratik

Author's Reply:
See below for my personal psychiatrist's judgement. But you survived the read in total for which I am grateful. I am not sure whether aggravated mental harm involves a custodial sentence - but life in the new era will at least be tunnel-visioned. Thank you for kind comment. David

Gothicman on 13-09-2014
Brain to Brain
This has the capacity and potential to be good with little resistance or fuse-blowing on this integrated poetry circuit, David! No, it's all about sex and the ego trying to be more attractive so as to get more sex, so don't try sneaking off and pretending you've got any sublimated energy to spare for other topics! Anyway, even if the ladies swoon over good romantic poetry, it's compensatory behavior because all poets are effeminate, eunuchs, or ugly, and thus don't contribute to the gene pool to any noticeable extent! Darwin said poets will eventually be an enormous brain, enormous genitals, one short arm, a hand and a pencil. So count yourself lucky! Wonderful humor in your fine poetry, by the way. Trevor

Author's Reply:
I am struggling to come to terms with your inspired Darwinian definition of a poet. True, my prostate is several times normal size (4X nightly), brain may be big but useless, arm and hand still manages groping when required. Not bad at my age. But spare energy is indeed available - if only to recommend you for a knighthood for services to poetic ability to reduce all to sex. Henceforth, thus confined, I also need the spiritual drive to convert my already composed next submission to fall with your tramlines. What have you done? Trevor, my thanks for your parting shot - as always - great fun...David


'Where ere you sit' (posted on: 08-09-14)
Advice to modern English roses Lesson 2. Management of 'Where ere you sit.
Final verse added since publication

Go posh, then it's the sitting room; sofa space brings politesse, but needs must, use a little groom to readjust your silken dress, for knees and thighs that advertise are not considered wise for eyes. Sit firm, the kitchen begs your seat; lean forward then with elbows up for table talk is not complete 'till hands in face can hold the cup. Take care that shoulders do not drop - your plunging neckline! - words will stop. Sit lazy, patio chair is there for legs agley will trump an ace, turn his glance into a stare; you've made your kill without disgrace, a little smile, the job is done, just hope and pray that he's the one. Conservatory conserving what? Virginity? Afraid its not. ''Madeira my dear'', the ideal spot, sit tight and clasp the seat you've got, or find that you have lost the lot; the rogue has made two on the trot. David September 2014

Archived comments for 'Where ere you sit'
Mikeverdi on 08-09-2014
Where ere you sit
I take it the next lesson is 'how to get in and out of a car' HaHa! Oh the joys of 'women watching' I found Amsterdam and Rome best for this. Reading the covert language of sex was the only thing I got an A+ for 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
Body language is not my strong suit and one can only hope to survive by blindly grabbing potential opportunity on a risk-taking basis. Perhaps you have missed your possible vocation as an Agony Uncle. Yours in awe, David

Ionicus on 08-09-2014
Where ere you sit
"just hope and pray that he’s the one."
But if he's not, enjoy the fun!

That extra line is my own advice but am pretty sure that a modern English Rose would have reached that conclusion even before she started using her artifice.
I like the 'thighs that advertise', which I think I have also used in one of my doggerels.
Did I miss lesson 1?

Author's Reply:
Luigi, I assure you that your delicate implication of plagiarism is without foundation and at our level, certainly not in my good manners list. Once written, I can never remember my own poems, let alone anyone else's. That said, I think your extra line is fun, but so far have resisted the temptation to borrow it! By the way, the poem was written in answer to your previous instruction to "cheer up". I decided to replace one that I had already submitted that would probably have provoked a similar response. Watch my space. Lesson 1 was about three months back. In friendship...David

Gothicman on 08-09-2014
Where ere you sit
hahaha, the cynical view of fait accompli, but more your Lucy Clayton finishing school for young ladies version! Yes, even the vicar's teacup on saucer would clink like a dinner gong if a forward leaning breast was to break cover! Has a lovely Victorian charm about this matchmaking on the upper, middle floors. Skillfully composed and scene-set, I like the way you can staccato the flow without compromising meter or rhyme. Excellent, amusing read. Trevor

Author's Reply:
Written to cheer up Luigi and myself. He never needs it but says I do. Ah well, delighted you found it readable - many thanks for encouraging comment - thee and I, we both seem to be sex-driven at the moment. My thanks Trevor......David

Ionicus on 08-09-2014
Where ere you sit
Dear David, there was no implication, delicate or otherwise, of plagiarism. I thought I'd share information from one writer to another. I too forget my poems once written but sometimes words or verses linger in one's head.

Author's Reply:
Too true - my apols. David


Feeling hungry? (posted on: 05-09-14)
The ethical side of country life ? The four-ten is a small shotgun.

Feeling hungry ? Let rook or crow ‒ he'd likely spare a blue tit, steal food that's parked to plumpen precious pheasants, then sure he'll get his blunderbuss and shoot it; He's man and kills whenever chance presents. Pray sun on glorious 12th, the day arrives, poor birds befuddled, fat but fit to fly, hear beaters shouting, flee now for their lives to greet his deadly gunshot in the sky. Let slugs and snails and stealthy centipedes who'd crawl at dusk while he sups rabbit pie, try feasting on his precious lettuce seeds, meet chemicals and prickly ways to die. Let foxes, rats or stray dogs dare to find a manna'd feast upon the compost heap, last meal of the condemned, he's feeling kind, then 'four-ten' raised to bring eternal sleep. Let doves or pigeons light upon the wires, food products fall a-plenty on the car; patience, parking ticket's time, expires, the air gun then becomes his shooting star. Let badgers hunt their worms mid grazing herds; laugh and cough bacterium around, but lo! they've been too careless with their turds, last laugh, in sett, he'll gas them underground. Let harmless bees take honey from his rape, little knowing poisons lurking there. The sucker's sucks make memory escape, forgotten where to go! die anywhere. ''Be irritant or fodder for mankind; short shrift's ungodly medicine applied; we fellow earthly creatures fate designed, felt hunger's pang ‒ found food and so we died''. David September 2014
Archived comments for Feeling hungry?
Mikeverdi on 06-09-2014
Feeling hungry?
Excellent writing as usual David, would be interested to hear what brought this one about; something /someone has rattled your cage. You seem to be saying the food chain is at risk, are they spraying in deepest Dorset?
Mike

Author's Reply:
No Mike, no cage rattling, just a smidgen of follow up from my previous poem about how many living things man can legally kill - just a few practical examples. I am still no animal protection activist and carry enough guilt to fly the colours of a hypocrite. Thanks for being there to witness this admission. Yrs, David

Gothicman on 06-09-2014
Feeling hungry?
Yes, your usual excellent standard, David, such a powerful message in poetical form. Yes, Nature has its food chain, and Stone-Age man probably no exception as many animals would love a taste of us! But, at least then mostly only for survival with no other lust for killing, exceptions appear to be foxes and wolves who'll kill all available, a dozen sheep for example, which happens in Sweden quite a lot. Man's certainly negative affecting this natural ecology though. You posted this before and then resubmitted with changes? Excellent topical read. Trevor

Author's Reply:
Early riser as well as late night writer! You are correct, it is technically a resubmission. In my teens I was as professional as any loan poacher can be - both mother and uncle - and also my brother and recent forbears on both sides were farmers. Know the ropes.
I Liked your reminder that we ourselves were tasty morsels for some fellow creatures - and our corpses are still desirable sights for 'competitors'. Many thanks for your kind words....David.

Ionicus on 06-09-2014
Feeling hungry?
An excellent rendering, David, reading which made me feel like private Fraser of 'Dad's Army' fame: "We are doomed, we are all doomed!" Cheer up.

Luigi

Author's Reply:
Doomed? Unto whom I was rendering was not a concern when I wrote the piece last week and to make a man of so many brilliant parts like yourself feel thus is a crime - I admit. But is to be counted as a success or a miserable failure? I'd best promise to be cheerful from now on and in so doing to be grateful for your kindness in commenting. Know your place David.

Pilgermann on 07-09-2014
Feeling hungry?
David, have you seen "Soylent Green" with Charlton Heston? If you ever want to re-write then perhaps the last line could become "We died and became food."

Enjoyed the read.

B

Author's Reply:


Boots versus slippers (posted on: 01-09-14)
Isis crisis? Paralysis. Ukraine? Refrain. No comment.


Me big US, you are small, it's best that you obey my call. Send fighter planes to where we tell; send foot patrols to walk in hell. Say boo to Putin in Ukraine; when he starts 'shootin'. soft complain. No US boots shall touch the ground, in bedroom slippers pussy round. White House sanction. ''Naughty boys, we'll smack your bottom. make a noise.'' For sex and Hollywood dictate all wars, too little and too late. New blockbuster out to day, shows how they gave Iraq away. The Afgans next to feel the shame, looks like they've done the same again. Would you believe it, one more try ! They'll leave Ukrainians high and dry. Oh balmer days, so quiet so cool, who's the villain? who's the fool? David September 2014

Archived comments for Boots versus slippers
Ionicus on 01-09-2014
Boots versus slippers
Good rant, David. I think the Bard summarised it well:
"...full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing."

Author's Reply:
Perfect summary Luigi - my thanks...David

pommer on 01-09-2014
Boots versus slippers
Well penned David,Doesn't that fool Putin realise that He might lose the 2018 World-cup if he starts any trouble.What a tragedy that would be.Ha,Ha. Take care,
Peter.

Author's Reply:
Hi Peter, I would not be surprised if he waited till the last minute and threatened to cancel the world cup unless he gets all of Ukraine back. Guess what ? NATO would be forced by the Football people to agree ! Thanks for kind words.....David

Mikeverdi on 03-09-2014
Boots versus slippers
These wars are now on too many fronts, we will be back to back with bayonets fixed before long; the hordes of hades are gathering for the feast.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Some say chance built wars into human nature as the best way of population control. With all other species the limiting factor is the availability of food - net result : man controls everything except himself. Back to back bayonets it may be, Mike, but only after the world has become uninhabitable anyway. Catch 22 for the human race.....we termites are fodder for the pride of others......Yrs in Hades, David

Gothicman on 04-09-2014
Boots versus slippers
Well, Putin's really buggered life up for himself, "give a person a long enough rope" and all that! He'll be lynched at the next scam election by the "Mothers of Russian Boys" brigade! Anyway, he's guaranteed "Man of the Year" on the cover of Time magazine! David, on a less serious note, how do you go about writing these well-structured poems on current topics? Do you plan the whole content and then arrange structure and content after that, or do you write as you go, and clean-up edit afterwards? Centering works really well with these short stanzas. Wars exist because they all think they have God on their side, and therefore snubbing out a life is a shuttle service to Paradise, not so bad to sacrifice your life after all! Excellent read....Trevor

Author's Reply:
Friend, you are right - Putin is in trouble from his people - war is the politician's kneejerk response to rumbles from within. It seems that he has decided to make Ukraine his Sudetenland - it is following that pattern - though I doubt, hopefully, with the same terrible consequence - he is a veteran gambler.

Agree, centering is best for haiku and short stuff - but only on optical illusion grounds. As for how do I work topical pieces, well it is pot luck. Think of something that irritates - write a stanza and from then on it is where the fancy takes one. Having written perhaps another three stanzas - rewrite the lot again properly. Then decide it needs another verse - then polish or scrap the lot. Sleep on it, repolish and submit, with perhaps two or three changes before the deadline - it is all very haphazard. Absolutely no pre-planning. All this accounts for a wide variation in quality and high dependence oblique humour - as you yourself wisely observed in a piece a while back.
Many thanks for comments, yours always appreciated......David

stormwolf on 07-09-2014
Boots versus slippers
Hi David
Firstly, loved the title. The short sort of jocular lines worked really well too. As for the dilemmas etc well
" for sex and Hollywood dictate"
Yes, and Hollywood is totally corrupt and has been leading the audiences to accept things that a liberated, critical mind would reject out of hand but mind control, brainwashing from tv and media has all but left the masses in a half zombified state in many instances.
It really is a twi-light world where wars are fought and lives squandered by divide and conquer strategies while the bankers continue to build their bunkers and plot the next catastrophe to befall us all.
Oh well, the sense of futility is often overwhelming. 😩

All the more reason to try to live in the moment but when I hold my grandchildren I cannot help the inner rage against the machine.
Keep on giving us your critical wisdom David. We need it.

Alison x






Author's Reply:
Thanks Alison - your realistic thoughts on zombification might suggest that chemtrails may be unnecessary - just supply the target population with TV sets and DVD players. Project pusillanimous they will call it. Oh - and by the way, if by some tragic error of judgement on human nature, Scotland votes yes, I will be the first Englishman to nominate you as their poet laureate. Or are you that already? I fear that departure will bring long term disaster for both parties, but it may take ten years for that to become clear to all. Let's face it, many of your politicians have been running the UK from London for years galore.... it's Good night Vienna, with optimistic love, David


The engine of first love (posted on: 25-08-14)
Curves seated on curves Why car makers use sex at exhibitions


Lust key turned, ignition starts a roving eye, a mind on fire; a contact made that brings desire. Touch and wait, tickover rate; vroom-vroom to warm the heart, All systems go, will she say No? A gentler touch or double de-clutch? Move up a gear, the road is clear; more revs applied, no place to hide. Let engine race to match the pace. The brakes ignored till both have scored. A red line crossed, the world has lost a maidenhead on backseat bed. Hope for the best, a union blessed? A checkered flag for all to wave, new human being to love and save. Go buy the car to get this far. David August 2014

Archived comments for The engine of first love
Pilgermann on 25-08-2014
The engine of first love
Just one question: Why would we need to save the new human being? Like the flow and the echo of lust turning into a gentler emotion.

Author's Reply:
Hi Pilgermann, my thanks for your kind comment. Motor manufacturers do not supply morning after pills, so I presumed that, since the hymen was broken, a child would result. Of course I could be wrong for many reasons....David

sweetwater on 25-08-2014
The engine of first love
Always wondered why cars need virtually naked females to advertise them, to me if the car is any good it should stand on it's own merits. But perhaps I am just being sensible and practical. Having read your poem however I can see what they are getting at! 😉

Author's Reply:
I agree that your philosophy on car purchase is the correct one, but some young men and women seem to fancy themselves as being seen in fast flashy sporty cars - I guess it's an image that is being sold as much as a car. Same on TV ads. Thanks Sue......David

Mikeverdi on 25-08-2014
The engine of first love
HaHaHa! no explanation needed for me, another gem from the pen!
well done David
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike my friend - both for the comment and the expert advice on sex within four wheelers. David.

Kipper on 26-08-2014
The engine of first love
Oh yes David, makes my old Lada pale into insignificance.
Your choice of words and line spot on.
I like it. What's not to like?
Michael

Author's Reply:
But Michael, surely the make of car is less important than 'making it', as it were. My thanks ...David

Gothicman on 26-08-2014
The engine of first love
Hahaha! David, I was never wrong, one must trust to a lifetime of specialized study. I like this mechanization of sex on sleek wind tunnel lines revving to crescendo with the coolant oozing from the radiator cap!


Incidentally, have you seen the picture of my model car on my account page...three months hard work on retiring; made from cast scrap silver and brass. Plastic parts made first and then molten silver poured into the Delft clay moulds, and then brazing and filing and polishing; weighs 7 kilo. This was my prototype original which I've kept.It's got leaf springs and brake hubs etc. Two others of Roll Royces to scale and mounted on plinths I sold for £4000 each! Imagine Cheryl Fernadez-Versini lying naked in the backseat, now that is car passion personified! hahaha! Another well-written poem giving great pleasure......Trevor

P.S. I've turned the prototype car round now and taken a shot, some people prefer the back end view!

Author's Reply:
Oh, yes, the overflowing radiator cap, I forgot that - thank you Trevor. Had to be content with the tell-tale drips of of black stuff on the road afterwards. Loved your 1918 Mars exploration vehicle - a seriously great achievement based on scrapheaps worldwide? You never mentioned your time as a motor car salesman - another potential Archbishop of Canterbury perhaps? Yours aye, David.....P.S......
My expert sex advisor and colleague said that the only satisfactory back seat method was with male seated normally facing upwards, but his was a Rolls - not thus named for nothing. D.

Ionicus on 27-08-2014
The engine of first love
The current fashion for cars is one of reproduction, David, so you are absolutely right in pointing out the likely outcome but one can avoid unexpected accidents by wearing well tested driving gloves. I am sure the occupants of that car, although lying down on the job, had the measure of the jet engine and passed the test with flying colours.

Author's Reply:
OMG Luigi, I nearly pressed the abuse button - by accident of course. Like Andy Murray, I am always needing a new trainer - very old dog needs ancient tricks - you are obviously an excellent future possibility. ... Yrs David

stormwolf on 27-08-2014
The engine of first love
Ah...reminds me of my mis-spent youth. How wonderfully over powering were those emotions when just discovering the joys of sexual attraction and back seat fumbling.
I can still smell the leather seat and feel the hot breath lol

OK better calm down now. I bet you were a right charmer David. Good looking to boot and your wife's still a beauty!

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Sadly there is not yet a car designed for good simultaneous sex and cruising at 70 mph - its all a bit awkward. Perhaps Google's new driverless car will solve the problem? I think I was a better driver than charmer, but all charming men would say that wouldn't they ! It's you are the charmer around here anyway.....XXXXXXXX David (OTT as usual). Thanks Alison

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Thou mayst kill? (posted on: 22-08-14)
Im not an animal rights activist. ‒ just curious and shocked.

.Who may die legally at the hands of man? Each line creates two pictures, tells brief stories Licensed to kill - our 'selfish genes' at work. Mouse in trap. Fly on paper Bee on rape. Fox with hen Dog in sheep. Bird in hand Cow in abattoir. Mole in hole Ant in powder. Slug neath boot Stag from copter. Cat in bucket Rat on bait. Badger in sett Hare in snare. Moth in cloth Wasp in beer. Rook on road Grouse on wing. Lamb in van Fish in net. Shark in bay Hen in house. Tiger in zoo Man with gun. Woman stoned Lad with fag. Lass with dram and the rest. -------------- Now tell me, fellow creatures all that live in dread, just how you felt when you were very nearly dead? I fought in vain, numb with pain, frozen in fear, very queer, have no breath, resigned to death, stricken dumb, 'Good bye Mum'. May 2014

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stormwolf on 22-08-2014
“Thou mayst kill”?
Incredible David.
I have fought an inner battle since becoming aware at an early age of the horrors of so much needless or perhaps thoughtless death.
I learned to give thanks to any animal or bird who died to give me food as the native Americans used to but that does not assuage the secondary guilt of the factory farming. Not least the torment of knowing that all animals are sentient creatures and pigs especially are so intelligent.
If I dwelt on the cruelty here I would go quite mad.
I never kill anything now, no matter how small, even ants.
The only creature I will reluctantly kill is a wasp and that would be a last resort.

I know I am guilty though as I still eat some meat or poultry but my diet is mostly vegetarian.
I think respect is really paramount. If an animal is going to be sacrificed for food the abattoirs need to be strictly and compassionately run.
I am not a townie who does not understand life and death. When living in the country my farmer neighbour, a big muscular son of the soil would still almost shed tears when one of his heifers had a stillborn.
That's what many lack. True integrity and respect for the way of things in this screwed up world.
We are all in the cross-hairs of something. Freedom is a gift and we all have to surrender in the final equation.
My idea of heaven has a huge population of animals.
Alison x

Author's Reply:
To ignore, to be aware, to understand, to care, to act - the five stages of intellect. Alison you are at level five while I am struggling between three and four. What are man's main motives in killing apart from food? Fear of physical harm, fear of damage to property, fear of impediment, irritation, desire for possession of beneficial features (e.g., for clothing, cosmetics.)
In all of these risk assessment and the degree of adverse outcome are needed for judgement. Sadly we are not all able or willing to devote the time to enable good decisions - lazy, pre-occupied, prejudiced and so on. There are also considerations of circumstance - climate, location etc. Nuff waffle - my thanks for your visit and your thoughts that triggered mine. We are indeed fellow travellers....David.

Gothicman on 23-08-2014
“Thou mayst kill”?
Well, I'm a veggie, David, apart from the odd chicken I masticate in the wife's curried efforts. Also a bit squeamish like Alison, feel bad even about clipping a living plant down in size when binning it (compost sorted, I hasten to add). I live now on porridge, salads, nuts, and berries and feel so much more fresh and alert for it. The extent to how much modern Man has abused and mistreated the animal world in the name of personal progress and profit begs belief. And mountains of meat in storerooms and three-quarters of the world starving and mostly due to exploitation and depletion of their habitat. And now the caliphate is growing and on the march......! Skillfully worded and cleverly composed poetry, David, and I always love your endings, poignantly amusing and here in the form of the ultimate protest as you join the slaughtered, at least with one's own death concluding the struggle for the right to life. Great stuff, Trevor

Author's Reply:
Thanks for your kind comment I greatly admire your approach to food Trevor. Oh how many compromises have I made with Mammon each time I look at the meal before me. So many of our habits and pleasures are those formed in childhood. No child is born religious but usually becomes so under parental persuasion - to a great degree it is the same with food at home and school, but then the need to earn a living creeps in and being "normal" foodwise can form part of the conformity pressure pattern. Here speaks the cautious coward in food matters and he has to try and make up for that in other respects. I love everything as long as it is followed by something sweet. I wonder what caused that? ...Yrs, David

Ionicus on 23-08-2014
“Thou mayst kill”?
You really have thrown the cat among the pigeons with your searching questions, David. The first line of the poem floored me: is there a 'legal' way of killing anyone or anything? I know that licences to kill are granted, especially in the case of wars, but are they actually' legal'or are they so labelled to excuse one's actions? The reasons for the carnage that you have described can be attributed to many causes, self-preservation; dog eat dog and what Darwin described as the survival of the fittest.

Should I feel morally responsible for the self-destructive deeds of

"Man with gun. Woman stoned


Lad with fag. Lass with dram

and the rest."?

There is a lot to ponder in this challenging piece of yours.

Best, Luigi



Author's Reply:
Of course not Luigi, but think worldwide - police can legally shoot a man with a gun in UK, a woman can legally be stoned to death in Iran, Cigarette and drinks manufacturers may market products that kill. If it 'aint illegal to do so, man can kill it. But yes, war changes everything. Each of us must make choices if and when they arise - but I agree that normally we cannot feel morally responsible for the self-destructive actions of others. But if for example you are asked to vote on whether tobacco products that have no beneficial effects on health should be totally banned full stop - how would you vote? Yet you might decide that alcohol products can contribute to health in some circumstance so you would not vote for a ban. All is personal opinion. Cheers...David !


The Daydream of Camerontius (posted on: 18-08-14)
Government again failed to underestimate the speed .. The man who forgot that alcohol is deadly.

''I woke to find my red box clear of junk, that's never happened in my life before. Have Milliband and Co just done a bunk? But who's that banging loudly at the door? I hear some shouting then a rat tat tat. My bodyguard claims there's a bearded man, he wants to move in now and have a chat; says he's Caliph Lord Boko Haram. I don't remember making him a peer, nor seeing him in cabinet this week. So many different faces - let him in, I'll sort him out ‒ so early what a cheek ! AK 47? - put that down, you really should have left it at the gate. Now what is it you want? the English crown? I'll call the Palace now you'll have to wait. Please don't point that silly toy at me, I am the PM, did they not explain? Handcuffs? I'd better call the BBC, what joke is this it's going a bit too far. All right I'll come, don't hurry me like that and why are bodies lying on the stairs? A moment while I call my friend Obama, or Theresa Maitresse, Home affairs. She's dead, you say oh surely not a stroke, I know there's just a hint towards obese, yesterday no problem when we spoke nor sign of any deadlier disease. On second thoughts, I'd better talk to George. Oh ! He's dead too, you're joking now of course; Next you'll tell me all my mates are gone. Good job my sense of humour is on song. You wish for me to say my prayers like them? Look - this charade has now become a bore. Please take the muzzle from my wretched ear, I've vaguely heard your name somewhere before. Let's have a dram''. Camerontius' dream - the end. David August 2014
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Mikeverdi on 18-08-2014
The Daydream of Camerontius
There you go again, You need to write for a broad sheet; get these thoughts out into the main stream LOL. You seem to be borrowing from 'Willi the Shake' on this one...maybe its just me 🙂 In one verse I detected a line strait out of Michael Caines mouth from Zulu (miss quoted of course) The 'Don't throw bloody spears at me' line. You make your point so well David, and still make it all enjoyable.

Mike

Author's Reply:
Hi Mike, well the poem is just pointed fantasy and a jocular attempt at what the 'In another world' incumbent might say and do in such a situation. Broadsheet? - please buy one and I will offer my services free - oh I see - you want me arrested aha ! Thanks mate ....Yours, David

Gothicman on 18-08-2014
The Daydream of Camerontius
Wonderful, entertaining and cleverly composed poetry, David, with very dark and topical undercurrents, I fear. Bring on the Home Guard, Dad's Army will be all we can muster when the time comes!! Extremely well written with so many funny lines right up to the "end of civilization as we know it" nightcap! Ebola, or an even nastier end if refusing to convert, not an attractive prospect in deepest Dorset!

Excellent poem.

Author's Reply:
Well thanks Trevor,you have taken the points exactly, though I am quite sure the poem does not deserve all you say of it. You must have some prescient powers over the beheading scenario - I am impressed ! Dorset snores on. .....David

Ionicus on 21-08-2014
The Daydream of Camerontius
Very topical and entertaining, David. Written with your usual panache and flare.

Luigi

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi, I should have said the same of yours. Of course I wrote mine several days before the beheading and reading it today my wife Meg though it in bad taste. Too late, but apologies if you felt that too. Yours, David

Pilgermann on 04-09-2014
The Daydream of Camerontius
This is a fine piece of writing. Dark undertones to the humour - just the way it should be.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Pilger, it was intended as a short essay on the way a top level British establishment politician or civil service might attempt deal with this sort of situation - stiff upper lip equals folly.


The rhyme statistics (posted on: 15-08-14)
Free verse poets alarmed by sharp rise in rhyme rate. Gove sacked for advocating poems that can be recited easily from memory

The curse of verse, the crime of rhyme, it reappears from time to time. The crime of rhyme, the curse of verse is also getting slowly worse ! The Government, worried by the trend deplores each author's rhythmic piece, are hoping too that scan will end and plan to set up 'rhyme police'. ''Dear Mr Bozzz Your piece contained a rhyme today, Now pack your bags, but travel light. You vill be shown the Free Verse way, proper poetry get it right. Refuse ! You'll start a longer stay; our padded cell is yours tonight.'' ''Good bye Mum - I love you''. David August 2014
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Mikeverdi on 15-08-2014
The rhyme statistics
David.....we need to talk. This habit you have of writing in Rhyme LOL
I thought it was me that was doing it all wrong HaHa!

Author's Reply:

Andrea on 15-08-2014
The rhyme statistics
Don't worry David, all my doggerel rhymes too 🙂

Author's Reply:
Hi Andrea - I am hoping for a unisex boot camp - see you. XXX....David

Bozzz on 15-08-2014
The rhyme statistics
Mike, Just thinking about it, you would make an excellent member of the Rhyme Police - provided you will act as an informer spying for the infamous RTG (Rhyme Terrorist Brigade)- of which I am leader.

Author's Reply:

pommer on 15-08-2014
The rhyme statistics
I wouldn't worry David. I shall continue writing in rhyme as long as i want to. Love your poem.Take care.Peter.

Author's Reply:
Delighted to have your company Peter. We can have an 'organ recital' - which is what my sister calls the sort of discussion we old folk often have about our respective ailments. Cheers....David

ValDohren on 15-08-2014
The rhyme statistics
Oh dear, guess I'll be joining you in the slammer David, along with a good many others ! Very amusing write, enjoyed reading.
Val xx

Author's Reply:
Hi Val, Yes there may be a few of us old fashioned dinosaurs milling around in open prisons - hope the food is enough to keep our brains rumbling along. Rhymesters of the world unite. Yours, David

Gothicman on 17-08-2014
The rhyme statistics
As long as there's humor, protest and sweet joy and sorrow, to be used with good effect, then rhymists will always proliferate and this poetical form will always be the learning ground and understrata in developing accepted rules for all new forms of poetical expression, and, anyway, the same sounds echoing repeatedly will always, of course, appeal to our speech motor neurones, like the jungle beat to our tribal forefathers! The village plod can snooze comfortably back at the nick with his big truncheon dangling down out of harm's way! I've answered this fugitive-admission, also in an amusing way, out tomorrow!

Author's Reply:
My friend, delighted you are back. I suppose we rhymesters must be happy with a reasonably generous 'licence to write' bandwidth - enough to keep Plod asleep. "Humour, protest and sweet joy and sorrow" - what else in life is there? Sufficient for the beat-driven Precariat ! Look forward to your piece tomorrow....Yours, David


The Word (posted on: 11-08-14)
When leaders bury their own sanity in rubble, do adjectives matter? Disproportionate becomes 'The Word.

Now we know the truth at last, we've been mistaken in the past and thought a lie was just a lie, but Lo ! - it's in beholder's eye. Israel says 'them'; Hamas the same; the dead cannot care who's to blame. Our Baroness implies a threat that Muslims all, will be upset and in the long run, make us pay if we don't use 'The Word' today. Far better back an even view on what each side has yet to do? OK ten folk, one by one ‒ perhaps two minutes in between, But kill all ten at once obscene? What else can 'disproportion' mean? . How does one sit upon the fence when the battle gets intense? 'Regret', 'condemn', we've tried before, no one believes us any more. Sell arms to all and then deny, even knowing that's a lie. Send food to victims, weep, console. Where lurks the British nation's soul? Not Canterbury, but Downing Street where Eton's fools prepare to meet. Arms contracts with the sides that win determine what is said in spin. The Cabinet at Peter's gate. Apologies now far too late. ''We said our Government 'deplored', please - just for me - a bed; half board?'' ''Not bloody likely'', I suspect, or stronger words to that effect. David August 2014
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Tunnels (posted on: 04-08-14)
A different bypass, a different warning. No poet is safe.

Tunnels are for rail and road, it's said, for prisons and for badgers, now for me. I need a safer journey from my bed to reach the kitchen, never press a key. The office lies directly on my route, the laptop beckons, digit pheromones try to lure me from my food pursuit; coffee's ready, toast in browning zones. A schizophrenic mind is bad for rhyme, temptation means acceptance by the fool. The coffee's cold, the bread's hit coking time, no messages an idiot loses 'cool'. A year it took to dig beneath the house, an inch a day, dessert spoon scraping hard. What labour for my wife, she'd never grouse, such loyalty such comfort for a bard. One day I had a call out of the blue, I downed my toast and leaped across the floor; I recognised the voice ''It's you know who, I'm leaving you forever; dug next door''. All poets now should check for missing spoons, the world beware of fresh cuckolded loons. David July 2014
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Animal madness? (posted on: 01-08-14)
The dogs of war Oh Charles, what are we doing in Gaza?


In olden days the dogs fought tooth to tooth attack; the winner gained his access to the ladies in the pack.Then dogs made deadly war while ladies, de rigeur, delighted seeing destruction of each opposition cur.
Sadly now it's nature for dogs to kill the lot. Oh Darwin, what a bloody mess 'survival' has begot.
Thus 'evolution' rides, contaminating earth. The human race will die before God's had his money's worth.
David July 2014
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Poetic block (posted on: 28-07-14)
It comes to all of us, but the NHS has a cure.

No voice from the inn, no room in the brain, a block in the system has started again; the memories full, but refusing to drain, there's thoughts in the mind but they will not cohabit. The dog's on a leash and he can't see the rabbit. Lobotomy beckons, the pricing of sanity's over the odds for humble humanities. Runs of the gods, a laxative cortex cheaper by far than a thalamus vortex. But visit the doc and pick up a cure, the NHS fixit, the cheapest for sure. ''Pull yourself together man''. David July 2014
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chant_z on 15-08-2014
Poetic block
Serenity behind the wit I reckon. Great piece! Trust me; I'm not a doc...

Author's Reply:
Thanks Chant - serenity, well I do welcome the kind thought and yes I have never suffered and been lucky at that. You must be a doc !.....Yours ay, David


Referendum on Europe. (posted on: 25-07-14)
Remember the infamous Times headline "Fog in the channel. Continent isolated." Best to vote' stay in' this time or we will be the isolated party. But a 'Half empty glass prediction fears the worst.

The voice of the people is frail, the 'Yellow Press' carries the blame, proprietors known to be mad and wish for their readers the same.
Their method is 'Go for the groins', the drip feed of sperm holding sway, what pop singers do with their loins are the headlines that matter each day.
Drug stories on every page drowning us all in inanity, football and sex are the rage in the hope of creating insanity?
Well they've done a great job, must be said; when ignorance reigns, who complains? With the public improperly fed, referendum with absentee brains?
We've voted to leave! Hold your breath. Fog in the channel, deplored,
"Britain now facing slow death Advice of one poet ignored."
David July 2014
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What do flies do in winter (posted on: 18-07-14)
To the best of my knowledge, this strange poem is free of hidden underlying content, schizophrenic double-entendres and insulting sub-agendas. No lyrical beauty. The flies an endangered species? - may the responsible Lord bless and preserve them.

Weight for weight we know they are far more intelligent than us on every score, fly here to there - and gravity ignore, while we just drag our feet from floor to floor. When winter comes, with nothing else to do they're off to visit terrorists guess who? Boko Haram in Africa - for what? - to learn the art of hiding from the swat? There's special training too regarding zappers. Yezidi flies fear blue flee like the clappers, teach aerobatic skills avoiding touch on ultra violet lamps, high volts and such. But sticky papers hung, are feared the most for once they land, means giving up the ghost. The brighter ones control instinctive nerves, they learn to light on flatness, never curves. In spring they're busy wending slowly home, plane by plane they hop from drome to drome, avoiding man by travelling in the hold, yes, many die en route can't take the cold. Survivors cling to baggage when they land, pass through customs free of contraband, head for British kitchens far and wide, migrate to find the food our cooks provide. They say there's fewer flies, they're on the wane. ''Endangered species''! Greens launch their campaign. Now safely on the UN sacred list, no wielding of 'The Times' with angry fist. David July 2014
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Low treason. Betrayal of youth. (posted on: 14-07-14)
Some thoughts on life. Once again we are being told what, in our hearts, we knew already.

'Come vote for me'' expectantly he cries. 'For I will solve your problems at a stroke. Be better off by tuppence', twice he lies. He seems a fairly pleasant sort of bloke. Just the man you think will speak for us, a chap with smiles for free to all the world you'd meet on top of any London bus, but what flag will he fly, as yet unfurled? Kisses kids that mums think 'He's alright', not miss the chance of any 'photo opp'. Some bottoms pinched at parties late at night, convivial slaps that border o'er the top. On TV shows his magnetism grows, skirts were made for lifting, why not he? All friendly fun, no harm the saying goes; the extra touch that others will not see? Then firmer grip and mission creep arrives, seduction on the menu tempts his power; each day engraves his greed on younger lives, the victims fearful, take what comes, they cower. Complaints are made, dismissed by those who know, mere games and fun, not serious, ignore. Police advised to keep the profile low, ''Calm down dear, we've heard it all before''. The rest we ken - too late - the damage done, lives are wrecked none dared to spill a bean. Decades on, the hue and cry's begun, the Butler-Sloss types start to intervene. No end to this, a human trait lies low, some selfish genes stay rampant, unrestrained, while laws with good intentions have a go. The root cause lives within us, yet untamed. David July 2014
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Art for Mike, breakfast with Alison? (posted on: 11-07-14)
Will those who criticise modern poets for writing mainly for each other, please note.

Some things in life which may not ever change that age, ability and brains don't fear, remain within the book on every page. Porage is but one of mine not beer. More ways to make the gruel than kill the cat? The microwave is messy, time it right; a second more and walls are lined with stuff; a second less, the oat ears hard to bite, footballer's shoulders can be nigh as tough. A saucepan on the hotplate stirred for aye calms the nerves, rewards the palate too, sniff the joy of Scotland til' you're high, a perfect sticky mix becomes the brew. Slow oven is the sleeper's last resort. Soak overnight and wake to find it 'gawn', like dormice on a train, give not a thought until the destination knocks at dawn. Vote , ''No'', I beg my kilted friends up North for Cameron will, if you go on your way, tax each oat with half a groat - henceforth. All breakfast hopes in England gang aglay. Why do gentle thoughts beguile us so? What turns nonsense into lines apart? Can secret words that gust from Plymouth Hoe help make a porage poem, a work of art? David July 2014
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Sad tale - better not mentioned (posted on: 07-07-14)
Choosing a difficult two-syllable word like 'terrorist' and attempting to rhyme both syllables at the end of each matching line - have fun - difficult - better next time.

At last I've found an error missed; the editor had failed to spot my poem on the terrorist, who'd killed his wife and went to 'pot', became a well-known ceramist then took to drink but lost the plot. The world was filled with stellar mist the night the lightning came and went it burned to ash his cellar list each barrel shed it's sediment enough to make the fella' pissed and ruin my experiment.
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The Footprint. (posted on: 04-07-14)
There is loose talk of extending the Carbon Footprint tax to the obese, to households and to landowners - it's all about energy consumption and methane output.

The carbon footprint, now a mortal sin. To live with energy we need to eat, so cooking surely puts us in the bin, a taxable offence to feel replete. Obesity, a treatment found at last. No need to slim or exercise or play just make sure that you get rich enough to pay your Fat Cat taxes on the day. Behoves us all to shower but once a year, a century of itching starting soon. Deodorant sales sold out the shelves are clear, the stench of man reported on the moon. Parliament held on the pitch at Lords; no brollies for the Opposition team; two umpires stand to monitor discords Hansard in the scorebox, keeps it clean. The Queen's speech relayed from her coach, Which, well away, at deep fine leg remains. The captains may not make direct approach, Question Time reserved for when it rains Pity too the lazy burping cow, each munch puts methane in the sodden sky. the poor girl unaware of why and how her both ends hang the farmers out to dry. The emptied fields, no milk for cups of tea. The world will end if tax is put this way, no breaks allowed for likes of you and me; just hope the fools in charge will go away. David July 2014
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If there be gods. A call to all who believe. (posted on: 30-06-14)
If there be gods, they need to act now, for without them on our side, ignorance and 'laissez faire' will let Mammon destroy mankind. But who is Mammon? a touch of you and me - that's the problem. If there be none, that's tough. We will just have to work harder to save ourselves.

The climate is a-changing day by day, hotter cooler wetter, perfect storms; wind and waves that sweep our towns away, parameters now far from weather norms. We've had the warmest ever May, now said. Still deniers pout their foolish claims; 'The sun has merely squeezed a pimpled head, the pus from winter's acne put to flames'? Mammon flouts each climate warning sign, cheaper frack than take the greener line. When pushing comes to shoving, chips are down, politicos shed skins to catch the bus. Flat-earthers stay to hold denier's crown, the sun goes round the earth, t'was ever thus. But where are gods in this unholy mess; do they side with science or sit with clowns? Money drives as blinkered minds obsess, 'Bad weather's just a blip in ups and downs'. How say the angels? Who from pulpit speaks? No guidance from the church nor even leaks. When survival of a loved one is at stake there's prayer that god may act upon the scene. When mankind is exposed to death on earth does 'free will' mean that god can't intervene? What logic in the mind can conjure that? What soul can find salvation in such thought? What afterlife will they then have to live? The best laid plans in heaven brought to nought. At last through silence, now it is revealed as man destroys our present Earthly life, gods stay neutral in the solar field, seek not to intercede ignore our strife. Perhaps, as it is clear they do not care, an atheist be, or die from 'laissez faire'? David June 2014
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Mikeverdi on 30-06-2014
If there be gods. A call to all who believe.
David, for me this is one of your best; it's you doing what you do best and telling us all where it's at! You are of course totally right. Countries are too busy fighting each other to heed the warnings, it's sad as the world will die choked on man made vomit, you should have gone into politics.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Well Mike, if I had gone into politics and said this sort of stuff I would have died of tweetitis and, as you have said, been carted off as a dangerous terrorist. Thank you, as ever your friend, ...David

stormwolf on 30-06-2014
If there be gods. A call to all who believe.
Well David, You know my thoughts on it all.

When survival of a loved one is at stake
there’s prayer that god may act upon the scene.
When mankind is exposed to death on earth
does ‘free will’ mean that god can’t intervene?

One of the age old questions for which we really have no answers while inhabiting the physical. The older I get, the more i realize, the little I know.
It was all so much easier as a young enthusiastic but questioning woman who went to church and thought I had it all sorted till I fell out with the dogma. (then the minister!) lol

What I do know is that the lunatics are running the asylum and it's going to get a 'hell' of a lot worse methinks.
Alison x


Author's Reply:
Well Alison, I did not realise that the innocence of your youth was proselytized to that extent - a crime against humanity almost on a par with kidnapping boys to make soldiers in Africa. We are asked to be horrified at that, yet the same principle is applied to millions of children worldwide daily in the name of religion. Well done to emerge as you have done. Agree the predictions are not good for mankind. I admire your interest in the metaphysical field, but cannot escape my nuts and bolts upbringing ! Still in chains you might think ...Love, David

chant_z on 01-07-2014
If there be gods. A call to all who believe.
Great piece. Just maybe there's a stellar clinic where angels fear to thread. (if so that's a shame indeed).

Author's Reply:

Thank you Chant, but I fear the clinic bears the stamp of certain sections of mankind and is an earthbound phenomenon. Nice concept though....best wishes, David


When I die (posted on: 30-06-14)
Ever the optimist, but not welcome at the gates.

When I die, say not of me ''He went peacefully". Oh no, not he , ''In rage and anger, saying death denied him''. For on his gravestone - the dream, ''He planned to live forever. All are grateful''.
David July 2014<,

Archived comments for When I die
Mikeverdi on 30-06-2014
When I die
Clearly not about you David 🙂 Anyway we still have our lunch to do before either of us pops off HaHa!
Great writing old friend
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike for kind support. About me in the sense that I will fight. Present situation a bit wobbly but will know more in a week about the threat. Yours, David.
P.S. Need your postal address to send book please - first batch arrives tomorrow.

stormwolf on 30-06-2014
When I die
Hi David,
I agree with Trevor that the centering works great as it does look like a tombstone.
I personally hope you give the grim Reaper the slip for many a long year yet!
Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Thank you Alison. Will do my best, but who wants to live forever? I remember a great poem by Butters with that title. Please check my comment above for explanation of the joke against myself which seems to have backfired. XXX...David







Old Kate (posted on: 27-06-14)
Old Kate. A poetic fragment. Written 1947 (When I was four, my mother deserted me. Kate, oldest of 14 in Dublin, came as a 'temp' and stayed 40 years as carer for me and my younger siblings. She became my real life mother and later left to start a new home of her own. Great imagination she had)

There is a boarding house in Bloomsbury where pale youths roam, that caters for the intelligent and writer's tome. With crust and dripping staple in the diet, the landlady blarney and loquacious, keeps her tenants quiet and succours inspiration through the angry quill of hunger. Interview this citizen to find that she can weep, yet with her woes may call to mind that long ago she won the Irish Sweep. T'was a fine West End hotel she had then, with boys to leap upon each button's pressing and a dozen chefs attendant on the potato pot. Fine until one day the Government unearthed a 'plot', laid bare the painful detail of her past; of how she'd cooked for the notorious 'Mr Boswell', and made pies for his wayward children. Old Kate will tell you of days not so long ago, of queues never longer than a mile for bread, and how she loved a butcher's boy in Sainsburys. Sad, she is now. but never humble in her own domain. Content to toss a careless crumb to her intellectual lodgers and laugh at their asking for more. David December 1947
Archived comments for Old Kate
stormwolf on 27-06-2014
Old Kate
So David, you have been writing poetry (good poetry! ) since Adam was a lad. I cannot say how much I admire you and your incredible mind but also your great human-ness (is that a word? )? humanity...anyway, a heart-warming poem.

I had someone along the same lines. She came to help in the house when the kids were small and she became like a member of the family.
I loved her very much indeed. She died several years ago and I hope she knew just how grateful I will always be for her input in my life over the course of several years.

Perhaps I will write a poem for her some time. I can see your great admiration and love for old Kate.
It's life affirming.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Alison, your sensitive comment did bring a tear. Not only that in respect of Kate, but your words are the kindest any man could hope for. Your own experience made you see what may not be obvious to all - she was an amazing woman and yes - I loved her dearly. Sadly she developed cancer and Meg insisted she came to live with us while she recuperated. She did, but other health problems developed later. I do look forward to reading your poem in the same vein. My heart says 'thank you' .....David.

Mikeverdi on 27-06-2014
Old Kate
Oh David, it shines through the whole piece; you were lucky to have each other. Some people can influence your life without ever knowing. How wonderful to be able to give back the love.

Mike

Author's Reply:


Fair weather friends (posted on: 23-06-14)
Alfred Austin (Laureate 1896-1913) is remembered for the awful lines, written of some royal illness: "Across the wires the electric message came, He is no better, he is much the same." Here is an awful poem in his honour and style.

Our solar panels greet the dawning sun, as skylarks rise to take the Dorset air, with volts remaining still so softly sung; no music yet for mankind to compare. Swift they surge along the sagging grid to sound alarm in sleeping pillowed head, ''Arise my friend, and do as you are bid, go boil the kettle, toast the breakfast bread''. The radio now tuned important news, my voltages bring joy to start the day; Prince George has paid his early morning dues. A woman murdered, suspect held, they say. Our amperes too are keen to show their hand. In industry the lathes begin to turn, and wheels of transport rumble overland, the Kilowattic hum of life in churn. My next door friends take second cups of tea. The ageing population stirs its stumps, unaware their light comes straight from me. 'At surgery, our jab is due for mumps'. Sad to say now clouds possess the sky, our doleful panels mourn their going slow. The carbon boys must start their standing by; It's England, folks no better place to go. David June 2014
Archived comments for Fair weather friends
stormwolf on 24-06-2014
Fair weather friends

Nothing awful about it. Perfectly executed with style and aplomb. You always make me smile. Home life seems so comfortably normal 😄
I remember someone trying to sell me solar panels.
We hardly got much sun in Aberdeen known as 'The Grey City' or sometimes ' The Silver City' due to the buildings being made of granite.
Anyway, on enquiring how efficient they would be in offering help with electricity ect he responded that they would take the chill off the water as I peeled the tatties.😳
That was when I showed him the door 😜

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thank you dear Alison for reviving my day. I had thought that the volts and amperes and kilowatts might be a bit on the corny side - off-putting. As to a comfortably normal home life, the panels pay for my heating bills - the real moral is a plea to you to come South young lady - for you know the saying. Every Scotsman that settles in England increases the average intelligence of both countries. May Ohm's Law be with you always....XXX...David -

Elfstone on 24-06-2014
Fair weather friends
Nothing awful about the poem - it's very good - and the awful (scary) message about dependancy on electricity is something we need to hear shouted out. Elfstone

Author's Reply:
Thank you Elf for your kind comment. Living in a flood plain area, for us clouds mean rain as well as less electricity. My best to you ...David

Kipper on 25-06-2014
Fair weather friends
Hi David,
Another good story, set in a style which is becoming familiar to me. A lot of fun and maybe a moral too.
Not only that but your replies to the comments of your fans keep the fun going. For example I have never before heard the line about Scotsmen crossing the border. Trying to work out if that helps the 'yes' vote or the 'no'.
Great as always, Michael.

Author's Reply:
Hi Michael, yes, publishing one's poems means we are in the entertainment business - the show must go on ! Thank you for your kind words, I suppose we must try to enjoy the opportunity - a wee nudge, a wee nag. Not sure either about the saying affecting either yes or no vote - it was written long before an independent Scotland was on the daily pages. with respect....David

Mikeverdi on 25-06-2014
Fair weather friends
Missed commenting on this one David, read it first on iphone; remiss of me. Another gem from you, agree with young Kipper, we have all grown accustomed to you style...and look forwards to your offering HaHa! Love the Scotsmen thing our 'Wee fat friend' would like it as well I think 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks, Mike, sounds as though I had better change my style, but keep the HaHa if I can. Are you taking a break - can't find you this go. My best...David

Ionicus on 26-06-2014
Fair weather friends
The line you mentioned goes hand in hand with the infamous "It was a dark and stormy night."
Your poem on the other hand has a good message and it is very relevant to the needs of today.
I can vouch for the advantage of having solar panels, having had them installed two years ago. Not only do they help the environment but they are also a sound financial investment.
Best, Luigi.

Author's Reply:
Thanks for comment Luigi. Our panels pay for 80% of our heating bills, but the way the energy companies work things, I now realise my benefit may be the cause of higher electricity bills for poorer people. I am surprised that you do well up there in the clouded north. Cookie crumbles....yours aye....David.


The Realtime Cake (posted on: 20-06-14)
This is 'Real time poetry ! A simple true story in ballad style.. The first four verses happened last Friday/Saturday. The last two have yet to take place. Please wish the phantom 'ugly greedy boy good luck.

She made a cake with loving care, a 'special' for the village fte, fit for a king of sweetest tooth with cream and nuts and chocolate. Collected, sad she sent it off, in plastic bag, the 5p type. ''Oh how I'd like it for my tea'', she shed a tear a weep, a wipe. In secret then I rang the chief ten pounds I bid to beg a boon. 'Please hide it in your freezer, safe, two weeks to go to end of June'. The cake stall at the fte she flew, for one last look at pride and joy, ''Alas it went and hour ago, an ugly greedy-looking boy''. Surprise, surprise, it reappeared, enjoyed by all. Cake of the year. 'Happy birthday dearest Meg', she wiped away another tear. To taste one's own, what better way to celebrate a special day. David June 2014
Archived comments for The Realtime Cake
Ionicus on 20-06-2014
The Realtime Cake
Yum, yum. Chocolate cake, my favourite. Thanks for the gastronomic ode, David.
Luigi 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thanks for the comment Luigi, sorry but there will be none left for starving poets - this is democracy.....Yrs, David

Savvi on 21-06-2014
The Realtime Cake
I WANT CAKE...tou cant beat a home made cake and strong tea...eating it should be nominated as a sport, then I could claim it as daily excercise 🙂 thanks for the tummy rummble Bozzz, best Keith

Author's Reply:
Me too, Keith. Thanks for comment . I will have to wait a few days before I get my munchers into this one. I think consumption of chocolate should be decriminalised. perhaps we should set up a website devoted to this idea - or start a petition.....David

Kipper on 22-06-2014
The Realtime Cake
What a shame you can't send us all piece by email. Perhaps UKA is a good substitute.
Well done David; happy birthday Meg.
Michael

Author's Reply:
Well there's a nice cheerful comment - thank you Michael. I will send you a cyber crumb or two - if any are left after the party. Cheers....David


A misadventure in time (posted on: 16-06-14)
Please refrain from metrication, when you time the British nation. A misadventure in time - a lucky escape?

Frequency is time disguised as life. The obelisk, its daily shadow man's first clock. Twelve times two in Egypt, twenty four a Fleming choice, thank God no French were there to metricate. A ten-hour day, just think how awful that would be, arise at three, take lunch at five, go dine at eight and bed at nine, not hard to see the world in steep decline. No village chime mid-afternoon tolls three nor honey still available for tea. When grandpa's clock strikes 5.833, small wonder that the terrified mouse would flee. David June 2014
Archived comments for A misadventure in time
Mikeverdi on 16-06-2014
A misadventure in time
David, you could rhyme just about anything and make it good Ha Ha!
Mike

Author's Reply:
Does rhyme rhyme with time - good heavens, so it does - sorry Mike. Will try harder...David


Savvi on 16-06-2014
A misadventure in time
Bozzz what a lovely tumble into time, not sure what you mean with the opening line but that could just be me and the engineer inside. Very much enjoyed. Keith

Author's Reply:
Ah, a fellow engineer - great. Re opening line, see my comment to Alison. Thanks for enjoying ....David

stormwolf on 17-06-2014
A misadventure in time
Hi David,

As quirky as ever, like the layout and the thoughts.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Alison. Quirky? Repetition of events (frequency) is our life in time. The Egyptians decided on the 12-hour basis (sunrise to sunset) and Sandford Fleming invented the 24-hour system for the day to get rid of am and pm - plus a glimpse of the ten hour day - that is the piece. We are talking about your life and mine - is that strange? Ah well, what can a poor engineer say that is not quirky to the arts community? Oops !....another brick. I will now have to learn sweet nothings and lyricality ....David

pommer on 19-06-2014
A misadventure in time
Good as ever. I like the way it is laid out.(Mind you when I saw the word frequency my first thought turned to my prostate before my TURPS.) Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
For me it is prostate and BURPS. Ah well, a poet's life is not an easy one. Maybe one needs to be cheerful as well lucky? In friendship...David


Slithy toving (posted on: 13-06-14)
It is time to remind ourselves that : "Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel". Samuel Johnson. Perhaps a cabinet shuffle swapping May and Gove would be appropriate punishment for both. Apologies to Lewis Carroll.

It would appear that Mr Gove like politicians on their way has gimbled like a slithy tove and wrecked the merry month of May Cameron should not forget when times are bad, with rows to come more women in his cabinet ‒ so he can ditch them one by one. The Eton wall game shows their boys that mud helps men to stay aloof so fill the press with briefing noise to drown the signal and the truth. To go abroad t'is three months wait, she must have made the wrong type cuts. The scandal now Is ''Passportgate''. A shuffle brooks no 'ifs or buts' . And thus the bullish club of men, all patriotic scoundrels, see it's time to wave the flag again, teach teachers how to British be. David June 2014
Archived comments for Slithy toving
Mikeverdi on 13-06-2014
Slithy toving
Oh dear David, I fear that Eton is in a right mess as far as you are concerned HaHa! The main course hasn't been that bad, the economy is riding high; though I agree the desert is difficult to swallow 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike. Clever comment my friend. I think I had better lay off politics for a bit....David

Popeye on 14-06-2014
Slithy toving
Hard to shuffle a stacked deck, but no doubt they learn that skill at Eton; and perhaps Roedean as well 🙂 Enjoyed this slick satire.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Popeye, we do need protection from those smart alecs who have never done a proper job in their lives and do not know what life is about. Reminds me of what a friend said to a young policeman in our local town - "Does your mother know you are out". Lucky not to get booked for disturbing the peace of mind of the law enforcers. Cheers, David.

stormwolf on 14-06-2014
Slithy toving
What is 'British' now? I think it's a rather quaint outmoded term to describe a people in my mother's day .....
hard-working, clean living, trusting and honourable...

Damn the government to hell and back!
Another good poem with a deep message David. came over loud and clear.

Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Like your definition. Aptly describes what we might aspire to be - but scarcely fits a Government that has politicised the Civil Service and there is no one left to talk sense. Double-talking well-meaning ignorant fools trying to teach intelligent people how to behave ought to be a big laugh, but sadly it is a horror story. Thanks Alison ....David

Kipper on 16-06-2014
Slithy toving
Never talk politics or religion people used to say. So I won't. But I will say that that is a very good poem, funny and very erm, bang on, I'd say.
I think that L3 in V1 is a cracker and who is going to argue with that. Don't precisely know what it means but if you'll allow me I'll have a guess.
Good one David
Michael

Author's Reply:
Hi Michael, V1 L3 was a form of nonsense words derived from Lewis Carroll's 'The Walrus and Carpenter', perhaps I should have offered apologies. Your guess will be as good as mine, but they sounded right ! Thanks for kind words and commenting.....David



Where dead flies go (posted on: 09-06-14)
The discovery of Fly Heaven, set up by their transmogrified Lord, sheds new light on the species Mosca.

Billions born and die each day on Earth, yet you hardly ever chance to see a fly whose fall to death came naturally. Odd bluebottle on window sill you found, a few on sticky paper lured and hung and idiot flies who're zapped by UV lamp, others on the wine glass, fallen in, but never came across their burial ground. A long kept secret is exposed at last. Fly Heaven exists for those who die, old aged, they're greeted by their Lord, now living Mosca, the genus of the commoners engaged. For country flies there's mounds of dung in piles, while houseflies live in special dirtied rooms. Ten thousand sideboards line the Heavenly walls with filthy plates on every surface laid. Mouldy meat exposed to heavenly air, spilt fat is there from every larded joint. Dummy men and women lie asleep, their skins made bare at every legal point. No grace is said before they start a meal. Atheist flies must eat what falls to floor. Conversion may allow a better deal. Fly Souls are ones that really know the score. For Hero flies, some special treats await. Those who scape the dreaded plastic swat, get virgins who are waiting their embrace; young flies from Heaven then daily fresh begot. Those surviving swatting by the Times, are looked upon as target laughing stock, for heavy news means sluggardly in swipe, such braggarts get the bird and take the mock. For flies that seek a quieter after life, there's unflushed loos at corners of the hall It's safe to lurk the surface of the bowl for no one ever gets a blessed call. David. June 2014
Archived comments for Where dead flies go
stormwolf on 09-06-2014
Where dead flies go
Absolutely incredibly original!!!
Fly Heaven indeed. What work and thought went into this fly masterpiece. I don't know about fly heaven but I have many times wondered where the birds go to die? I mean, it's rare to find the odd one belly up, little skinny feet in air. apart from the odd doomsday occurrence that hits the news, where thousands fall to earth in some seemingly ‘end times’ scenario....where do the rest of them go?
You know my great love for 'crows' don't you David? Well, for all the hundreds that serenaded me in the country, I never saw a dead one.
(Apart from the farmers' horrible trick of suspending a few from fences to scare them off during lambing.)

Anyway, shows our minds do work in similar fashions. This may or may not be a comfort to you hahahaha

Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Thank you Alison for risking your life in Fly Heaven. It's not a very inviting place. I should have chosen crows. I'll settle for your mind too. But we do need to know how the other half die as well as live. I suspect 99% of flies are had by birds and their droppings tell the story - but what am I saying - back to square one !....David

ValDohren on 12-06-2014
Where dead flies go
No flies on you then David !! Certainly very novel, never having read a fly poem before.
Val x


Author's Reply:
Well Val, I do have an obsessive dislike of the the brutes - it is said that weight for weight, they are about ten times more intelligent than we are - but we did invent our Heaven before they did. Thanks for being brave and reading the piece - no virgin men for you as prizes I fear.......XXX...David


The Queen's speech (posted on: 06-06-14)
To avoid confusion. ''discombobulate'' means to create confusion. The Queens speech covers the alleged now Zombie governments principal means of achieving this in the next parliament.

Order ! Order ! in the house in all matters of the state, it's now the time to put things straight? Completely discombobulate ! When emigration's on the rocks and Gove kicks May below the line, an 'amour propre' in decline. Completely discombobulate ! When MPs do their naughty things; put hands in till or under dress, can voters now clear up the mess? Completely discombobulate ! Frack below my house, no thanks. A yard, a mile, their Quatermass will fill the soil with poison gas. Completely discombobulate ! Our pension pots put in a pool. Dutch courage now the public need while banks deny perennial greed. Completely discombobulate ! With plastic bags at 5p each to fill the Treasury's empty vault as our deficit nears default? Completely discombobulate ! The Zombies now in full control, with nonsense in their minds. Bereft once more ''There is no money left''. Too late to discombobulate ! David. June 2014
Archived comments for The Queen's speech
stormwolf on 06-06-2014
The Queens speech
Fab word 'discombobulate'
Fab poem.
Zombies in government. Zombies in public continuing to think there is choice in voting.
Bring on the revolution (if there are anyone left with a clear mind with all the poisons in the food!)
Oh, it's a gay day! ooops!!!
The PC police will be after me sure as 9/11 was an inside job. 😉

Alison x

Author's Reply:
I think they will come for me first - I'm banking on a delayed sentence. An interim period in insanity clothing to prevent hand access to keyboard is now available for use with dissidents.
Thanks for the warning Alison ....XXX.....David

Mikeverdi on 08-06-2014
The Queens speech
HaHaHa! Brilliant poetry David, as I have said many times you are what poetry is all about...'Telling it like it is' never mind the tosh that I write. Your reply to Alison was right, they will cart you away one day though!
Mike

Author's Reply:
Apols for delay. My thanks again. If your stuff is tosh and I look at your string of nibs, there seems to be some sort of mismatch - come off it mate. They can't all be wrong all of the time. David.

stormwolf on 08-06-2014
The Queens speech
Stormwolf and friends continued to refuse to tow the government's line...


 photo community-cast-in-straitjackets_zps2b4e5c66.jpeg

Author's Reply:
Looks like one of Jimmy Savile's private counselling session waiting rooms.

pommer on 12-06-2014
The Queens speech
Hi David,A great poem as usual hitting the nail right on the head.However, being a native of a different country, an Alien,you got me really worried with that fabulous word :Discombobulate.Well I learned something else, never too old to learn.Am very busy at present,and don't write much.Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Hi Peter, very glad you are busy - the best thing to be. But Alien? You have never told us what sort of spaceship you used to get here. Come to think of it, your English language usage is the best I have known for any person coming from another planet. Yes when I saw the combobulate word I felt I would have to try and write a poem using it. Ah well, they say that madness come to all us poets eventually.
Good luck to you too, my friend ...David


''The ''booty full' game?'' (posted on: 02-06-14)
The other side of Luigi's paeon of 'The beautiful game'!

''The 'booty full' game'' The moneyed sport that's giving thrills. Pay millions, watch their wicked skills. What does football say to you, role models all that wield the boot? ''The beauty lies in what we do, but don't for God's sake follow suit''. Professional fouls, our free for all, for you would bring a copper's call. A racist sign, a joke in fun, I do the same, my trial's begun. I screwed my team mate's girl last night, now Hell for me, for you alright. I take a dive, the goalie grumbles. Penalty ‒ the cookie crumbles. A bribe I had to fix 'own goal', ditched my team and sold my soul. A head butt, yes, I lost my cool, just red card for being a fool. I nudged the ball home with my hand, quite sure that God would understand that Cup Finals are holy grail; I cheated lest my money'd fail. So if a millionaire you'd be, go practice hard your devilry David June 2014
Archived comments for ''The ''booty full' game?''
Mikeverdi on 02-06-2014
The booty full game?
Nothing wrong with your devilry David 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thank you Mike.
My devilry may pass muster, but on reflection and to be honest the verse suffers from excess of haste. I must have another go at it later. Apologies...David

pommer on 02-06-2014
The booty full game?
I agree with you Bozzz,while it is good, must have been written in haste.Be lucky, In haste Peter.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Peter for confirming my thoughts. But I will rewrite for my own satisfaction and not repost - subject too trivial really. In even more haste - David

stormwolf on 04-06-2014
The booty full game?
Well I never saw it as written in haste 😞
I thought it was wickedly accurate. The amount of money those men get for kicking a ball about is obscene and few are seemingly able to handle it well.
I have never understood the attraction myself.
Well done David me old fruit 🌸

Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Well thank you Alison - there's kindness too. You are right that about their skills - most have more ability with their balls than with the ball. ... David


Water in the desert tomorrow. Farage or mirage? (posted on: 26-05-14)
A few words on this weeks current affairs. Spring is here - the cloud cuckoos have arrived.

Born in beer and nearly dead, delusions now of power 'then'. What goes on inside that head? Asymptotes approaching 'when'. The 'never', reached in brain alone fooled Precariat today, while Toffs now love the Eurozone, the rest don't know quite what to say. Belaboured by their follies past the band of Millies clutch at straws. The Welfare state - now cannot last, blame Blairfare and its costly wars? Yet if Google wipes all slates who must we forgive, for what? Apologies by evil greats no longer needed bless the lot? Election year; the time for lies. Big sell that all is running well. Manana, yes, it's no surprise, that many stay in living hell. ''On your bike and here's your card. We can't afford you British louts. Bulgarians work twice as hard for half the pay and no 'walk outs''. Yet ''I'm alright Jack'', Toffs proclaim recovery has taken hold ‒ and still they sip their pink champagne, watch others die in hunger; cold. May 2014
Archived comments for Water in the desert tomorrow. Farage or mirage?
stormwolf on 26-05-2014
Water in the desert tomorrow. Farage or mirage?
Hi David
Yes, hard-hitting and truthful.
The people have spoken alright but I have an uneasy feeling that trouble lies ahead. The psychopathic sociopathic beaurocrats and bankers are not going to like what is happening.....
God knows what they may pull out of the hat now.
If far right radical groups have risen up in other countries it is surely due to the anguish of people who have run out of patience.
I fear they will think another war or two might help and kill off a few serfs while they are at it.
Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Another war, Ouch. You are right to fear the bankers and the politicians. For them it is better to create a war than lose money and their jobs. Hopefully things like the internet and mobile phones will reduce the risk of misunderstanding - cause of many conflicts. Also, today parliament has a vote on the matter, though equally today a small nation can be wiped out by someone else's war. But strangely likelihoods are lower than ten years ago - be of good cheer. Thanks Alison for kind comment +.
Warmth, ....David

Elfstone on 26-05-2014
Water in the desert tomorrow. Farage or mirage?
A clever cynical swipe at the world in which we live. I enjoyed this. Elfstone

Author's Reply:
I would much prefer to write a sonnet to my neighbour's dog - a handsome woman, but more serious worldly mistakes cannot go unchallenged. Cynical may be, but would you allow justified? Many thanks friend Elfstone..... Enjoyment is indeed the target anyway - glad. Yrs, David

pdemitchell on 26-05-2014
Water in the desert tomorrow. Farage or mirage?
Astute and crafted - Political with a small p, a large P and a long late-night pee. Mitch

Author's Reply:
True, a pee upon the lot of them. A general swipe all round and obviously you are fielding in the deep and caught my cow shot. Ah well - no century this time.Thanks Mitch.

Kipper on 27-05-2014
Water in the desert tomorrow. Farage or mirage?
It's all there David; why can't there be a few politicians like you. If that sounds flippant it is not intended. We could do with a few who can see the wood from the trees.
BTW, I have become aware that Mr Farages supporters are calling themselves Ukippers. I may have to change my name!
Cheers Michael.


Author's Reply:

Mikeverdi on 27-05-2014
Water in the desert tomorrow. Farage or mirage?
Another terrific write from you David, you are so good at these.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Meg calls 'these' my breakfast table vituperations. Thanks Mike for support as ever - particularly as we sometimes differ in our loyalties - if one can call them that, to different political strands.... Yrs, David

sweetwater on 27-05-2014
Water in the desert tomorrow. Farage or mirage?
Thoroughly agree with all comments, I too have a bad feeling about the future, too much unrest is going unheard. Sue.x

Author's Reply:
My thanks, Sue for comment. I think the Ukraine danger point has blown over this time, but I agree that it does not take much for yet another to arise. Greater religious conflict is still the biggest threat - as if it were not already a disaster. ......T'was ever thus....David

Savvi on 27-05-2014
Water in the desert tomorrow. Farage or mirage?
On the money all the way Bozzz and a great close, I can only agree. Best Keith

Author's Reply:
Thanks Keith. I sometimes wish that I could be the kind fairy and everything would come right....Yrs, David


Dangerously dirty Dorset ditties (posted on: 12-05-14)
Extracts from the less harmful entries in the compendium of Dangerously Dirty Dorset Ditties

Dirty Dorset Ditty No 1. ''Hard Water Babies?" In Dorset's fair county, there's downs and there's dales and women and water, both harder than nails. While the gents court the ladies, their love is not blind; pins used to clean showerheads will put them in mind. There's maidens and markets in Dorchester town. At Blandford the menfolk head straight for the Crown. The beer may be Woodhouse, the tea that is strong; t'is the ladies get fired up from boiling too long. At Sturminster Newton men swim in the Stour, where the leeches are lasses, you're 'Dad' in an hour. By now you have 'got it' and answered the call, t'is the chalk in the water brings children to all. Dirty Dorset Ditty No.2 Odd Romance A Dorset lass who hails from Wareham, wore her hair all harum scarum. One day she bought herself a wig, too big. Alas when she went down the street, her boyfriend Algernon to meet, the wig fell off into the way. "Good day"! The stranger picked it up and gazed, in manner odd and mien amazed, then gently took her arm and said, "To bed". But a parson standing by, caught the randy couple's eye, so they were wed, instead. Dirty Dorset Ditty No.3 Perfection's catch Define a perfect Dorset lady. Here's a thing, on which all men in honey'd metre sing. Produce a woman of this definition, and hear the tongue of man employ transition. For he's a fool that flatter'd, not to flee, when faced with such a grim reality! David May 2014
Archived comments for Dangerously dirty Dorset ditties
Ionicus on 13-05-2014
Dangerously dirty Dorset ditties
Fairly amusing, David. No.1 is my favourite.

Author's Reply:

e-griff on 13-05-2014
Dangerously dirty Dorset ditties
A bit obscure in places for me.

No 1 beer/tea? And the third verse went over my head (leeches/dad) until I'd read it three times.

No2 'eloping' doesn't quite fit.

No 3 I liked best. Technically OK, good spirit. But again, I missed 'flatter'd, not to flee' at first. May have worked it out now. As Luigi says, amusing. Worth a read.



Author's Reply:
Hi John,
My thanks for comment. Agree with difficulties re beer(weak)/tea(strong). Perhaps you do not live in a hard water region - our area is among the hardest in the UK. Furring up is the problem with showerheads and kettles. Leeches stay close. Eloping? fits beatwise but yes, perhaps 'bed' means walking distance not Gretna Green ! Will think....David.





e-griff on 13-05-2014
Dangerously dirty Dorset ditties
In the UK we live in a very hard water (chalk) area.

On 'elope' my observation IS about rhythm, although I would agree it's minor. The placing of two unstressed syllables together, with the same sound(the/e) causes a small hesitation. It's maybe being perfectionist, but, as an example, say it with 'happy' instead of 'eloping' and you should hear the difference.

Anyway, that's quite enough from me! 🙂


Best, JohnG

Author's Reply:
1. Yes, "t'is the chalk in the water brings children to all". In Devon it is very soft - they die earlier, it is said.
2. In the spirit of your suggestion and tenor of the poem, 'randy' is the word.
Thanks, David.


How to remember sins (posted on: 09-05-14)
A prose piece with some rhymic edges.

Powers of postponement grow apace with age, yet mottoes of the lazy do not change. Ne'er do today what can be morrow done, nor do yourself what others will for you, nor tidy up as normal souls would do. But someday fate will bring revenge, omission means eternal doghouse life. A wifely face gives neither hint nor clue, on how I've failed this time fill my role. The strategies of search now take their toll. The sitting room sits photo perfectly No paper hankies crumpled on my chair, nor mouldy cake crumbs soon to disappear at cushion edges. The telly tuned to Panorama's time, of Playboy Special great there's not a sign. No fault there. The kitchen table - normal gender state. A mess of papers, yet more crumbs at mine. A spotless acre shines of course at hers. The bedroom always marginal at best. Slippers slightly misaligned, my bedside table sports a tidy mess. Nothing criminal god bless. The ensuite, temple of creative thought, inspiration shows - the lid is down ! No blobs of toothpaste mar wash basin's flush, its plug and chain are safely slung to tap (Accord with Regulation 13b) Dried water hieroglyphics on the glass? The shower door wiped free of Pharoah's words, the cleaning cloth sits well - correctly hung. So what else can there be? Suddenly I sneeze and reaching for my kerchief, finding none, then bending for the toilet roll - and - oh my God ! its gone ! My turn for that job What I should have done ! Task completed, hero of the hour. ''Done it love I'm sorry I forgot''. ''Done what'' she says, '' The loo roll just replaced''. A pause. She looks me coldly in the eye. A shake of head, then holds the diary high in my face today, thank god is blank, but yesterday a bullet twixt my eyes. ''Our Aniversary'' it says. My future dies. David May 2014
Archived comments for How to remember sins
stormwolf on 09-05-2014
How to remember sins
hahaha OMG! I hope you then ordered a dozen red roses!
Gave me a right laugh!
Loved this

The ensuite, temple of creative thought,
inspiration shows - the lid is down !

You are as sharp as a tack David!!!

Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Well Alison, I failed miserably many times when I was a working idiot - both as a slave to the company and as would-be despot at home, but things change on retirement! Who is Boss - certainly not Bozzz today. Thank you for your tolerance of the new underdog. No, in a sense we poets are all players in the entertainment industry. XXX David



Mikeverdi on 09-05-2014
How to remember sins
Oh dear David, the cardinal sin: short rations for you and no tea 🙂 Another great story line HaHa!

Author's Reply:
Tolerating the untidiness of the mad scientist is one thing, but forgetting this sort of event is a mortal sin rather that a Cardinal one. Heaven is now no longer a possibility, Hell is now inevitable - am busy designing my fireproof suit. Let me know if you want a replica. Thank you Mike - as ever good friend. David

ValDohren on 11-05-2014
How to remember sins
You're the only man I ever knew to put that lid down, so kudos for that David at least. Flowers, chocs and a meal should sort out the other.
Val xx

Author's Reply:


A Grace-ful way to go? (posted on: 05-05-14)
One way to flog a dead horse - or maybe it will be Trojan? With present lax control of supermarket food content, one day this will happen on a serious scale. Another rant ? Who me ? Never !

For what we are about now to receive may our empty stomachs live to tell the tale, for Grace gives evil options to deceive by supermarket chains beyond the pale. Better give our thanks next day, alive with chance to shop again and make complaint. Be grateful for being able to survive, where they said what it it was, but we know ain't. Old horsemeat sold as beef is par for course. Mislabelling now but a venial vow. The ride to heaven mounted on a horse is classic de rigeur, preferred to cow. But worshippers of moons are up in arms for Daisy jumping over them is 'cool'. Athletic bovines have their mobile charms is what they teach at every junior school. Dead customers must ever thankful be that they were honoured greatly by the store, for cheaper's better value mythically, Winged Pegasus beats Daisy's coach and four. David April 2014
Archived comments for A Grace-ful way to go?
Kipper on 06-05-2014
A Grace-ful way to go?
Hi David
Bogof is the in phrase today. 'Buy our great offers forever', is what they would have us believe. It used to be tftpoo, which I think trips off the tongue much better, and was better value.
Very topical, just a shame you couldn't find a place for a laughing dog.
Tantalisingly tongue in cheek as usual,
Michael


Author's Reply:
Apols for delay, Michael. I think the Tantalus held only fruit, and I am not up on laughing dogs - down in straw chewing Dorset we do not get the same high intellect calibre ads as those in town. My Mum did warn that one day my tongue would get stuck in cheek and be inextractable - moment arrivee?
Many thanks for comment...David

Mikeverdi on 06-05-2014
A Grace-ful way to go?
You do this thing so well David, Morrisons will never look the same!
Mike

Author's Reply:

stormwolf on 06-05-2014
A Grace-ful way to go?
hahaha very witty as usual. Yes,I fancy being taken heaven-ward on Pegasus but bugger eating his kind under any circumstances.
Mind you, with the GMO frankenfoods now infiltrating every food chain one way or the other....as governments try to tell us what to eat, while in kahoots with the globalits...who are poisoning us for profit???
I say a pox on 'em all.

Alison (fellow ranter) 😉
xxx


Author's Reply:


Walls have ears Floors have eyes Ceilings have noses (posted on: 02-05-14)
A short poetic essay on transmogrification Those scared of reality - do not read. A bonfire of condensed vapours.

Hot air rises - so they say and everything from thoughts to farts to ladies' decorative arts ends up on ceilings every day. You coughed and spluttered all night long, mumbled nonsense in your sleep. Sweating nightmares made you weep. At dawn you lay there in your pong. Your powdered face and exhaled breath. the red stick heated by your lips. Nail vapour from your finger tips and body spray it's perfumed meth. All these and more have cause to rise. The ceiling sniffs, inhales the lot; tries hard to separate what's what; stores and waits for your surprise. Imagine now the product spin, be culinary, have no fears, mix perfumes with your great ideas. make sauce from boborygmal din. Your perspiration, wine at best, don't overcook, keep garbage soft. the meal prepared, serve in the loft. Your noxious ceiling laid to rest. David April 2014
Archived comments for Walls have ears Floors have eyes Ceilings have noses
sweetwater on 02-05-2014
Walls have ears Floors have eyes Ceilings have noses
Well thank goodness I am not a ceiling. Very imaginative, and well expressed. Sue.

Author's Reply:
I am glad I am not a loft. Thanks Sue for visiting the bottom of the piie - where the dregs of poesy reside. Secular blessings, if allowed....David

ValDohren on 03-05-2014
Walls have ears Floors have eyes Ceilings have noses
And wait for the male input - God help that poor ceiling !!
Val 🙂

Author's Reply:
Superb response Val. The male inputs will certainly add spice to the gaseous elements of the meal, not to mention the ensuite - but that is a different story -= a tale untellable. XXXXX...David

Savvi on 04-05-2014
Walls have ears Floors have eyes Ceilings have noses
My kind of poem David nice and qwerky, you have an odd mind...but I like it. I will never lie back and look at the cieling in the same way again. Best Keith

Author's Reply:


Floor's eye view. A dreadful thought (posted on: 28-04-14)
''Where ere you walk'', carpets are a girls next-best friend. Every millimetre of female form is a spectacle of beauty to man. This is an experiment in making rhythmic rhyming prose look like poetry.

I am a carpet ‒ saving maiden's grace for girls who think there's nought beneath their feet. Remember eyes that lurk below your tread; be sure to keep your spectacles discreet. I am a floor, what walking's really for: preventing gravity from doing its worst. For if I fail to give the right support, for sure you'll end up falling down - feet first. Envy fills the thoughts of many men, my floor's eye view is obviously unique; through looking upwards gently now and then I see where some would dearly crave a peek. The dance hall's where we floors view more than most, for sure the bathroom tiles see more than me. Feel sorry for the loo board's humble sight, for all it can observe is falling pee. Man floors are meant to shut their eyes at once when faced with things they should not really see. Sometimes they are forgetful when there's bunce, 'No carpets' gives them opportunity. I dare say floors of stone spy less than wood; at least they are not covered wall to wall. At prices that are charged, that's not too good, but better than a glimpse of bugger all. I am a carpet ‒ saving maiden's grace for girls who think there's nought beneath their feet. Remember eyes that lurk below your tread; Be sure to keep your spectacles discreet. David April 2014
Archived comments for Floor's eye view. A dreadful thought
stormwolf on 28-04-2014
Floors eye view. A dreadful thought
Unique, creative and thought provoking David.
Made me think in a new way and you always make me smile.
Thought the repetition of the first verse as the last was very good and highlighted the crux of this unusual poem.
Alison x


Author's Reply:
Agree with your 8. No zing in the text. Will try one more experiment of this type.
My thanks as ever,...David

chant_z on 28-04-2014
Floors eye view. A dreadful thought
I wouldn't consider myself very capable of commenting on the project you aim to achieve but it was a very amusing read that stirred thought and that's likeable I think.

Author's Reply:
Just to write as if one were an inanimate object, that's all. many thanks for your kind comment Chant......Cheers, David

pdemitchell on 28-04-2014
Floors eye view. A dreadful thought
I liked this prose-poem expose of voyeurism in the fashion industry and elsewhere... I feel a poem about a bicycle seat coming on.... or maybe not! Mitch

Author's Reply:
Ha Ha - great response. Bicycle seat - too close to call. Ditto saddle. No Mitch, as you rightly suggest, temptation is more exciting than fulfilment in this case. Many thanks for comment....Yours aye,...David


Welcome May, for some (posted on: 25-04-14)
Not your usual flower poem. This piece is about colour. Even outside pentameter, flowers have little else to offer allergic souls. Surely Nature should be a subject in the Genre list?

We thought the lurking frost had won again. Magnolia tree in full display says 'No, I beat the bastard late last night, look now'! But dusk had then a different tale to tell. Indoors the amaryllis leans, a-lurch, Triffid-like, the white lours in your face, with sickly smile to hide a dark embrace. Poinsettias, with Christmas now long gone, red leaves atop, stay firmly in command, flirt unceasing with my lazing eye. Daffodils die daily as the rape takes yellow crown, usurping all around. The slender shoots good fortune in disguise, until its pungent poison takes the air, throat a-swelling, nose a-running stuff, the primrose, beaten too, has had enough. Thank god for primulae, the working class in multi-coloured glory, surging bloom, multum yet in parvo fill the room, harmless - take the stage for me in May. I would not have it any other way. David May 2014
Archived comments for Welcome May, for some
stormwolf on 25-04-2014
Welcome May, for some
Hi David,
Another poem that has meticulous attention to detail so is a pleasure to read.
Oilseed rape has raped the countryside alright, been a nightmare for those with allergies and instead of the life enhancing yellow carpet of spring daffodils...is more akin to me at least, of the disquieting, almost madness-inducing yellow of a Van Gogh painting when he was in the throes of insanity.
For that reason I cannot ever actually like Van Gogh for his colours and his brush strokes speak to me of a fenzied mind.
Superb writing and I hope you can see my rating is backed up with considered critique 😉

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison, I am in disarray, but very grateful for your consideration nonetheless. Like you, I tried stepping outside my normal gritted style and twice this morning thought - is it good enough? - and was literally on the verge of deletion. 'Lust for life' on Van Gogh excited me at school and yes the madness does come through in the strokes - love your simile with the madness of rape. Often we are not the best judges of our work - thank you for seeing construction as a key item but, as you have said before, there must be more than that - a message, a purpose and yet more. I was not sure of the latter items - written too many rants perhaps? Completely floored ! Yours aye, David.

Ionicus on 26-04-2014
Welcome May, for some
For one who doesn't see the difference between weeds and plants, I was impressed by your obvious knowledge of flora.
Yes, outside your usual style but stylish nevertheless. Hats off to you. Given the vagueness of the rating system I will refrain from awarding any marks but you can take it as read that your poem met with my approval.

Author's Reply:
My thanks Luigi for your approval. Agree on the marking system. Yours aye, David

ValDohren on 27-04-2014
Welcome May, for some
Certainly very descriptive David, like a painting (perhaps not Van Gogh).
Makes a change from your rants, but do I detect a slight element of rant in there ?
Val x

Author's Reply:
One day I will produce a rant-free piece. Of course you are right, it was hardly hidden but ranting about flowers is only two out of ten in the rant-level scale - Can do better. Thank you and blessings, David

pommer on 27-04-2014
Welcome May, for some
A wonderful description,David.A change from your usual stuff. Well done, Peter.

Author's Reply:
My thanks Peter, Don't know what to try next. Waiting for the next Government gaffe. With the election due soon, they will come thick and fast from all sides ! Yours aye, David

pdemitchell on 01-05-2014
Welcome May, for some
Multum yet in parvo - and - leans a-lurch. Well writ David as they stick in your brain like the hook line in "Einstein A-go-go" by Landscape. Enjoyable, mon ami. Mitch.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mitch. I am not familiar with Einstein's more 'exotic' works, but your mention of the word "hook" underlines the importance of rhyme in poetry. All relative of course, but Amen to that I say !
Secular blessings....David


Icarus in Burma and Bernoulli's equation (posted on: 18-04-14)
In WW2 aircrew flying over the Burmese jungle in the fight against Japan were given 'Goolie chits that, if they were shot down, promised local tribes money if they returned our boys alive with both testicles intact. Some escaped but with only one left. Bernoulli, physicist, an equation for flow thro' holes.

Those who know equations like Bernoulli can flow through holes more easily than most. Release the pressure, then you pass more coolly, a lesson learned by those who've past the post. Prevent yourself from looking too unruly, another aid to smooth your passage through. Don't faff around and make a big flahooley, keep sac well anchored, knees well-covered too. Do not disturb your state of mind unduly, stay calm, look straight ahead in style. Ignore the pain that's hurting you most cruelly, Think 'soon I will be free, and raise a smile. The tribe you're with have robbed you of one goolie, Ignored the chit that promised gold galore. So sign your final note ''I love you truly'' and crawl like you have never crawled before. David April 2014 Written for the oldest aerodynamicist in the world.
Archived comments for Icarus in Burma and Bernoulli's equation
Mikeverdi on 18-04-2014
Icarus in Burma and Bernoullis equation
As usual this was well written but....Some day you are going to have to explain that one to me in more detail David, I may have missed the plot a bit 🙂

Author's Reply:
Mike. Learning to crawl through tunnels with no daylight at the end was part of my training as an RAF pilot in WW2. Escape or die, the philosophy. Bernoulli's equation on air flow through holes and over surfaces was the aircraft designers mantra during my college days as a would be aerodynamicist. Funnily enough the formula was resurgent in my mind when the crowd I was in surged through the gate to exit from the Kremlin thirty years later. I had watched an opera, the Russian government had given me Khruschev's seat ! People were acting as particles of air to indicate the formula's effect - as a form of proof. I did serve in Burma, but fortunately never to crawl to save my life and still have two goolies.
My recent troubles in that area triggered the writing of the poem. My apologies for the obscurity - unforgivable.....David

stormwolf on 20-04-2014
Icarus in Burma and Bernoullis equation
What a life you have lived David!!! I life well lived in every respect. The poem lost me too a tiny bit but I was glad to read your explanation to Mike.
I could no sooner crawl through holes with no light than fly in the air! oops pardon the pun! 😉
I suffer from claustrophobia (think I must have been buried alive in a previous life) but almost conquered it through taking part in native American style sweat lodge ceremonies 😉

Well done on the nib
Alison xxx


Author's Reply:
Cannot quite understand the nib - applause for trying to crawl perhaps? Bernoulli was the real challenge - could do better. I now know what a sweat lodge is - thank you. The training I had was routine commando stuff - not sure if I would have survived your American course ! Thanks so much for bearing with me Alison - you are the 'sweetie'. ...XXX David


The London Marathon. (posted on: 18-04-14)
May your god protect you from the BBC when things like this are offered on TV ‒ or have to read a crummy note from me.

The Crummy Note The London Marathon has just begun, forty thousand thieves now on the run. They've stolen time from normal daily life for charity through stamina and strife. The best of athletes from the world of sports announce defeat of Persians at our ports; that London stays the home of Brits for aye, Yes Scottish, Welsh and even Northern I. Mugshots of bearded men with rucksack lunches while MI5 in drag go follow hunches. Dress idiot for fame, the naked spur, looking mad is now the 'de rigeur'. The motor bikes that monitor the race, put toxic fumes in every runner's face. No anti-perspirants allowed for men brings smog of pheromones to record ten. Women faint, unused to wider choice, lose their hearts and shouting, loose their voice. The BBC in hot pursuit of pics, find no chatterboxes for the mix, as out of Africa, the winners stay to civilise our nation for a day. David April 2014
Archived comments for The London Marathon.
Pelequin23 on 18-04-2014
The London Marathon.
good account of the chaos of the marathon 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thank you for comment. Chaos is spot on....David

stormwolf on 19-04-2014
The London Marathon.
You do make me smile David. Such richness in your thoughts, insights and expression.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thank you Alison, you are too kind to a collection of crumbs. I wondered how many would remember their Greek history re Marathon and the Persians - which is what it was all about......David.

Pronto on 20-04-2014
The London Marathon.
I think it pathetic that the pics from the motorcycles always break up proving to the world how crap we are yet we persist year upon year.
Great commentary David. Loved it.

Author's Reply:
Thank you kindly. Not sure what frequencies the mobiles use on these occasions - would they be the normal police ones? ...David

ValDohren on 20-04-2014
The London Marathon.
Very good David. My daughter has run in the London Marathon for the previous three years and has raised much in aid of Cancer Research. Each year she has improved on her timing, the last being 3 hrs 4 mins.
All the runners are to be commended on their achievements.
Val 🙂 x

Author's Reply:
3 hrs 4 mins - that is great stuff - good for her - and us as it were.
Thanks Val - a bit of a bag of bones this one. ....David

sweetwater on 20-04-2014
The London Marathon.
No idea how people can drive themselves so hard, even for such good causes, especially when they wear fancy dress to do it. A very descriptive poem.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Sue, for taking a look and a handsome mark. Driven is the word ...XXX David

Nemo on 20-04-2014
The London Marathon.
I'm not having much time for reading people's work at the moment - staggering how a wife breaking a leg can change your life but I'll find time for yours - while others wait for ages, days, weeks, months, years for 'inspiration', you can turn your hand to any topic! Chapeau!
Lovely rhymes! Gerald. I do like a nice rhyme ....

Author's Reply:
Apologies Gerald for tardy reply. How awful - a broken leg - a life-changing thing for both of you - my sympathy to both too. Let's hope your collective discombobulation is brief - been longing to use that word in a poem but not found opportunity yet. I suppose it means your culinary expertise is stretched - or are you the cook anyway? It can be a generation thing - I'd be useless, ashamed to say.
Well thank you for your very kind words, more welcome than my chocolate Easter egg by far I assure you and do I detect the merest tinge of laughter beneath? Love it. As to looking for me, this coming week I have given submission a miss, but will look for you - as ever. My very best wishes to your wife - I am sure you will surprise her with your care....David


Waddling with hope (posted on: 14-04-14)
If laughter can kill, please let me die of it - for man's life is the joke of chance - enjoy !

Last week my ageing goolies scanned again, two cysts are there, let diagnosis wait. No cause for god or nature to explain; their plan is clear from study of my gait ! What is borrowed time between good friends? Will the 'mojo' make tomorrow's morn? An overdraft on life? Hope never ends, for every writer's block, new poems born. . Days on the websites take their bruising toll, the pen, more sensitive than other's swords can on occasion strike a vital goal, the best a man can do needs no rewards. So pass the buck, my conscience is mankind's; another's voice to focus on the mores. Be dead, but live in other bardic minds; goodbye to praying for nibs ‒ forget the scores. David April 2014
Archived comments for Waddling with hope
Pelequin23 on 14-04-2014
Waddling with hope
my friend has just been through this hes only in his early 20's too and he says each day is a bonus now

Author's Reply:
Thank you Peter for comment and mark. For your friend to have a goolie problem in his 20s is terrible. In my 90s I suppose it is par for the course. I pray he has the very slow version of the disease....David

Mikeverdi on 14-04-2014
Waddling with hope
The things we have to endure David, keep fighting and writing old friend.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Well thank you Mike. I now know that the cysts are harmless, so hopefully more scribbling time will be available - at least pro-tem. Sorry. I have become convinced that there is a direct nerve link between the goolie region and the operating memory region in men's brains. Every time there is a slight twinge down below, the brain is told get any available girl to bed asap - before all goes up in smoke. A new disease ? What shall we call it?..... Yours aye, David

pdemitchell on 14-04-2014
Waddling with hope
Hang in there, amigo - pardon the pun! Life and its travails are the only cure for writer's block. If muses be the sharpest spur, write on, dear heart, in hope of health, write on! Mitch 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thank you Mitch, kindly and wise words. It seems hope has triumphed and what there is left below may proceed, but with caution. That's the medispeak, not the muse. As the latter does not believe in caution I am permitted now to continue writing my abrasive nonsense - for which, apologies in advance. Good health to you my friend......David

stormwolf on 16-04-2014
Waddling with hope
haha I don't think you need to go "praying for nibs" David. Your work is always of a very standard IMHO 😉

Sending you love and every good wish (to your ageing goolies an' all 😉 Alison xx


Author's Reply:
Alison, Bless you, your love and good wishes have been overheard in my southern hemisphere - the verdict is harmless - but waddling may persist awhile - ah well, grateful for mobility of any sort. Thank you......David.

Ionicus on 16-04-2014
Waddling with hope
Funny you should mention the brain in relation to the goolies, David, as some women say that a man's brain is situated in his nether regions. Is that what is meant by 'having sex on the brain'? But I digress. Your poem is very revealing and pithy.
I wouldn't worry about your work not living 'in other bardic minds'. It will.


Author's Reply:
Ha Luigi, as you say, another nail in the Ark (not sure if they were invented then) or the Dawkins selfish gene syndrome? Your kind words appreciated - I shudder to think what I have revealed to you, but the poem was written to cheer somebody up. They say that if you have never experienced the block, you are real ego-shit and if you have it permanently you drop the shit bit. I never understand the psycho-babblers anyway. Thanks for your comments - always enjoyed.... David

Mikeverdi on 16-04-2014
Waddling with hope
This idea about the brain connected to the nether regions sounds true to me, it could be the reason for all my philandering; not to mention the three wives 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
I think the new disease is called Sex. Definitely recommended by Mr C. Darwin. Survival of the human race etc. Seriously, having gone through a few days of doubt, my sympathy for you has increased manifold. Sadly bravery in the face of the worst gets you no medals - but it should do. At least your friends can appreciate your courage as I do.......My best, David

ValDohren on 16-04-2014
Waddling with hope
Pleased to learn it was a false alarm David. Great poem.
Val x

Author's Reply:
Thanks Val for your appreciation - always much valued. I think you and I are among the few that try hard to make our work meet the long-accepted standards in the game - every time. On reflection, you do it more often than I do !....XXX...David


The Promise of Chaos. A rhymic summary (posted on: 14-04-14)
A potted recent history, but the end is not yet in sight. This is an experiment. If one uses rhyming couplets, they are said to be acceptable if every line hits the nail in its own right. The poem uses a journalistic approach as an attempt reach that goal. Sorry Nemo ! - ignore - or suffer but survive?......Bozzz.

When all is said, but nothing done, A thousand protests have begun. People meet in squares as one, A boy is killed, who held the gun? A funeral, ten thousand come, Police arrest and injure some. A hundred thousand strong, the mill; Snipers firing now to kill; Riot control with tear gas shells, Many hurt, the anger swells. Now half a million on the streets, Neither side accept retreats. The starving poor fight to exist, All rebels labelled 'terrorist'. Impasse, disorder, Army called, Government completely stalled; Their offices ransacked by mobs, Administrators lose their jobs. Repeated deadlines slipping past, Powerless, the world's aghast. UN pleads negotiate, But who with whom, what's on the plate? Wringing hands, but doing nowt; The fear of war, who's got the clout? Look West, look East, there is no doubt, Sanctions won't bring turn about. But who's to blame for causing this? Europe's in no state of bliss. Spheres of influence in play, Where the big powers have their say. ''At your peril, tread not here, Our tanks will make the meaning clear. So mop your brows, you Western powers, Think not to steal a state near ours. Keep your EU powder dry; Know what you can and cannot try.'' David April 2014
Archived comments for The Promise of Chaos. A rhymic summary
Pelequin23 on 14-04-2014
The Promise of Chaos. A rhymic summary
very apt and the west is just rattling there sabres

Author's Reply:

e-griff on 14-04-2014
The Promise of Chaos. A rhymic summary
Well expressed. I appreciated it.
In terms of presentation, it would be more regular to use the same number of lines in each verse (but you can use an exception if it is dramatically justified) for rhythm, the only change I'd suggest is a 'the' before 'police', which makes it a tiny bit more flowing.

But I would say there is a problem with the rhyming. IMO, you need to have a rhyme scheme throughout, defining each pair, or quadruple, but not changing in every verse, and the near rhyme of come etc with one makes that six lines with similar rhymes.

Sorry to be picky, but I think the value of the content means it's worth getting the presentation right.

Best, JohnG

Author's Reply:
Thanks for your comment and input, John. Re the police, I cannot bring myself to agree with you on whether the extra "the" is better, either gives good flow, and fewer words is my preference. As poetry the piece is interesting rubbish, but as stated, it is a journalistic rhymic summary - more an extract from a notebook. I agree constant verse length is best, but feel in this case it is more important to fit to content - though I will have another look - it will mean changing the latter. Thanks, in friendship...David

Mikeverdi on 14-04-2014
The Promise of Chaos. A rhymic summary
Decade after decade we see the same things happening, only the countries names change; these days they normally end in stan.
Well written piece David
Mike

Author's Reply:
Correct Mike, I am not sure we will all learn to live together until the last surviving couple are swimming nowhere - back to the amoeba stage?. Thanks anyway Yrs, David

Nemo on 15-04-2014
The Promise of Chaos. A rhymic summary
I have to say I'm puzzled - why present this type of subject in the form of a poem and why detract from its seriousness by using rhyming couplets? But it's been given a nib, so I must be out on a limb. Therefore well done, David.
Gerald?

Author's Reply:
Many thanks Gerald. Great response - and I must say your final logic is impeccable. Perhaps it is a case of 'penny plain, tuppence coloured'? But seriously, I guess when we publish a poem, we are all in the entertainment business.....with a wide range of customers to please....David


stormwolf on 15-04-2014
The Promise of Chaos. A rhymic summary
David,
The poem started on a super line...bringing home the contrast to the usual usage i.e. 'all said and done'
the rest then sang along in truth for me.
I try never to judge my comments on another's assessment for then we are rightly or wrongly being 'coloured' in some small way but I feel I have to engage Nemo's comments that make no sense to me.
The poem was powerful and used the rhyming couplets with skill. If expertly done (IMHO) then one can use any form of expression to get the message across as you have done here.
The 'nib' awarding seems to be a source of some malcontent by some. Shame really for in all the years I have been here, I have been most appreciative of any I received but never thought to grumble at any awarded to others.

Anyway, loved it.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Alison, I am sure you see that there is a polite and normally jocular joust going on between Gerald and myself - we enjoy the encounters - certainly I do and I suspect he does and was being deliberately sarcastic. He rates rhyming couplets as the lowest form of writing (I was guilty of provocation) and I call his excellent pieces prose disguised as poetry. I do not think he was seriously belittling the nib system - and as you say - it is often pot luck - who is on duty etc. I confess to the very occasional 'hmm'. C'est la vie.
Luigi supports your view on the couplets, as indeed I do. Thank you for that note and for your ever constructive comments.... XXX David

sweetwater on 15-04-2014
The Promise of Chaos. A rhymic summary
My comments are probably completely irrelevant, but as someone who knows nothing really about the correct in's and out's of poetry , just whether I like it or not, I have to say I do like this It flows nicely and has a strong message. 🙂 Sue x.

Author's Reply:
Hi Sue, Thank you for reading the piece strictly as a poem and for your helpful comment. It was indeed an experiment and as most people seem to accept it as OK, I might try it again on a less disastrous subject. It is my time as a journalist that prompted me to have a go. Cheers..XXX...David

Ionicus on 15-04-2014
The Promise of Chaos. A rhymic summary
There is nothing wrong in debating serious issues by way of a poem and I would disagree that the use of rhyming couplets somehow detracts from the seriousness of the topic. My only nitpicking amounts to this:
UN pleads negotiate, (to negotiate)
But who with who (But who with whom)
My suggestions in brackets.
Best, Luigi.


Author's Reply:
Luigi, Re your suggestions, I buy the second with thanks and am correcting. Your first one has a totally different meaning to my original. Both work rhythmically, but in this case the UN does not itself negotiate - but is a facilitator to same.
Thanks too for the comment on a poem having a serious content (you write many) - and the couplets issue. Please read my reply above to Alison for background. Yours aye....David

Nemo on 16-04-2014
The Promise of Chaos. A rhymic summary
Having read Luigi's comment, I have to come back to this. I did not intend my comment to imply there is something 'wrong' with dealing with this topic in the form of a poem, the wording of my question was about the reason for using a poem in preference to prose. About couplets - all too often when people choose to rhyme they use couplets. Quite often because they think a poem's not a poem if it doesn't rhyme. I may be warped and twisted but I can't get this 'why are you rhyming' out of my head when I read couplets. Again, because I may be warped and twisted, I think couplets are at their best when used to reinforce comic effect. That is why I think they detract from seriousness. If I am the only one who thinks this, I am ready to offer myself to be put against a wall and shot as some sort of unhinged extremist, calling out 'why?' to deaf ears as I fall down on top of a heap of discarded chopped up prose mascarading as poetry.

Author's Reply:
Your points taken. On the question of comic effect I still support Luigi's stance in regard to use in comedy or otherwise. As to use of couplets per se, I think people use rhyme for the sheer pleasure of adding an extra dimension in preference to prose, but I would agree that if it distorts the meaning or significantly lessens the impact just for the sake of getting a rhyme, then that is not ideal. This is what I meant by making sure that the second line hits the nail in its own right and why I chose a journalistic subject. This whole rhyme question often hinges on the quality of the writer's vocabulary and memory - the degree of lateral thinking too. Gerald, I am sure that you will be spared the unthinkable death you have concocted in delightfully perfect prose. But I must say I recall you saying "why not" in response to a past rant of mine against free verse. I hope you read my response to Alison above - fun in challenge ! In friendship and Kameradschaft as Peter Pommer might say ...David

ValDohren on 16-04-2014
The Promise of Chaos. A rhymic summary
Prose v rhyme - why is it such an issue. It's the impact of a 'poem' on the reader that counts for me, whether it rhymes or not. There are so many different styles of writing, and each should be valued in its own right - the one proviso being that it is good writing. I feel the same way about music and art. I liked it David, rhyming couplets notwithstanding.
Val x

Author's Reply:
Thanks Val, you have a balanced view. My submission in this case was experimental, but I admit to a teasing jocular dig at Gerald knowing his views on the subject. He is well able to respond and did so.
An amicable discussion in my book and all part of the poetic scene. Cheers, David

Nemo on 17-04-2014
The Promise of Chaos. A rhymic summary
David,
Our exchanges seem to of interest to others so perhaps I should be careful what I say. How easily one may be misunderstood! Further to the above exchanges, I wish to add that I do not wish anyone to think I was questioning the nib system in my comment on your poem. I would rather it were taken that, if I come across a poem awarded a nib, I question my own critical faculties if I cannot immediately perceive why the award has been made. I rely on the nib awarders being spot on so that I have dependable yardsticks of standard against which to measure my own efforts. As regards rhyme, I agree that there is a certain artistic joy to be had from achieving a felicitous arrangement of rhymes on a blank page. I have rhymed a few myself and posted them on this site. If I have a stance on rhyme, it is one most people probably share - there is nothing worse than a poem driven by rhyme, where the rhyme comes crashing back with utter predictability and which causes the writer to distort word order and/or resort to archaic vocabulary. This is probably why many publishers specify non-rhyming poetry. Here endeth ....

Author's Reply:


Nous rions (posted on: 11-04-14)
Why should the ladies write all the love stuff? We hear of many of today's sorrows, but surely there must have been some earlier joy to write about too? Most of my poems of that ilk were written between lectures at college - Aerodynamics and Structures. OK, yes it shows. but come on lads, let's hear it from you !

Nous rions The gentle lightness of a lilting laugh that drains all misery to earth, is yours to wield and better by a half when we together multiply our mirth. In coral red your lips devise a smile that turns the oval of a face to round. I love you Meg and revel oft awhile in echo of our correlated sound. Tho' land divide us, never time, nor god, nor human part, ourselves that love in measured rhyme and tenderness of heart. Let the earth in orbit climb, And ether fill the sky that thoughts of love may ever prime the day for you and I. David 1946
Archived comments for Nous rions
stormwolf on 11-04-2014
Nous rions
Exquisite! Brought a tear to my eye it did. Beautiful olde worlde feeling and intensely romantic.
Happy to nominate.
Alison x

Author's Reply:
Well, shiver my timbers Alison, still numb with shock and surprise - your gift is for both of us, because the poem was hidden away at the end of my first notebook - I discovered it only on Thursday and Meg had not seen it for nearly 70 years. Deepest thanks.....David

Mikeverdi on 11-04-2014
Nous rions
And you love her still, and me on my third. Wonderful writing David, so nice to see your softer side.
Keep well old friend... And give her a hug from me 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
A hug from you, a poem from me and a Nom from Alison - downright spoilt she is. Thanks Mike, good friend.....David

Pelequin23 on 11-04-2014
Nous rions
beautiful write creates a nice feeling within

Author's Reply:
I suppose a nice feeling inside is what one should try for in a love poem - might find it difficult to do today. after 65 years together, but who knows ! Thank you Pelequin for your generous encouragement

ValDohren on 12-04-2014
Nous rions
Lovely David, you old romantic !! Congrats on the nib and nom.
Val

Author's Reply:
Thank you kind Val, romanticism does leak out d'occasion, though one might not think it possible when the rants are on the run. Secular blessings, ..David

Kipper on 13-04-2014
Nous rions
Well done David for deserved accolades. Your poem has lasted well and it is a delightful thought that after all this time your Meg has heard it again.
Best wishes to you both.
Michael.

Author's Reply:
My thanks, Michael, but oh dear, life is fun. Her remark after she read it this time "I did not think you could write such a sophisticated love poem at that age" !!. The "Put down" of the year - yes, but I am sure I deserve every one that comes my way. In friendship.....David


30-second Russian tragedy (posted on: 07-04-14)
I recall the approximate words of Tommy Handleys 30-second Russian tragedy on the radio as a masterpiece of atmospheric compression. Set in a dacha near Omsk. Cast, Uncle Vanyas wife (a deaf old lady), her servant, Uncle Vanya (asleep) and Uncle Vanyas nephew.

''It's raining''. ''It always rains in Russia''. ''What did he say''? ''He said it always rains in Russia'' ''Ohhh''. ''I'm going to shoot Uncle Vanya'' ''What did he say''? Bannnnngg ''He said he's going to shoot Uncle Vanya'' ''Ohhh. Tell him not to do it on a Friday''. ''It's Thursday''. ''Ohhh''.
Archived comments for 30-second Russian tragedy
Nomenklatura on 07-04-2014
30-second Russian tragedy
It's that man again!
Thanks for making me laugh.

Author's Reply:
Obviously she's done you now.

Mikeverdi on 07-04-2014
30-second Russian tragedy
Indeed, I second 'It's that man again' I'm thinking Bozz rather than Handley 🙂

Author's Reply:
She's done you now sir. Feel better ?
Yrs...D

stormwolf on 07-04-2014
30-second Russian tragedy
LOL! I wondered how you were going to do a spot of drama in 30 secs and now I know. Brilliant!
Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Funny how some ridiculous scenes stay on one's memory. This one is a useful party piece.
Thanks Alison. Hope to see you posting soon...XXX..David

Andrea on 08-04-2014
30-second Russian tragedy
Can I do yer now, Sir?

Author's Reply:
Will I feel better?

stormwolf on 08-04-2014
30-second Russian tragedy
I have posted this week David. I am last in the heap below lol 😜 x

Author's Reply:

Ionicus on 10-04-2014
30-second Russian tragedy
Well done tovarich. Nice to see how Checkhov could have improved his play.

Author's Reply:
Perhaps you fancy writing a play, Luigi. I would certainly hope be invited to its first night. Just thinking of all those breathtaking scenes in which you are in hot pursuit.
I wrote one once for our village players in which we converted the big cricket field atop our hill into an airfield, Gunville International. Trouble was, all the customs staff were permanently drunk on confiscated liquour. It was a roaring flop because the only sober one confiscated a copy of Playboy being smuggled in by the local Lord of the Manor. Not done in these parts Mr B


Pollution. The last to know (posted on: 07-04-14)
The smog of history descends on perfidious Albion. Payback time? Has reality been hidden from us? A glimpse of the worst, but hope for the best.

Some walk in darkness, others light; Who the devil? Who all might? Yet in the grey there's you and me, the billions in man's family tree. We work to seek life's best solution; Can't avoid our own pollution. But windless day, a sandstorm then, Europa's murk has come again. The diesel fumes, our cars don't care, while politicians speak foul air. ''Environment Now let me think: the stuff we breathe and eat and drink? We can't afford to keep them good. 'Theconomy', that's understood". The hearts and lungs Of me and you, Now mincemeat for The turning screw. The money machine that grinds all day, With far more work for much less pay. Slow poisoning of what we need to live a life in love and breed. Invisible and void of smell, the toxins in the rain that fell. Begin to taint the wheat and grass; our bread and milk that come to pass. The killing fields, our pastures new; who'll die before they find the clue? ''Sorry chaps", Our George will say. "Wer'e all together ‒ On our way. But we'll survive and you may go, Because you'll be last to know". David April 2014
Archived comments for Pollution. The last to know
Mikeverdi on 07-04-2014
Pollution. The last to know
David you are what poets should be, while scribblers like me bemoan my own fate, you are the conscience of the nation. Excellent writing my friend.

Author's Reply:

sweetwater on 07-04-2014
Pollution. The last to know
This is a huge issue with me, we all need decent land, clean air and 'good' food, but sadly it is all being taken from us by short sighted money grabbers. You have summed that up perfectly. Sue.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Sue, it's a right mess, as the poem is too, attempting to say too much, I fear. Got to keep trying....David

ValDohren on 07-04-2014
Pollution. The last to know
Well said David, we all agree here so there is little else to add. Just need to go and scrub the Sahara Desert off my car.
Val

Author's Reply:
And from my ;lungs. Actually down in the middle of nowhere in Dorset we got off quite lightly.
Thanks Val for your support....David

stormwolf on 07-04-2014
Pollution. The last to know
Wonderfully dark and insightful David ;-(

Ain't that just the way of it.
Alison xx

Author's Reply:
Thanks Alison, you see it well. It's the ricochets that count, but the crowd are too busy counting the Miller gaffes !

pdemitchell on 09-04-2014
Pollution. The last to know
Powerful stuff that reminds me of me a bit. We do do da dark don't we doh! Well writ. mitch :0)

Author's Reply:
Dark maybe, but a tinge of humour for those willing to see it, hopefully? Thanks Mitch.

Ionicus on 10-04-2014
Pollution. The last to know
Y ou made a good argument of economy versus ecology, David.
Your last stanza seems to suggest that somehow politicians are immune from the perils of pollution or is it a dig at the way the current establishment deals with the issue? It is always fashionable to blame the government of the day. We have a say in Italy (piove, governo ladro) which literally translated means that those in authority are so corrupt that even the bad weather is due to them.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Luigi, for your comments. The Italian anecdote you quote is so true, but your interpretation of my last verse is not quite what I intended, It is a simple fact that in almost all the worldwide major land and chemical pollution disasters, Italy's included, the affected public have been the last to be told. It is also a fact that the toffs are wealthy enough to be living in circumstances where there is little risk of disaster and to flee quickly when anything nasty arises. Just my view. As in science, most claimed truth is based on statistical likelihood !!
Cheers, David


Can you believe your ears? (posted on: 04-04-14)
An old wives tale, or just the Devil's work?

I have this dream, what mothers say, the damn thing never disappears, reminding me throughout the day to wash behind my filthy ears. Polluted by the sound of man, my inner voices often swear. The grot collects, a caravan like camel farts in desert air. But how to live, collect this dirt, yet keep one's mind and body clean? 'Go shower and change your pants and shirt each time you sniff where you have been'? But smell themselves, the humans can't Their maker slipped up, it appears. ''Go hear your pongs'', the Devil's chant ''They live behind your filthy ears'' David April 2014
Archived comments for Can you believe your ears?
Mikeverdi on 04-04-2014
Can you believe your ears?
Oh deary me David , I fear the floods have got to you Ha Ha!

Author's Reply:
Dead right my friend, have not had a bath since the Somerset levels subsided. Nowhere else to have a dip. Back on polemics next week.....Yours aye, David

QBall on 04-04-2014
Can you believe your ears?
Plop-plop the ancient seer says, camels crap through triangular arseholes, hence the pyramids.
Nice one, son.
Les Q.


Author's Reply:
H2S, Hydrogen disulphide - the killer fart. But I thought that was the new railway line.
Thanks Les for visit and mark. ....David

pommer on 05-04-2014
Can you believe your ears?
Great David, Mrs .Bouquet (Bucket) wouldn't have liked you as a paperboy.Ha Ha, Be lucky,Peter

Author's Reply:
Hi Peter, I think the original idea came from France where the standard greeting is the double cheek to cheek encounter - a social check ensuring that the ears get washed each day ? Worth a try anyway !
Talking of try - we older folk do have to try harder in this respect. Thanks for comment... Salaam...David

Pelequin23 on 06-04-2014
Can you believe your ears?
this is why humans are designed with the nose so far from the bottom otherwise we never stop cleaning ourselves lol

Author's Reply:
Smell yourself as others smell you. Good market for self-pong electronic sniff sensor for iphones. You have to hold it under your arms or between the legs - no good by the ears. Also detects pheromones for use at parties and in Tube trains.
Thanks for comment mate......David

Ionicus on 06-04-2014
Can you believe your ears?
It smells fishy to me, David.

Author's Reply:
Another brilliant innovation bites the dust. Luigi, you are a ruthless capitalist after all. All your exciting stories of the chase are a facade. I have had fish two days running so you may well be right. Thank you, my friend - as ever...David.


The Moscow Asylum (posted on: 31-03-14)
The madness of a scientist in Moscow.

Kruschev was still in power in 1963, but the cold war was gradually fading. Our company, an American conglomerate, was bidding for part of the massive expansion of telephone networks in the USSR. The Russians wanted modern communications systems technology, but made a condition that the successful bidder would also have to send over its technical experts in microelectronics for discussions and seminars on the way forward. We had to present a series of lectures at Moscow University. Having been deposited in one of Moscow's older large hotels, introduction to our guides and a vodka party was the next event - My guide was a top official in the Kremlin, he was a jovial character who had previously been assigned to Bangkok and, according to informed company sources, was renowned as a skilled operative in the industrial spying arena and also in whatever else was rumoured to go on in that aptly named city. With previous experience of attempts to recruit me by the Russian Embassy in London, I was extremely careful. As with all large Soviet hotels at that time, on every landing in a corner there was a grim-faced, well-fed elderly woman seated and permanently asleep. Seemingly her sole function was to collect tips - for services unknown and sometimes nod; there was nothing else that I ever saw her do. Within my room stood a large central round table, a comfortable bed, a chair and a small desk. Beneath the table I noticed a cast iron spider structure that probably held the chain for the chandelier hanging in the bedroom below and I deduced that this was also where the microphone was hidden. Having nearly killed Lady Dora Russell at her Beacon Hill School by unleashing a chandelier and been expelled when I was five years old, I did not want to risk a second expulsion. I left it well alone. Next day I woke feeling feverish. The company medic divined that I was not too good and had me whisked into a nearby hospital - probably a delayed adverse effect of the pre-travel inoculations, he thought. Being whizzed chairborne through the corridors you could see that they were spotlessly clean; as was my private room. All the nurses wore dark blue starched ankle-length A-line crinoline skirts; it was like an image from the Crimean war and in one of my repeated deliriums I felt certain that Florence Nightingale would appear at any moment. The reality was different. Characters kept popping in and out of my room. Each pretended to adjust something that did not need adjusting, washed their hands and then went out again. At first it seemed like curiosity; they merely wanted to see what a sick Englishman looked like. But gradually it began to dawn on me. I was under observation. It was not a hospital at all, but a lunatic asylum. I had been kidnapped. My visit to Moscow had only one purpose; giving lectures at the University. Several times in the past in London their so-called 'commercial attachs' had tried to persuade me to come to an embassy 'party' to meet fellow experts a well-known slippery slope. On UK Government security advice I had always refused. Now they had me. Probably it wasn't the inoculation at all, but something put in my food. How could I have been so foolish? Am I strong enough to make a dash for it? My clothes were not in the room. A pyjama-clad man on the run in a Soviet mental hospital. Not much chance. Likely a bullet in the back and questions afterwards. Just as I was summoning enough strength to get out of bed, a beefy lady doctor burst into the room. This is it. Now I knew the score exactly. She had only come to check body size and assess the right dose level. Injections would quickly follow. Here lies one quackless duck; another slave scientist destined for outer Siberia. Without a word she proceeded to press everywhere that mattered; and elsewhere. To her I was but one more lump of paralysed meat for the next train to Omsk. A short pause to make a note and then strangely she started to poke her finger into many more bodily crannies than might be considered necessary. Obviously she was looking for something hidden bugs? I am sure James Bond would not have tolerated the intrusions without masculine revenge, but her ugliness apart, I felt too weak to consider response. All she could muster in English at the end was a disgusted, "You vil liv", and marched out as suddenly as she had entered. Two days later, one living, maddened but hopefully sane Brit also marched out. Their parting gift lay unopened in my desk drawer for fifty years ; a small box of Russian aspirins. Since sent to M for analysis. Only after we returned to England did the company medic tell me that he too had suspected something far more sinister than inoculation fever.
Archived comments for The Moscow Asylum
pommer on 31-03-2014
The Moscow Asylum
Well David, what a fascinating tale.I enjoyed reading it.It always brings back memories of the Eastern Block.I am glad they didn't send you to one of their Gulags.Thank you for sharing. Peter.

Author's Reply:
Peter, your visit is beyond the call of friendship - a kindness I will not forget. This piece too was an experiment into the prose field - no rhymes, no humour - just a shit scared Englishman ! Secular blessings...David

QBall on 01-04-2014
The Moscow Asylum
Are you sure your name isn't, Bond, James Bond?
I like the way you have written this. Is it fact or fiction?

Author's Reply:
Well thank you Q. for that honour - great indeed. The whole truth I assure you - and the name's Bozzz, but my friends call me David. Just another boffin. My science - microelectronics - silicon chips and all that nonsense. Oh, and the 10 much appreciated- my first for prose writing......Bozzz


Lifting the Iron Curtain. (posted on: 31-03-14)
Nemo-logically inspired, is this strange prose incident from 50 years ago, disguised as poetry. A true story; bit long too. Must observe the etiquette, stay in fashion !

Determined to explore what bandy legs could do, I strayed several 'versts' away from my hotel. Found myself at the wrong end of the Red Square. From out of the blue a taxi came prowling gently towards me across the concrete lake, with intent, like a sickle, clothed in red samite, mystic, ominous, a vulture circling, sensing imminent death. Fatigue overcame trepidation Obedient prey, I hailed it. As the door opened, a blast of alcoholic vapour hit me. "Be brave, David, do not show fear. Remember the etiquette lesson". I climbed in beside the driver. Then, as if a crazed rocket launcher we drove in solo parade across the middle of the square. No roaring crowds welcoming, no Khrushchev to wave us by, but meandering fashion - befitting the driver's state. Suddenly he stopped, leaned over, put his bearded face in mine and said "Capitaliste or Socialiste"? My head dropped; the shock of the question. About to have my throat cut? I saw the big American cigar in my top pocket. Immediately pulled it out, then waving it aloft before giving it to him, I shouted "Capitaliste". It was the right answer. There was a great roar of delight, another session of violent drunken swerves and we were back at the hotel. A Capitaliste-size bill ! Best of friends. David March 2014
Archived comments for Lifting the Iron Curtain.
Mikeverdi on 31-03-2014
Lifting the Iron Curtain.
Knowing you has improved my appreciation of your writing David, more of you're biography please.
Mike

Author's Reply:
My thanks friend for your confidence. Yes I have seen some dirty corners of the world - will try to oblige. But mixing humour with shit is a tough ask. Apols for delay in response. Cheers, David

pommer on 31-03-2014
Lifting the Iron Curtain.
I like it.You being capitaliste I can at least call you Gospodin David.My little yoke as I would have pronounced it years ago.I am glad it wasn't the NKVD cruising. Take care, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Hi Peter, not sure about Gospodin, it has so many meanings - as does yoke for that matter. but I do not do tweet any more - far too dangerous for a loquacious bloke like me. Anyway, thank you for taking the trouble to suffer by reading my experimental entry into Nemoland. I have no suitable bravery award to offer at the moment. Cheers, David

Nemo on 01-04-2014
Lifting the Iron Curtain.
An elegantly chopped up story, David. The masterly layout makes for easy reading with a certain whimsical rhythm which lifts the banal subject matter into the realms of ethereal and unsettlingly moving and cathartic poetry. Haunting and inspirational writing which like a throbbing sore keeps one awake at night long after it has been read.
Chapeau bas, Gerald.



Author's Reply:
Dear Gerald, I almost clicked the abuse button in shock/laughter and much appreciate your whimsical and pointedly witty kindness ! Yes banal is the right word, but I think I have not quite caught the sheer political absurdity of the situation - a drunken taxi driver meandering across the middle of an otherwise deserted red square - and bearing a terrified Capitalist - symbolic? Any suggestions? With thanks...David

Ionicus on 01-04-2014
Lifting the Iron Curtain.
Be wary of straying into somebody elses's territory, David. Your own backyard is safer ground.
Best, Luigi

Author's Reply:
Truth is, Luigi, Mammon and Her Majesty are tough masters - its the despicable and the empirical versus the expendible. Who wins?. Thanks for visit....David.

QBall on 01-04-2014
Lifting the Iron Curtain.
Takes me back to the bad old days behind the iron curtain. I strayed there once in Berlin in 1950.
Interesting interpretation.

Author's Reply:
My visit was to give a lecture at Moscow University - on vacuum deposition of nickel chromium alloy and gold on to glass - miniaturising electronic circuitry - big deal, Thanks for your visit, Bozzz

pdemitchell on 03-04-2014
Lifting the Iron Curtain.
Nice Traveliste episode - vodka; the bringer of truth and crippled livers where the state of your shoes defines your status (mud = walking poor and clean = taxi-riding elite). хорошее здоровье! Mitch

Author's Reply:


Beware the bathroom - and it's England, not South Africa. (posted on: 28-03-14)
The risk assessment engineer has bardic ambitions. Sadly it shows in his latest technical report. Male readers with sensitive natures - suggest avoid this one.

The bathroom, not the safest place for any man to be, for danger lurks at every turn, the hazards you don't see. These words pursue the likelihoods, but poetry it 'aint, yes, reaching for an aspirin, a move that may well hasten the thoughts of sudden heart attack ‒ bring dizziness, you faint, your body slumps, your brain is crushed, your forehead's hit the basin. Next the soap that slips from hand when washing in the shower, You stoop to pick it up and send a blood rush to your head. Again the brain can't take the strain, there's loss of mental power, then stumble, crash, bring shattered glass, your artery is bled. Shaving brings diurnal stress to mojo, mind and matter. You spend the day in growing hair, then mow it off each morn you do the same again, again, the madness of the hatter. Eventually you're put away can't say I did not warn you. But stretching for the toilet roll while straining; touch too hard, a lung is burst that brings the worst, heart failure, instant parting. Make sure the roll's in easy reach, your colon is on guard. Too bad my friend to meet your end when you were only farting. The surest sign of early death, the bathroom mirror's boss. ''Is that me, that awful sight? Stay under eight today ! Tomorrow I'll not touch a drop, go shoot my albatross, then nine last drinks will do no harm ‒ and maybe ten's OK''. David Almost April 1st 2014
Archived comments for Beware the bathroom - and it's England, not South Africa.
sweetwater on 28-03-2014
Beware the bathroom - and it’s England, not South Africa.
This is great, so funny. I love the shaving verse, especially..each morn you, to match with did not warn you. that was clever. May be safer to shoot the assessor!

Author's Reply:
Got your message, Sue. Blades in place this time - assessor dead. Thank you for visit and comment....David

pommer on 28-03-2014
Beware the bathroom - and it’s England, not South Africa.
Like it David,decided only to shave every third day.I like the last two lines of the penultimate verse .the whole thing made me chuckle.Well done, Peter

Author's Reply:
Thanks Peter, for comment, Rather a ragged piece I thought, but what can you expect from a hazard and risk assessor. Re shaving I do so only when cheek to cheek contact is inevitable... afraid that's about every other day......Oh boy, am I lucky....David

pdemitchell on 29-03-2014
Beware the bathroom - and it’s England, not South Africa.
A rare bit of humour to brighten my day and all from experience of course. Mitch 😉

Author's Reply:
Hi Mitch, Day-brightener? You are meant to be scared out of your pants - never to wash again. Ah well - mission abandoned - civilisation saved. Thanks for comment...David

jdm4454 on 29-03-2014
Beware the bathroom - and it’s England, not South Africa.
Funny, but poignant....a direct hit. Thanks for the great read(indeed). jim

Author's Reply:
Well thanks Jim for your life-saving words and mark. Truly it was just a dig at my one-time profession - the daily task was finding holes in companies' products claimed as being safe for public use. Could not find your entry this time. My best...David

ValDohren on 30-03-2014
Beware the bathroom - and it’s England, not South Africa.
Very amusing David - throws a whole new light on bathroom activities !
Val

Author's Reply:
Thanks for the visit Val. A bit quirky this one. Actually intended to throw light on the devious minds of the safety engineers. I think Pistorius will probably get away with it..... David

chant_z on 30-03-2014
Beware the bathroom - and it’s England, not South Africa.
Very clever craft. The humour is pretty particular and that's very likeable I think. Great!

Author's Reply:
I think your comment on the humour is spot on. Thank you for you kind judgement too.
I do admit that I am not the best judge of your style of work - but I try to comprehend within the thickness level of my Sunday mind. All the best...David

Mikeverdi on 31-03-2014
Beware the bathroom - and it’s England, not South Africa.
So sorry David I thought I had commented, another wry look at life from you; nice to see humour creeping back into the verse.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Apology not needed Mike, for I too am guilty. "Wry" - you persistently find the right word - as Djokovic finds the right tennis shot - your skill. Thanks and best wishes...David

Kipper on 03-04-2014
Beware the bathroom - and it’s England, not South Africa.
I may never visit the bathroom again - nurse!
Very funny to start a new day (1.25. am)
Michael

Author's Reply:
Hello Michael, 1 am in the morning, a nurse, a bathroom - are you ok? - not in hospital I hope What have I done !!. If all else fails, just wash behind your ears - my mother told me that is where the bad pongs live. Good luck friend...David


Budget for bankers set by wankers (posted on: 21-03-14)
Bankers now allowed to spend their pension pots how they wish. They have bought up all the worlds alcohol supplies. Sorry about that friends. I stocked up.

While wankers rule our bankers fool, they've blown their pot the bloody lot - all their pensions gone on drink. The House of Commons bar run dry, and members never stop to think, can't understand the reason why. With banker's billions down the drain, the workers cannot now complain. Seeing 'moneybaggers' on the dole, is good for everybody's soul. But pubs are empty, nowt to sell, supermarket shelves as well. The world is saved, no drunkards left, of MPs now we stand bereft. With bank toffs in their spirit stores already crawling on all fours, the clerks, still in their work apparel, lie flat beside each empty barrel. The Pound now weak, the Dollar tight. top wanker George, stays out of sight. David Budget day, March 2014
Archived comments for Budget for bankers set by wankers
sweetwater on 21-03-2014
Budget for bankers set by wankers
Enjoyed this very much, similar'ish to one I have ready to post for monday, although I think I prefer this one to mine, 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thank you Sue for your kind comment. I will be looking out next week for your piece !
Greetings, David

Ionicus on 22-03-2014
Budget for bankers set by wankers
I am not a banker, David, so I have no axe to grind but it amazes me that we always hear about the bankers' excesses and yet no one seems to mention the footballers' salaries. Wayne Rooney: £300,000 a week and there are many more highly paid. Aren't they worth a ditty or two?

Author's Reply:
Luigi, as you well know, footballers are excused everything - but their period of useful life is short. nevertheless you are right, they are worth a ditty - and provided your nerves will withstand the opprobrium, i suggest you have a go - or we could have a combined assault of some sort? Thanks for the comment....David

pdemitchell on 22-03-2014
Budget for bankers set by wankers
Banker - a sharp rhymer's perfect target.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Mitch - apt, concise, explicit - perfect comment...David

Nemo on 23-03-2014
Budget for bankers set by wankers
Bankers deserve to be vilified in rhyming verse and I can approve of couplets used in satire. I won't check your meter but no doubt it's perfect. Cheers, Gerald.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Gerald. In these times of hardship, I must be grateful for small mercies. On this occasion, your permission joyfully received. . Greetings, David


Game and end-game (posted on: 14-03-14)
You have to just smile and say, they know not what they do.

You feel it creeping nearer year by year, the wasteland as your ageing limbs sit wrong. Each minor nudge invites another fear, ''Too old for this my friend, but come along''. From deep fine leg to umpire, hard to take. The saddest move a cricketer can make. For no one wants to see your googly now, the one they hit that killed a sleeping cow. Nor watch your nicks and nudges, last man in, the sitters dropped, your wides the final spin. When legs grow pain at ankle, hip and knee, The doctor points a misspent youth for blame. 'Fair wear and tear' is no sweet balm to me, another push towards the ending game. Pathway to this, a road to that, now planned, the medics plot your standard deathly route, as if their words give comfort on demand while gently putting in the final boot ! David March 2014
Archived comments for Game and end-game
sweetwater on 14-03-2014
Game and end-game
I really enjoyed this, very clever, can empathise with the sentiments too, sadly.

Author's Reply:
Thank you, I try not to write about the sad things, and if I do, then with an underlying humour. Your comments much appreciated.....David

jdm4454 on 14-03-2014
Game and end-game
Ha...old people as our bodies begin to wear out, the 30somethings tend to see the rotting shell and forget the brain and spirit remain forever young. thanks, jim

Author's Reply:
You have it right, Jim. As you must realise, I am a tad older than you, but am reluctant to lie down and take what befits my age. Bless you for your encouragement.....David

Mikeverdi on 14-03-2014
Game and end-game
Ah David, No one wants to see my googly either 🙂
Another enjoyable read my friend.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Hi Friend. Did you know that our pilots flying over the Burmese jungle during the war against Japan carried "goolie chits". Some were shot down. These documents promised the locals a big reward if the pilot was returned with his balls and testicles intact. It was the tradition among the wilder tribes to castrate invaders.
A googly by any other name, as it were....Thanks Mike - hang on in there......David

MrMarmite on 14-03-2014
Game and end-game
The aging process is something we all have to go through,but if you can meet it with humour it may help with the aches and pains ? Don't like Cricket as football's my game,but like this !

Author's Reply:
I remember your previous joyful poetry about football. Thanks Kevin for commenting because I had thought the ending was a bit humorous, but maybe it was not clear enough.....David

Savvi on 14-03-2014
Game and end-game
Its just not cricket, I thought the last line was very funny and did the job but half expected the last word to be spin ? this is very good and a splendid read on quite a few levels. Best Keith

Author's Reply:
Thank you Keith for kind words and I am delighted to accept your generous offer of "spin". now incorporated - much better, adds a new humorous twist - ha ha. Greetings...David.

Ionicus on 15-03-2014
Game and end-game
You realise the medics 'deathly route' when you see the initials DNR, David, and that is definitely 'the final boot'. Are we worried? Nay, keep smiling.
End-game well expressed. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
Best, Luigi


Author's Reply:
Written to tease an eminent doctor who is a member of our poetry reading group - and was a cricketer like me. Luigi, may I look forward to seeing an Italian team at Lords very soon? You have done Rugby well, now why not take the next step to becoming a Northern European country? Thanks for reading and consolation anyway - good friend....David

stormwolf on 15-03-2014
Game and end-game
Written in your own unique style mixing humour with pathos.
Stay awhile yet my friend, I enjoy your company.
Alison x

Author's Reply:
Dear Friend, with your company around to give me strength, I feel good enough to make my ton and drill a few more balls down the pitch - even knock down a few more iconic stumps with underhand daisy-cutters ! Thank you Alison for your own inspirational pieces - pour encourager les autres. With love....David

pommer on 15-03-2014
Game and end-game
Written as well as ever.not being a cricketer, who at watching my first cricket match many years ago with my wife, who was a keen cricket follower, I was most disturbed when she told me that someone had just bowled a maiden over.I wanted to know if the poor girl had been hurt badly!!!Ha Ha.Well never mind David,I hope you will be around a long time yet.I shall certainly try.From one old codger to another, be lucky. Peter

Author's Reply:
Hi Peter, Having written my reply to Ionicus re Italy, I am now tempted to speculate that had our own two respective countries' mutual conflict brought a different result, there might well have been Germanic cricket teams throughout our land. Oops. Just a thought ! As it is, we have to make do with Strauss and Kieswetter. There was the famous commentator's unintentional gaffe which speaks of a true test match situation "The bowler's Holding, the batsman's Willey" Oh dear !.....David

Kipper on 17-03-2014
Game and end-game
Hi Bozzz,
It seems that there quite a few of us not far behind you, who like you are not yet ready to call 'stumps'. What a great team we would make.
Oh, and the poem is pretty good too except for 'putting the boot in'. Football? How did that get in there.
Great stuff, Michael

Author's Reply:
Come come Michael. The boot is an excellent object for causing the patient to be given out... LBW.
Thanks for comment friend ! David

Tasha-ann on 18-03-2014
Game and end-game
I like the rhythm in this one and the final line is excellent... tasha

Author's Reply:
Thank you Tasha for your kind comment and mark. But I do admit that the final line was tongue in cheek as we all know that in most cases there is well-meaning care and kindness at the end. One can be tempted in everyday poetry to quote cliches - bad practice ! ...David

Popeye on 20-03-2014
Game and end-game
Know how you feel 🙂 excellent write, thoroughly enjoyed.

??The doctor points a misspent youth for blame?
The doctor points at misspent youth for blame


Author's Reply:
Thanks Davy for your comment and kind mark. Agree that the question mark is not needed - many thanks for noting that too. greetings...David


Succinct advice for modern English roses (posted on: 10-03-14)
What is an English rose, the human version? The UKA Agony uncle strikes again. The different types must take their pain.

Wild rose Why peel the petals from your loins to slake the lust of man? Why take him at his word as true, when all he wants is sex with you. Prim rose Why heed his need, just let him pine and wait upon your choice. A pre-nupt first, prepare for worst before you let his passion burst. Bush rose Behind the gooseberries you lie Fifteen, he wants it bad. For puppy love, if you say ''Yes'', can your parents fund the mess? Climbing rose Why look for love when comfort's first, security the key. Make lucred pheromones your call and only then receive his all. Rambling rose Why spread your favours far and wide, die lonely on the shelf? Pursuit of men on pleasure bent will not for ever pay the rent. David. March 2014
Archived comments for Succinct advice for modern English roses
Mikeverdi on 10-03-2014
Succinct advice for modern English roses
Oh David you are awful! ....but I like you 🙂 On the money as usual mate, another great look at life through you're practiced eye.
Mike

Author's Reply:
My aunt is long dead. My being "awful" must surely have been what took her - the shock of realising the family had been repeatedly disgraced. Thanks Mike, for finding me ! Practiced eye, begorra.

Kipper on 10-03-2014
Succinct advice for modern English roses
So nicely observed and I am bound to wonder if I should envy you.
And may I say, that no maiden aunt of mine would have been offended by such gentle erotica.
Michael

Author's Reply:
Hi Michael, not certain on what aspect you should envy me - my good fortune to have had insight to the nature of a few roses, perhaps? Well some say the art of erotica is what is left unsaid, but finding just the right words to suit the intended audience is also a candidate - not suggesting for a moment that you are anybody's maiden uncle - should such an entity exist. Thanks my friend. ...David

pdemitchell on 10-03-2014
Succinct advice for modern English roses
Hi David. Excellent pastoral pastiche of the English-ish Rose. Only another 2,375 Rosaceae varieties in 95 genera to go - so get cracking! Mitch

Author's Reply:
OMG - lovely job for life. Can I get a new government subsidy for employing you and a few thousand others to help me for six months - courtesy of E.Miliband. Thanks for comment ...David

ChairmanWow on 11-03-2014
Succinct advice for modern English roses
A metaphor that just keeps working.



Ralph

Author's Reply:
From his recent writings, I suspect that a new classification of English rose is being nurtured by my friend Luigi. "Susceptible". It is unusual in that it blooms all year round. He aims to abolish use of your metaphor.
Hope that is OK....David

Ionicus on 11-03-2014
Succinct advice for modern English roses
David, it may be sound advice to the maidens but you are ruining it for the randy devils (there are still few of us left I'll have you know).
There was a time when a pre-nuptial agreement wasn't needed, an engagement ring sealed the contract.

Luigi:-)

Author's Reply:
I think, to be fair, the Government should be asked to consider introducing Luigi's Law. This gives the right of all randy devils to have access to the list of English roses who have previously proved impervious to randy devil attempts at seduction. This will reduce male mortality rates because, as you well know, it is not sex that kills you, but the running around after it. David

jdm4454 on 11-03-2014
Succinct advice for modern English roses
Clever, David, discerning and witty....... "a rose by any other name..." is still the running around after it. This should be labled a good read.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Jim for your generous comment and mark. I thought it was only Mulberry bushes that you ran around. Like the monkey puzzle tree (araucaria), rose bushes are seldom circumferentially navigable except in pragmatic terms. Oh, and usually in a sufficiently long perimeter to make sexual contact nigh impossible. Good luck - applause for trying things out at Uni.....David

Nemo on 12-03-2014
Succinct advice for modern English roses
Witty stuff indeed, David. You know what turns prose into poetry.
Regards, Gerald.

Author's Reply:
Gerald, you too are more than a touch of witty devilment - love it - and many thanks for kindness.

sweetwater on 12-03-2014
Succinct advice for modern English roses
Throughly enjoyed this, the erotica was as gentle and beautiful as the roses themselves. Useful too as a warning to all young women 🙂

Author's Reply:
Well thank you Sweetwater, that is as charming and tidy a complement as any agony uncle could wish for.
My thanks too for visiting....best wishes for good luck on this site...David.

QBall on 03-04-2014
Succinct advice for modern English roses
You must be careful handling a rose; you may prick yourself. Nicely put without offending. My only erotic writing appears this week, In Search of a Sixth Spouse.

Author's Reply:


A penny more? The Blissco Superdownmarket dilemma (posted on: 07-03-14)
That metaphorical 'penny more to offset the cost of better inspection might improve image and gain more sales. Worth it? Waitrose 20 miles, Blissco 5 miles. Guess where we go.

In Blissco's coolest world of 'fruit-n-veg', One sees the classic mix the world requires, The 'almost there' that teeters on the edge Of what the busy shopping wife desires. Yes they have bananas by the ton, Each pack with just that tiny niggling flaw. Perfection's not affordable for some; For that they'd need to charge a penny more. Peruse the packs of grapes to find the best. There are none; only seconds fill the shelves; Not quite sweet or not quite ripe, they rest, For just a penny more, might suit ourselves? The apples in cosmetic pride sit firm, Grown to stay good looking to the end, Guaranteed you will not find a worm, But flavour's gone, one penny more to spend? The pears sit, thicker skinned than Blissco's boss. The taste of sweetness masks the tang of fruit. Alas, he'd have to sell them at a loss, A penny more can't hope to make them suit. Take now the massive melons on their perches, Ends fingered, sniffed, replaced, by half the world. Tasting not allowed before you purchase. The penny more might see one - guts unfurled? Strawberry baskets lurking near the front Arrive from foreign lands, most - far away. Tasteless, juiceless giants, not worth a punt; Afraid one penny more won't save the day. The oranges sit dodgy in their sacks, Seek and ye shall find the one with mould. Their quality control, needs must, be lax, Though penny more'd mean many more'd be sold. David March 2014
Archived comments for A penny more? The Blissco Superdownmarket dilemma
Mikeverdi on 07-03-2014
A penny more? The Blissco Superdownmarket dilemma
David, I swear you could write about anything and still hold my interest. As a house husband (or house dyke as my daughters call me) I can concur with this in every way. The 99p box of plum's never ripens; the £1 strawberries are simply shit in a box.
Mike

Author's Reply:
One gets to know the Tesco woes as much as through the cooking and eating as well as the shopping - here speaks the incompetent on all three fronts. There is no solace in the writing - it's just a long battle.
Thanks Mike for your supporting comment.....David

Andrea on 07-03-2014
A penny more? The Blissco Superdownmarket dilemma
In my day (in prehistoric times) if yer apple didn't have a worm in it, it wasn't a proper apple. And worms in peas was absolutely obligatory!

Author's Reply:
Pea worm sounds like a horrible disease. Proper apple a fearsome customer. I know that proper Dutch apple pie must contain at least one half raisin per cubic centimetre - I believe during WW2 there was a draft British Standard which deemed it so ! Raisins were scarce. Thanks for the fleeting visit of UKA's busiest .....XXX David

ValDohren on 07-03-2014
A penny more? The Blissco Superdownmarket dilemma
Well, I'll give you a penny for this one David - it's worth more, but it's all I've got (joke). If you want the best, you have to pay more for it I guess. Great poem. Your talent shows no bounds.
Val

Author's Reply:
Val, if only I could cook I might make a decent partner. Ashamed to admit that my important duty in going shopping is to place my disabled badge by the windscreen and help lift the canvas green bags into the boot. Oh, but I do choose the wines - and reject the grapes - there's yet another story. Lest you imagine me as an outrageous alcoholic, the ration is one glass of red per day, but the outrageous would still be correct....Thank you for your extra kind indulgence - much appreciated .....David

jdm4454 on 07-03-2014
A penny more? The Blissco Superdownmarket dilemma
In the US, the fruit's pretty good, but I can remember as a kid, my grandmother looking around to make sure the coast was clear, then bouncing the cans (of all kinds of things) off the floor because they sold dented cans at half price...and my grandfather owned the store, Ha! Thanks for the great read...jim

Author's Reply:
Lovely story Jim. Reminds me of my daughter-in-law hiding bulbs of garlic in her bosom to give to us when we visit the farm shop. My son is the farmer who owns it - and in England they all tend to be miserly buggers. He always threatens to horsewhip his pullers if he catches them thieving in the fields - redolent of "9 years a slave", perhaps ! Thanks for comment.


Song of the gentle raindrop (posted on: 28-02-14)
Change of plan, the penalty of folly.

I used to be your loving friend, tapped your window, nursed your flowers, fed the seeds, and grew the lawn. Filled the birdbath. Broke the drought, said 'yes' to every praying call. Neglect of Mother Nature's needs, your carbon footprints crossed her door. Thence she vowed from puddle to pond, pit to palace, nincompoop to incomposh, her raindrops now be feared by all. First the carpets, then the legs, soak the sockets, cut supply. Fill the wellies, block the drains, Grasp the groins, make water foul and wet the beds until the tears no longer fall. Good bye home, it's 'climate-man'. your new milieu. Submerging done, my battle won, I'll stay awhile. Go pump in vain; await the sun. Rebuild, you dare on land now mine, I'll be your sipid Valentine. David March 2014
Archived comments for Song of the gentle raindrop
ValDohren on 28-02-2014
Song of the gentle raindrop
The title attracted me David - we are lucky here in the North West not to have suffered from the floods this year, but my heart goes out to those who have. Whether caused through man's violation of the environment or natural weather cycles, one can but ponder upon. In either case, it is very disturbing. Very well expressed.
Val

Author's Reply:
Hi Val. Apols for late reply - more flooding threatens - its not all over yet for us, the Environment Agency says ! Thank you for your neighbourly visit and generous mark - we who sit at the end of the list must stick together ! Whether it is the natural cycle or man's folly, we still need to avoid use of fossil fuels...David

jdm4454 on 28-02-2014
Song of the gentle raindrop
thanks---I enjoyed...jim

Author's Reply:
Hi Jim, thanks for visiting the tail enders and the generous mark.....David

Mikeverdi on 03-03-2014
Song of the gentle raindrop
Mans inability to grasp the nettle, deal with these problems on the 'stitch in time' philosophy continues to cause problems; they will soon be insurmountable. Well said David, as always you are right on the money.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Many thanks Mike for taking the extra time to visit. Your encouragement valued as ever. Although this poem was a poor effort, since then I have written something which hopefully means I have not completely lost all rhyming ability - for that was how I was feeling. Hoping to see more of your own work and personal feelings soon.....Yours aye, David


A sadness of the Sassenachs (posted on: 24-02-14)
Food, drink and play for thought.

So say our Scottish friends; that every single one who, in folly, leaves their glen to live among England's turgid toils, each makes the average intelligence of both countries a tad the better. Work it out, Sassenach, if you can, for it explains everything. Their porridge our daily start, their cloth our habit, their wit our laughter, their oil our wheels (huiles !) their golf our joy, their poetry our smiles, their whisky our nightcap. Why sadness then? What did I forget? Oh, yes. Their politicians. We need their best, yet their less-endowed thrive among us; become our leaders, three in a row. Cause for thanks? Cause for concern? David March 2014
Archived comments for A sadness of the Sassenachs
Ionicus on 24-02-2014
A sadness of the Sassenachs
Dear David, is this a plea for retaining the Union? Well, it is certainly a conundrum: I agree about whisky as a nightcap but porridge leaves me cold. I think that in the end what will settle the matter is how we regard the politicians. Three failures, did you say?

Author's Reply:
Luigi, I meant the piece as an illustration of the good and the bad. Three leadership failures, yes, two for sure, and the inept schoolboy naivety of the third will, I am sure, cost us Scotland. Sadness....David

Mikeverdi on 24-02-2014
A sadness of the Sassenachs
I see you're back Ha Ha! I will leave them to their arguments...and stock up on the Whisky just in case.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike for the peek. Your philosophy is sound - an eye for the the key issue. ...David

stormwolf on 25-02-2014
A sadness of the Sassenachs
Oh well, as one from the glens...
I have lost trust in ALL politicians and much as I feel we are marginalised and not taken seriously enough, south of the border....
Alex Salmond's plan to encourage more immigration will have lose him countless voters I feel. One of the last things we have going for us here (apart from some inner city areas) is a sense of heritage and a national pride.
If we allow ourselves to become ghettoes or no-go areas of hostile immigrants, as in many parts of England...we are finished.
Apart from that I want independence as we are a proud people, who in general do not want to ‘doff our hats’ one moment longer, to toff boys in crony , ‘let them eat cake’ self aggrandisement.

The sooner people wake up to the corruption the better and if our friends in the south cannot understand our roots (as far as national pride and independence) go way back and that we are fed up to the back teeth of crumbs from the master's table...sadly I see a division coming. I am not saying that it is going to be easy, I think we missed our chance years ago when the oil was pulling in billions that was squandered and our industry and infra-structure was left to rot.

However, recently, with the terrible flooding and the suffering of the people in the south...then that buffoon and old public schoolboy Osborn, saying that there was going to write a blank cheque for The Ukraine....while HIS countrymen face ruin...well, I rally against the ‘divide and conquer’ strategy that leaves us fighting among ourselves while the elites plunder us into serfdom.

All power to your elbow David.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison, I think your words exemplify the feelings of most of your countrymen. Myself, I am sickened by the erstwhile talk down mother hen attitude of Cameron, the sudden purported instant care. A cabinet meeting on Scottish soil - the last throw of a bunch of schoolboy scoundrels - it will cost us all dear if his provocative attitude protrudes into the final negotiations. Labour needs its Scottish MPs in Westminster - they will be politically the biggest losers if you leave. Thanks for commenting - and above all putting the real case. My English heart is with you, but I fear the financial consequences for all of us.....David

Nemo on 25-02-2014
A sadness of the Sassenachs
A thought-provoker, David. I'd be sorry if they split. We non-Scots should have a vote on the issue, too, as it affects everyone.

Gerald

Author's Reply:
I have some Scottish blood in my family, likewise a streak of Italian, but home and country is where I have roots and live. Wonder what Pommer thinks of it all ! Death throes of our last colonial controlled outposts, remains of our now mini-empire dissolving perhaps ? Thanks for comment.....David


The Government's new water storage project (posted on: 14-02-14)
Will create up to 10,000 new jobs?

Who would forever in England be, that gave the world it's salty sea, the disinfectant of the gods, that nurtured man against the odds? Now hero of the switching hour, with Europe's new giant reservoir. Let neither god nor man forget the Levels were in Somerset. And thank our leader's usual skill, by doing nowt, ensured the fill, that nature, with its winter rain would flood the ditches 'cross the plain. With dams and turbos, no more ploughs, or jobs for those who milked the cows. The Government springs no surprise, 'Unemployment set to rise'. The proof Plan A is working well ! Go ring the Cameron 'feelgood' bell ? David February 2014
Archived comments for The Government's new water storage project
Mikeverdi on 15-02-2014
The Government’s new water storage project
On top form as usual David, and as topical as ever! Well said, but I don't think we can lay it all at dear old Cameron's feet; I think that successive government neglect has buggered all of our infrastructure up.
Mike

Author's Reply:

stormwolf on 15-02-2014
The Government’s new water storage project
Bravo!
My heart goes out daily to all those suffering this blight. weather conditions aside (and VERY strange conditions they are I must say) nothing to do with weather modification that has been going on for decades now, right under our noses....or should I say right above them.? or is that another thing to be swept under the carpet when the shit hits the proverbial?
Politicians are VERY bad for the health in every way. (even looking at them in their wellies gave me a dose of the vapours)

Alison xxx

Author's Reply:

Ionicus on 15-02-2014
The Governments new water storage project
One of the expressions that Italians use quite often is: “Piove, governo ladro!“, which literally means: “It rains, the government is a thief!” and could be better translated into: “It rains, shame to the government!”.
When you think about it, it might seem a little bit silly to blame the government because it is raining: nobody is responsible of bad weather and so not even the government.
But for Italians if in everyday life there is something that is not properly working and you can’t blame anybody, then we like to think that it is the government’s fault.
It looks as if the British concur with that belief.

Author's Reply:


A lesson from the sky (posted on: 07-02-14)
After the floods - a watered down view

A world of water leaves the sky each day, the god of rainfall's gift to world of man. All cannot be absorbed or hid away when land is concrete, trees not in the plan. Our woodlands stripped to grow more rape for oil, bring open fields, defenceless from the gales, stay drainless while the brainless plan the soil. Put houses on the flood plains, make their sales. Rivers shed their banks in disarray; seek shelter in the dry with you and me, ''I will not visit long a shorter stay, be gone tomorrow beckoned by the sea''. ''No haven at the inns, we call in hope. They pump my flow, and cast my need aside, send me to their neighbours down the slope, refuse to offer floors where I can bide. By June I think my god will send a drought in punishment for failure to be kind. Teach England what it's like to be without, perhaps next time they'll have a change of mind !''. David February 2014
Archived comments for A lesson from the sky
Mikeverdi on 07-02-2014
A lesson from the sky
Hello, should you choose to respond to David's poetry he is currently unwell and can't respond. Mike Green

Author's Reply:

ValDohren on 08-02-2014
A lesson from the sky
Sorry to learn you are unwell David - my very best wishes for a speedy recovery.
Val xxx

Author's Reply:

pommer on 08-02-2014
A lesson from the sky
So Sorry to hear that you are not well David.I wish you a speedy recovery, with best wishes Peter.

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Andrea on 08-02-2014
A lesson from the sky
Hope you feel better soon, David!
x

Author's Reply:

stormwolf on 09-02-2014
A lesson from the sky
Another classic from one who sings from the same hymn-book as me.
Sending all love and good wishes to you David
Alison xxx



Author's Reply:

jdm4454 on 28-02-2014
A lesson from the sky
a current events report, very well done and pertinent. Over the holidays, my daughter and I were visiting good friends, in Reading, before we left my wife in London for home....her daughter, the 5 year old, asked...\"is England sinking like Atlantis, Gramps?\" Great read....jim

Author's Reply:
Thank you Jim for that. Suspect your granddaughter has it right - in the long term of course. By the time the ice caps have gone we shall lose a lot more more ground to Neptune.....regards, David

sweetwater on 07-04-2014
A lesson from the sky
The rape and pillaging of our land is a major concern of mine, how man can think he can do as he likes with 'our' planet and expect no adverse consequencies is beyond me. A great poem making a very good point. 🙂 Sue.

Author's Reply:
Delving deep you are Sue - all my sins are at your mercy !
Thanks for the kind judgement this time any way....David


Valentinian priorities (posted on: 07-02-14)
Which would you prefer? - afraid it's either or.

Another day, Another piece. You never know When wonders cease. It's ten o'clock, A tug of war Twixt rhyme and bed, Unfinished work Stays in the head. No sleep tonight. Do not start, My doctor said, What you can't finish There and then. We had the most almighty row. Love her dearly, Best in bed. I started there, I finished then. We slept that night. One poem that I did not write. David February 2014
Archived comments for Valentinian priorities
franciman on 07-02-2014
Valentinian priorities
Hi David,
Such an essential truth. Well done.
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:

Mikeverdi on 07-02-2014
Valentinian priorities
Effortless writing as usual David. Mike

Author's Reply:

Ionicus on 07-02-2014
Valentinian priorities
You have a wise doctor, David, and you seem to have your priorities right.

Author's Reply:

pommer on 08-02-2014
Valentinian priorities
well written as usual David.

Author's Reply:

Nomenklatura on 09-02-2014
Valentinian priorities
Either/or? Have you no romance man? Both!
A good write.
Regards
Ewan

Author's Reply:

QBall on 03-04-2014
Valentinian priorities
Short, but succinct. Good effort.

Author's Reply:


The lonely witch of Gunville. (posted on: 03-02-14)
The Flood Warden. A simple rhyming story - verging on ballad style.

As I walked past the village hall it hit me like a thunderball. There, pinned to the notice board my little poem that I'd ignored, extolling sunshine, cursing drought praying that rain would help us out. I'd thrown it in the rubbish bin as if it were a mortal sin. Somebody found it, thought it fun; it pulled the trigger, fired the gun. T'was David B, must take the blame; Flood Warden too a bloody shame. His poem caused the rains to fall, deliberately, to drown us all. A devil witch, we'll find a stake, burn him, throw him in the lake. A sacrifice, is needed now; it's him he's not a sacred cow. I get left out, a lonely perch, don't play bridge or go to church. Honour my share of doing 'good' ‒ as every non-believer should. Pay my dues, touch cap to rich, don't throw bottles in the ditch. Sweep my doorstep when it snows, salt the path, melt icy floes. and when the garden floods, I pump the water to my neighbour's dump ''Do as I do'', so he said. It swamped his only seeding bed. ''You idiot towny, go back home''. The hunt is on. I dare not roam, but hide in shame. The howling mob now keen to finish off the job. David February 2014
Archived comments for The lonely witch of Gunville.
Mikeverdi on 03-02-2014
The lonely witch of Gunville.
Best you come down to Devon and I will find you a 'safe house ' David Ha Ha!

Author's Reply:
My battlements are manned - OK pro tem. Many thanks for the safe house offer. If a person that starts fires is called an incendiarist, what do they call a guy that starts floods? I can do it anywhere - even on hillsides in Plymouth

Elfstone on 03-02-2014
The lonely witch of Gunville.
This is very good; the rhythm and rhyme work and the story - nicely topical - is only too believable. Elfstone.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Elf for kind comments. I have recovered from my self-harm spasm. I think I am not as bad as I have painted, but Meg, my wife, says I am worse. Between us I cannot win.
Cheers....David

Savvi on 04-02-2014
The lonely witch of Gunville.
My kind of poem David I do love a good yarn and you do them so well, this is not as easy as you make it look very well done.Keith

Author's Reply:
Thank you kindly - and Keith you are right, it does not come easy - being the wrong side of 70, my problem is always to avoid sliding into the old fashioned balladic rhetoric - the boy stood on the burning deck stuff....Yours, David

barenib on 04-02-2014
The lonely witch of Gunville.
I hope that you don't live near the Somerset levels, you might get some of the blame! Good stuff, John.

Author's Reply:
Good point John. I have decided that I may have a gift for starting floods - but as you suggest, that means earning a living in Africa, not the Somerset levels. What is a flood maker called? Cheers....David

Nemo on 04-02-2014
The lonely witch of Gunville.
Artfully composed with ice flashes of wit. You'll go far, David. Best ones, Gerald.

Author's Reply:
Far away from Gunville - you bet ! My thanks for generous words in a tight situation - but it is just a fun fantasy, as you suggest. With respect....David

pommer on 04-02-2014
The lonely witch of Gunville.
Hi David, a rhyme after my own heart.We have these problems too. If you follow Mike's advice, and come to Devon, don't come to Feniton.You might be called a Townie.Ha Ha Peter.

Author's Reply:
Hi Peter, yes, I am inundated with people telling me where I should not go for fear of assassination - or worse. If an incendiarist is called a fire-lighter, am I a flood-lighter? Groan. Me - a farmer's son and been a Westcountry man for the past 60 years - a 'Townie' - shock-horror. Thanks for reading....David

pdemitchell on 05-02-2014
The lonely witch of Gunville.
Great bouncy rhyming trampolines of fun. Made me smile - a rare feat indeed!

Author's Reply:
Thanks PDE, the nicest compliment I have had this year - a smile. I would love to target a laugh next time, but there are sadder things to report first. Not an assassination, but the flood 'whoreallydunnit' story. Much appreciated your comment....David


Selling you and your woes - Part 2 (posted on: 31-01-14)
Are you on the list? What frightening medical treatment lies behind the latest Government threat the dreaded word 'Anonymisation? Invisible extermination, perhaps? A short delicate poem that may assist your feeling of closure.

Anonymise, anonymise, The Government Daleks bring their touch. ''You will be anonymised''. but who is left to fill their list if all have bolted from the hutch? We rabbits, yes, we have a vote. Say 'No' to Docs about your docs ‒ or 'Yes', if you don't care that much. The hackers then will have a punt a-prowling for your secret life. How often do you beat your wife? Just watch who visits Mr Hunt. Would you hand your own back doorkeys to those who live by telling porkies? I think that I would rather be a person, not anony-me. David .January 2014
Archived comments for Selling you and your woes - Part 2
Mikeverdi on 31-01-2014
Selling you and your woes - Part 2
Superb David, a brilliant follow up to the last one. Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike for finding me and for a nice lift-off. This chap Bozzz seems to be going through a spate of 'end of list' situations. Clearly he has offended the gods. Cheers...David

Elfstone on 31-01-2014
Selling you and your woes - Part 2
That's is a very scary thought .. and with the Edward Snowdon revelations, may be closer than any of us realised! Elfstone.

Author's Reply:
You are right. The question is whether GCHQ has access to our medical records too - these include mental illness and they are entitled to suggest that terrorists are likely to have such deviations. Thanks for comment ...David

pommer on 01-02-2014
Selling you and your woes - Part 2
Great David, once again after my own heart.I still remember being number 9493,many years ago. Peter.

Author's Reply:

stormwolf on 01-02-2014
Selling you and your woes - Part 2
You have got your finger firmly on the pulse of what ails the system and inherent dangers of submitting lamely to what they are trying to introduce.

A pox on 'em all.
Alison x


Author's Reply:


A new Darwinian poetic concept? (posted on: 27-01-14)
Boggerel. A light-hearted bottom-up approach to a difficult problem. The NHS plans to sell off our medical histories to drug and insurance companies, known to be among the least trusted of commercial groups. Doctors promise on oath to preserve secrecy and so do the NHS but ...

The Secretary of State owns the documents and says disclosure will help save lives. Do you believe him? Or is this another ruse to find a few more billions to close the UK deficit? Selling off not just the family silver, but this time, selling the family itself ! Where will it stop? The Government says you are for sale. To close deficits, your bowel state can help reduce the nation's bail, lower the banker's lending rate. Who wants to know when I can't go? How much is constipation worth? 'Your secrets sold to save a life', they're saying to everyman at birth. You took a pill, 'Laxigo'! twice! Afraid that's it, your fate now sealed. Insurance costs up in a trice; best keep your loo life well concealed ! They claim ''Unless we sell your mores the NHS will never thrive''. You let them go, you tell them all, you're poor for life, but they survive. You could give surgeries a miss, take prunes with everything ‒ pure bliss. Either that, or never say die, just sit and have another try. David. January 2014
Archived comments for A new Darwinian poetic concept?
stormwolf on 27-01-2014
A new Darwinian poetic concept?
Ah! Don't get me started David.
I see us going the way of our American cousins as 'Obamacare' was written by and for the big insurance companies.
BTW did you read in the rags the other day that they are going to limit treatment for cancer patients over the age of 75? Yes, that's right. ggggrrrrr

They work all their lives and pay dearly to their country and then, when they should be supported and cared for, they are effectively on the scrap-heap. It's bloody disgusting but it's eugenics by any other name.
They are raping us in every way.

Brilliant and witty poem in your usual clever style.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Hi Earlybird, trust that means you are feeling a tad better today. 75 and over - well my escape velocity won't be high enough to get back to under that age in a hurry - but you upper middle-aged youngsters I feel for. The latest NHS leaflet telling the public what is happening on the data release is excruciatingly weasel-worded and vague - no mention of insurance and drug companies - just approved research groups investigating health matters - the sods. I have heard that because of the selling bit many doctors have decided not give their own medical histories as a protest. Research is one thing, commercial trading of personal data is another - the latter permeates our society, e.g., hacking ! Thanks for crisp comments as ever...David

Mikeverdi on 27-01-2014
A new Darwinian poetic concept?
I remember hearing somewhere That when Dictators take over the cry goes up 'Kill all the Poets'..... This is why, You could be the conscience of the nation David; superb my friend. Mike

Author's Reply:
That's a good quote, Mike, Yes, it is kill all the poets and usually many of the entertainment stars too.
Sadly the powers that be are very quick to call awkward cusses (like me) - terrorists ! Mockery is a powerful weapon. My thanks for comment and, for somewhat undeservedly, putting me in that elevated slot of conscience....David

pommer on 27-01-2014
A new Darwinian poetic concept?
David, another one after my own heart.There doesn't seem to be a day without some story about he NHS,which was once the envy of the world.I am thinking of getting my daughter's copy of Dr.Nicholas Culpeper's "The English Physician". That way I won't have to wait for an appointment, and I might be able to cheat ageism through do it yourself care.A very clever poem. Peter. Be lucky.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Peter for finding me - we all have to sit at the bottom of the list sometimes, but when one is found, the delight is unbounded ! Er, not quite sure whether my science colleagues would approve of the Culpepper concept - they would describe it as a strategy of last resort, but who am I to judge - a good read, they say. Afraid the politics of the NHS are due for an even rougher ride during the pre-election scramble - I fear Mr Hunt's comments have destroyed even more morale than those of his predecessor. My appreciation of your comment here...David

Ionicus on 28-01-2014
A new Darwinian poetic concept?
I don't know why you sound so surprised that our medical histories are up for auction. Every facet of our lives is already on the market; buy anything, or make an enquiry on line and you are bombarded with advertising for evermore. The same can be said if you make a donation to a charity: begging letters by another ten charities will follow. Fly RyanAir, Jet2, British Airways...need I say more? That, I'm afraid, is how the cooky crumbles.
Oh, nice rant by the way.

Author's Reply:
Come come, Luigi - surprised you have no feelings about the difference. Your heart, your lungs, your intestines, your testicles are the new dirt. All else is your money. As a person whose opinions the NHS pays for and pan-European medical organisations use, I see how the data is now handled in research - and now look at the present UK proposal for security, I am very concerned. The data will even give your Hospital Number - and that appears on every letter you get from them ! Oh, and thanks for your rant about mine ! Greetings ...David

ValDohren on 29-01-2014
A new Darwinian poetic concept?
The sooner this planet self-destructs the better IMHO - it's a hell-hole and its getting worse !!
Val

Author's Reply:
I get depressed about it too sometimes, but in science one has to believe that as long as problems are being solved, there has to be hope that something will turn up to change things for the better.
I would call it the inverse of Sod's Law which states "If something bad can possibly happen, it will.
Remove "it will" and substitute "it may not" and the Law then becomes a valid scientific statement.
All right then, bugger the science - we must just keep writing till it happens. Cheers Val.


The (posted on: 24-01-14)
Helpings maketh man Obesity −> Holby City? I am descended from the cavemen, the hunter-gatherer male whose mantra was ''I provide, you cook''. The boiled egg thing was mans feeble 20th century concession to the rising tide of feminism.

A double whammy of nonsense A gene defect the doctors say, but I'd not put it quite that way. Sure, nurture must have played a part For man to grow a race apart. I'm fed and watered all day long to five star standard, must be said; but gremlins in me sing a song, put vanities inside my head. So when I get my helping, large A voice says 'you know what you're at' Tell her that's clearly now in charge, ''I can't quite manage all of that''. It's whisked away and cut in half; a miserly mound sits on my plate. 'How dare I shun the fatted calf', but said in terms less delicate. I eat and seek a second go, dodge bullets of ''I told you so''. Why should any caring wife live with a bloke that loves his food, yet cannot eat to save his life, a man-sized meal, with gratitude? Two problems sitting side by side make rare behaviours coincide. For 'Boiled egg man' is dying fast, they found me deep in Wessex wilds; of species, say I am the last, with cooking skill as if a child's. My wife, comes home, looks tired and down says ''Might you do the lunch today''? She runs the Food Bank in the town and knows exactly what I'll say. ''The toast and butter's on the go and yes, there is no need to beg. The water simmers, gas set low, How many minutes for your egg?'' Man not taught to cook and sew? Nor eat a proper meal at that? A throwback from another age. Generations come and go; Methuselah is on this page ! David January 2014
Archived comments for The
Mikeverdi on 24-01-2014
The
Oh dear David, I fear you may have cooked your goose with this one...Meg will hang you out to dry Ha Ha! A tale told with you're usual brilliance and sense of humor.
Mike

Author's Reply:

Nemo on 24-01-2014
The
An amusing read, David. Reminds of my father, b. 1901. He couldn't even boil an egg when my mother was in hospital (before we the children arrived) and went into lodgings to get his meals. Regards, Gerald.

Author's Reply:
As the last of the species I can only say that your Dad had the right idea - it is now residing permanently in my memory - I might needed it next time my wife takes a short holiday on her own. Please thank him next time you think of him! Thanks Gerald, yours, David.

stormwolf on 25-01-2014
The
OMG
You do make me laugh David!
I started to smile before I even read by the 'horror' genre and the "double whammy of nonsense" before the poem.

All I can say is that whatever you and your dear lady wife are doing...works exceedingly well. So much so in fact, that I am tempted to write and offer you a buisiness deal. For you both to be doing what you do, at your stage in this game...just amazes and inspires me totally.

Another 10 coming your way for no other reason than you deserve it.
Now, away and take her out for a night to the Indian restaurant and fill yer boots!

Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
Yes, we live between laughter and a touch of anger - ten minutes and both are gone. The piece is a poetic version of a regular column that I write in the Times - that is to say, the Tarrant Times - our Dorset Valley magazine. Deep in Hardy country a sitcom seems to be the way of things. I will send you an example previous one page article to compare, but not this latest as it is not yet published.
Your illustrious and kind comment is inspiring in itself - you have that ability - a rare touch - our thanks. I assure you that the valued ten will be shared. Being in the middle of nowhere, Indians are rare, but our local Italian is great. Thank you Alison...Love, David.

ValDohren on 25-01-2014
The
Well, my late hubbie couldn't cook either, but he was a bugger to feed with his faddyness - at least I only have to cook for myself these days. Brilliant poem, very clever and witty. You manage to write poems on the craziest of subjects !!
Val 🙂

Author's Reply:
On dear yes, I suppose poems about crazy subjects do need a crazy bloke to write them - it's logical and in many senses true. We think of ourselves as 'lateral thinkers' that look round corners at life in an off beat sort of way. Many photographers are like that and do it because it's fun. Thank you Val for telling of your own faddy feeder - and above all your kindness and generosity in feeding the mind of what Meg would certainly call 'another one' - bless and thanks too for the ten !...XXX..David

Ionicus on 26-01-2014
The
If you fail at boiling an egg, there is always beans on toast.
No problem!

Author's Reply:
Brilliant, Luigi. Ask yourself why I did not think of that. Boiled egg man is as devious ask they come !
Thank for visit...David

Andrea on 26-01-2014
The
Well, my dear, departed pater, a rear-gunner in the RAF during WW11 was a brilliant cook. Not only that, he knitted too, lovely patchwork blankets. Apparently the lads knitted between sorties, to pass the time. My mater died when I was 4 and my dad looked after the bro and me single-handedly for 2 years (before he married again) cooking and knitting for all he was worth...

Author's Reply:
Apols for delay. Well, that's what I call bringed up right and proppa. Clearly your Dad was less devious that Boiled egg man - task avoidance was the mantra...... Yrs...David


Know thine enemy, it is thyself (posted on: 20-01-14)
The mad men of science seek water while their brethren are drowning. With apologies to WS for the borrow of sorrow. This prose poem is dedicated to good friend Alison.

Expecting a flood; like waiting for a baby to be born. When will the waters flow? Some bring joy, others, sorrow. Yet when flood waters run they come not single drops, but in gallon-billions. Neptune stands, with Trident, intent on defending his world, We poison his kingdom with plastic bags, oil, chemicals, nuclear waste, our own excreta, then say we love him. His waves claim land. His raindrops descend as paratroopers behind our defences to have us drown in our own pollution. . The warm puddles whence came amoeba, hence ourselves, now swept to sea to sate his wrath. While man, blind in deceitful folly, seeks water on Mars. David Boswell. Tarrant Gunville. January 2014
Archived comments for Know thine enemy, it is thyself
stormwolf on 20-01-2014
Know thine enemy, it is thyself
Hi David
Incredible writing. 😉
The poem lays out in stark form, the repercusions of not being custodians of the Earth and of her waters. When we divorce ourselves from nature, pilliage, desecrate and disrespect the natural law, then we should not be surprised when nature fights back.

The first stanza speaks of excited expectation...but as the universal law decrees, we cannot expect any nice 'baby' to be born. Rather the goddess Kali. who will wreak havoc and destruction to bring us all into line.

The second to last stanza, demonstrates our arrogance, gone wrong and our helplessness in the face of the chastening....
Finally finishing off with our total stupidity and being unable to 'see the wood for the trees'.

The many meaphors woven and the inclusion of the ancient god of the oceans, bring a depth to the poem that makes one want to read it many times.

I am very humbled by your dedication and in awe that you have lived 90 years, seen so much and can write such insighful poetry.

I know you have suffered in the floods and I hope that you are getting all the help you need.

Alison xxx

Into favs of course 😉

Author's Reply:
Alison, the poem is dedicated to you because I realise from your writings how much you care about our world - as indeed do I. Sing from same song sheet, paddle same canoe, put it how you will, collectively we have a job to do. How else can I thank you for your breadth of understanding and support. To me, deep appreciation is more than thanks and please accept that too. XXX David

Mikeverdi on 20-01-2014
Know thine enemy, it is thyself
Not bad for an old fart! You never disappoint the reader David, you have the ability to turn anything into poetry with seemingly 'the greatest of ease'.... and only 90' years old; so much more to come Ha Ha!

Author's Reply:
As ever Mike, your spelling will miss out on the modern world - 'fart' is now spelt onomatopoeically - 'phart' to avoid using the dreaded f letter. They say of computers, rubbish in means rubbish out. In this case the inputs are mainly what I read in the papers and see on telly - I am not to blame for my outputs - it's the keyboard what does it. Tell you another?, I could....Bless and thanks for kindness....David

pommer on 20-01-2014
Know thine enemy, it is thyself
Hi David, I must agree with Mike and Alison.What a great write.Well there is many a good tune plaid on an old fiddle.Forgive me for the last bit I simply could not resist.From one old "fart" to another.Peter.

Author's Reply:
Well yes, Peter, you are on the nail because fiddling with nature aptly describes man's interface with our planet. It is not yet burning like Rome, but certainly getting hotter ! Thank you for the generous mark....David.
P.S. I guess we both have to find a way to create fart-resistant poetry. Perhaps I should sue Mike for age discrimination?

ValDohren on 20-01-2014
Know thine enemy, it is thyself
There's a lot of farting going on around here David - glad I'm not in the vicinity ! But, the poem is excellent as always. Our pollution knows no bounds, although there's not much we can do about our own excreta - part of being human I'm afraid. What we need is environmentally-friendly loo paper. Seriously though, a well inspired write. As for Mars, maybe mankind has been there already and now we see the barren consequences.
Val xx 🙂


Author's Reply:
Thanks Val for interesting comment - I assure you I use only the best Boots deodorant.
I believe that in the UK most of our own excreta is processed and re-used as fertiliser or a source of methane, but some seaside towns go the cheapest way and abroad they do the same. Agree, Mars is futopia.....David

Ionicus on 20-01-2014
Know thine enemy, it is thyself
As always straight to the point, David. It is pure madness that, having already brought our planet to near extinction, we should seek another one to pollute.

Author's Reply:
Yes Luigi, as you say - pure madness it is, and not just the concept; it is also a waste of money that might be better used to help reduce pollution on our very own oblate spheroid.
Thanks for generous mark. ...David

Pronto on 21-01-2014
Know thine enemy, it is thyself
Hi David You are right to point out the follies of mankind but the buggers won't listen. We no longer inhabit this planet we infest it. Mother nature may be slow but she is always sure.
Excellent penmanship as usual.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Pronto - I think many realise and even listen, but say they are powerless - sadly yes. Those buggers that have the power won't listen - trained to avoid the difficult.
You are right, Nature is sure, but not easily predictable ! Chance is her right hand man. ...David

Nemo on 21-01-2014
Know thine enemy, it is thyself
I hear you're taking your soap-box to Hyde Park Corner this weekend. I'll be there shouting my support. Nice prose-poem, David. Cheers, Gerald.

Author's Reply:
Delighted to see you at Marble Arch. Please bring supportive weapons - marbles, tasers etc.
Good on yer mate....David

Savvi on 22-01-2014
Know thine enemy, it is thyself
Thank for the lessons in life and poetry David a well deserved nib excellent stuff. Keith

Author's Reply:


Warfarin. Waiting for Draculae (posted on: 13-01-14)
Warfarin and a Pulmonary Embolism. After 9 months treatment they discovered that the drug had been prescribed in error. There was no clot nearly half a year of life wasted sitting waiting for Draculae in the surgery trying to write poetry before my blood is sucked dry for the week !

My tale is growing longer every day, Am I a rat? And what the packets say, In milligrams the daily poison's set, By nurses. Just in case they might forget, My precious blood is tasted once a week. I hope the flavour's nearing what they seek! Each Friday comes their note it gives the score. Of Warfarin - they keep prescribing more! First I'm pumping sticky toffee goo, Now blood is turned to water What's to do? Just hope the poison dose has reached its peak, And pray my ancient veins not start to leak. No longer can I sit and think and write, But stand each hour to walk and fight the fight. To move is life. It's clearly understood, Another clot could finish me for good. To fail the course is seeking to depart, If not by absent breath, then bleeding heart! David 2010
Archived comments for Warfarin. Waiting for Draculae
Mikeverdi on 13-01-2014
Warfarin. Waiting for Draculae
Oh David, the things we have to endure; life has no dignity when these things arrive unbidden, uncaring. What was it Spock said in Star Treck 'Its life Jim... but not as we know it.'
Mike

Author's Reply:
Hi Mike, fortunately it did not take much persuasion to make my pulmonary specialist countermand the diagnosis of the heart department - they are in a constant war. At least the "for the rest of your life' burden was avoided. I like your quote from Spock...Thanks early bird...David

barenib on 13-01-2014
Warfarin. Waiting for Draculae
And all that for nothing! It's certainly enough to make you ill! Well done, John.

Author's Reply:
Thanks for the visit, John - I guess surviving the experience was good for character development at least. Not much better than a prison sentence anyway....Greetings, David

Buschell on 13-01-2014
Warfarin. Waiting for Draculae
Count Haemo does make some big ol' mistakes...bad blood. Bad form. Good poetry. Sorry for your thinned nine months, long enough to give birth to a double clotted baby thrombosis. Darren.

Author's Reply:
Trouble is that the Count only employs gorgeous young ladies in his department at the hospital - each visit was a temptation - they knew all the clever tricks of the blood sucker's trade - seductive smiles, a touch of leg showing - the path to Hell...Thanks for commenting, Darren.
Greetings...David

Savvi on 13-01-2014
Warfarin. Waiting for Draculae
Hi Bozzz great verse and topic, story well told. Top draw

one tiny nit S2 L6 should 'not' be don't ?

Author's Reply:
Thanks Keith for your helpful and interesting comment and mark. In the line you mention, in my understanding the 'not ' is correct - it is just that I used the brevity of Shakespearean poetic English. Your suggestion of 'don't is also correct in modern English, but I try to avoid the apostrophe's where I can do without creating an extra beat. For example, today you would say "Don't let the buggers get you down", whereas in those days it could be "Let not the buggers get you down". Or "I pray you not let the buggers get you down". But seriously, please do let me know if I am mistaken.....David

Nemo on 14-01-2014
Warfarin. Waiting for Draculae
Sounds grim. You turned the experience to your advantage, David, it would seem. Cheers, Gerald.

Author's Reply:
40 journeys to surgery and back (15 miles each) is 600 miles. At 50p per mile, £300. Only one poem actually about warfarin - cheap at the price ? Cheers Gerald and thanks for reading. ..David

ValDohren on 14-01-2014
Warfarin. Waiting for Draculae
Can we trust the medics, that is the question. Very good write David.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Val for commenting. Today I fear we have little option but to accept diagnoses - the pain of getting a truly independent second opinion is high. Subdued anger at the surgery, irritation at Trust level. stress at home - one could go on !.....cheers, David.

pommer on 14-01-2014
Warfarin. Waiting for Draculae
Another great poem with a topical issue. I hope that someone has apologised to you for the error.I am almost sure they will after the Minister's statement that doctors and nurses should apologise after having made a mistake,if only to avoid a compensation claim.What a world we live in.I hope that you are as well as can be expected David.Well penned.Be lucky, Peter.

Author's Reply:
Well Peter, yes there was a mistake, but in the circumstances I am forced to consider that it was made, in their view, to be in my best interests - a minimise risk policy. By all accounts it was the misinterpretation of a gamma scan - not the most accurate of available methods anyway. If one is into technology, one is always inclined to be sympathetic to fellow body engineers (alias doctors). My own expertise was in implanted cardiac pacemakers. Thank you for your kindness...David

Savvi on 15-01-2014
Warfarin. Waiting for Draculae
Hey Bozzz I get it now, thanks for clearing it up "not" that is

Author's Reply:
Thanks Keith. All the best, David

Pronto on 20-01-2014
Warfarin. Waiting for Draculae
This strikes a chord with me David. They treated my late father-in-law for angina for six months before discovering it was not angina but lung cancer! OK so it was in the eighties but even so...
Great story well told mate.

Author's Reply:


The Indian (that Beverly Nichols could not find or face) (posted on: 10-01-14)
Written during WW2 while on active service on the India/Burma border, 1945. Britain still ruled the whole of India - now split into India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. The poverty shocked me. For me, Beverly Nichols was a typical Britprig, Empire snob author.

Down beyond the road where the beggars go, Crawling in the garbage and smell, Lives a small tired animal God doesn't know, In the barracks of squalor and hell. Far in the Deccan, a continent's boil, Is a paddy in a mud flat land, A bent black biped scratches at the soil, And scatters the seed with his hand. He lives on rice with lice in his cotton, Sleeps on the cobbles and stones. He dies in the street, his body goes rotten. The stray dogs fight for his bones. Free like the peasant, the Zamindar's minion, To live among the deserts and diseases, Freeman of the Empire, the Sapphire Dominion, Is permitted to die where he pleases.
Archived comments for The Indian (that Beverly Nichols could not find or face)
Elfstone on 10-01-2014
The Indian (that Beverly Nichols could not find or face)
Powerful stuff Bozzz; a poem which combines very good technique with biting comment. I wonder if things have changed much over there? Elfstone

Author's Reply:
Thanks for the comment Elf. I think things have greatly improved for the middle classes but the agricultural workers are still grindingly poor, with little voice. Politics is a complete mess. Women in the more remote villages are still virtual slaves. greetings, ..David

pommer on 10-01-2014
The Indian (that Beverly Nichols could not find or face)
Very well written.I wonder, like Elfstone ,if things have changed much there. Peter.

Author's Reply:
Hi Peter. Apologies for delay in response - we are flooded. I mentioned to Elf, I think the the changes seem a mixed bunch. As with most democracies, over the years, the rich have become relatively richer and the poor, relatively poorer - but that does not mean that there has been no overall improvement for most. One sees that geographically, economically and militarily, the problems of the three resulting states that were originally India, are so very different. Just my personal view..... David

stormwolf on 10-01-2014
The Indian (that Beverly Nichols could not find or face)
Excellent David. The content, the rhyming and metre.
My dad was in the navy and he said that the first thing that almost overwhelmed him coming on land at Bombay, was the multitude of beggars.
He also said it was one of the most fascinating places he ever saw and would have liked to have taken my mum there one day.
It's only with maturity and further reading I realised that so much of what we were taught about the British Empire was whitewashed in our favour. The Indian civilisation can put ours to shame many times.

Alison x


Author's Reply:
Thank you Alison very much for comment and mark and whatever. I spent most of my time in Bombay semiconscious in a coma through eating contaminated oranges on my strange three-day rail trip from Calcutta (then called "The arsehole of the world" - from one side of India to the other. Family say 'well that accounts for everything' ! The main impact on arrival in India is the olfactory one and I am told that it is still so. As you suggest, the innate honesty of the ordinary folk is remarkable, but as with Pakistan, though to a lesser degree, it seems that bribery has become a factor in the civil service. ... In friendship...David

Ionicus on 11-01-2014
The Indian (that Beverly Nichols could not find or face)
Quite a biting satire, David. Well constructed.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Luigi - as you may gather, as a young bade of 22 I was bitterly angry at my country's colonial antics in those parts. Yours aye, David

Mikeverdi on 12-01-2014
The Indian (that Beverly Nichols could not find or face)
It seems, even as a young man, you were never afraid to hold up the truth for all to see; still doing it today. My first father-in-law was with Shell Petrol in Bombay (as it was) in the late 50'/60' he said if you didn't close you're eyes you couldn't get your job done. He was in Suez before that so was well used to beggars. You're eyes you can close, but what about you're mind. I would hate it there.
Great writing David
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thank you Mike. yes the mind gets so troubled in some places that you have to make a big effort to put the issues aside and do your work. For those who have to stay too long, they become brainwashed and accept their status as the norm when they return to UK. Sad - and worse. ...Yours aye....David


The Poacher's Learning Curve (posted on: 06-01-14)
Autumn at Idleigh, my mother's farm near Meopham, mid-Kent. Mush was her right hand man, a true son of the soil and an expert poacher in his time. As a lad I worshipped him. Memorial story in blank verse, strict heptameter, no rhyme required. Bozzz

I don old Mush's jacket, with its pockets deep and wide, Pull on his trusty boots that know the woods near Idleigh well, His muddied cap that hides the face from targets in the trees. The teenage poacher out to learn his trade, alone at dusk. The narrow hedgebound lanes nearby are first to fear my steps. The old cock pheasants can't fly high, I shoot while walking by. The blackbirds cluck alarm, but far too late to save their friend, An ancient bird that's full of lead from past escapes ‒ now mine! The Ridley wood on chalk is next, the beech trees tall and spaced. Atop them, pigeon parking lots. The autumn flocks are large And settle on the harvest fields to feed on fallen ears. They gather, not to fly abroad, just habit from their past. The sun is low, its final light now percolates the leaves, An early owl hoots overture to darkness, lurking near. Twilight is the waking time for those that fear the day, When beaks and teeth and claws await unwary life at play. I stand beside an older ash ‒ stock still the cubs run free. Unused to human scents, they sniff around old Mush's boots, Then pass me for the next tree roots, still sniffing all the way. The Vulpine lesson not yet learned, ''Look up at every tree''. The wily pheasants spot the troupe and clatter up to roost. They go for lower branches and I note the perch of each. A poacher has no conscience; he simplifies the deal, The airgun aimed, the trigger pulled ‒ and hopefully a meal. I miss - and spark a treequake. A noise to wake the dead. The take-off storm brings gusts of wind from wing and leaf and branch, An airborne flock now scattered wide to find a safer place, Then sudden quiet as nature's cycle starts to run again. Twenty minutes wait then 'swoosh', the scouter circles by, A solitary pigeon come to see if it is safe? My lowered face is bootwards, to avoid its probing eye. It flies away to chat with mates, some minutes more to wait. Rewarded patience; here they come, to park in safety now. No man with gun to frighten them, just trees and trunks below. I aim at one and miss again clipped a branch instead. They've gone for good; my chances too. I'm better off in bed.
Archived comments for The Poacher's Learning Curve
Mikeverdi on 06-01-2014
The Poachers Learning Curve
Love the story David, I'm not sure about the construction; as you know I'm not very knowledgeable about all the styles. I will do some reading.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike. Heptameter is not an ideal vehicle for poetry, but I thought I would have a try - it was 'experimental'. Most past blank verse poets have preferred pentameter. We are now dry, but the stench of soaked carpets is nauseous. Cheers...David

stormwolf on 06-01-2014
The Poachers Learning Curve
Just a treat to read.
I hate shooting birds or animals although I am a country girl at heart and would rather they were shot, living free as nature intended rather than crammed piteously in factory farming conditions. I saw it all in my inner vision.

Twilight is the waking time for those that fear the day,
When beaks and teeth and claws await unwary life at play.

Indeed!

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Alison, thank you - a treat to receive your comment and what a lovely surprise. I hope that it bodes well in all respects for your goodself. Incidentally, in the phrase you selected, the "teeth" referred to were intended to include those of humankind biting into the cooked fowl and pigs which had been crammed in conditions to which you referred - unlikely that either were in 'play' mode when seized !
Warmest good wishes...David

Kipper on 07-01-2014
The Poachers Learning Curve
Hi David
I have a little 'country' blood in me too; farming ancestors a generation or two back, so I enjoyed your tale of the poacher cum (nearly) gamekeeper. Very atmospheric of the fading light of the evening in the woods.
I guess I'm old fashioned or not very sophisticated poetically, but though it read easily with a nice rhythm I did feel a slight unease when the sense of completion that a rhyming end might bring, was missing, despite your reference at the start.
Am I a minority off one? Probably and maybe not for the first time.
Despite that I enjoyed the read very much, rhyme or no rhyme.
Best wishes, Michael


Author's Reply:
Hi Michael, thanks for your in depth comment - appreciated. I will look again and might well make changes near the end. Though, if you look again you will see that I did rhyme the ending couplet and almost rhymed the lines of the penultimate one. Heptameter is a very difficult format to write for, which is why the poem was classed as experimental and why most choose pentameter for blank verse ! Cheers...David

Ionicus on 07-01-2014
The Poachers Learning Curve
It's going to be a long learning curve by the sound of it or, more likely, you are not cut out to be a poacher.
A good and flowing read, David. I have no problem with blank verse.
Well done.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Luigi - you are right of course about my abilities - if any - being elsewhere. But truth will out; I am perhaps the last surviving specimen of a fading species called "Boiled egg man". They cannot cook, but are capable of handling all types of egg in emergency - including, of course, poached eggs. It is a generation thing, my wife says - thank goodness she loves cooking. My best, David.

pommer on 07-01-2014
The Poachers Learning Curve
Hi Dave, just got round to reading your poem.I like the way you have managed the heptameter. Great work David, Congratulation. Peter.

Author's Reply:
Hi Peter. Thank you for your mark and for being the first to recognise that heptameter is not an easy format to write in. It was an experiment that I am not minded to repeat - an easy life is preferred !
Trust that the bad weather in the West has not harmed you. In Dorset ee have been flooded - but only a centimetre or so - enough to wreck the carpets. Warm wishes, David

Kipper on 08-01-2014
The Poachers Learning Curve
Hi David
Thanks for your reply to my reply; I hope you don\'t mind me having a second bite at this particular cherry.
Heptameter is not a word with which I am familiar, and none of my dictionaries offered any enlightenment. However it seems from your comments (and the poem itself) to be a form of poetry with a regular beat, some uniformity in length of line, and that rhyming is to be avoided. Is that about right?
Although, as I indicated, this is not my favourite format, it does intrigue me and I can see why you say it is a difficult style to master.
I will investigate further,
Thanks again, Michael
PS Despite the aforesaid it is still worth the Nib!

Author's Reply:
Thanks Michael for coming back. Just as pentameter means 5 beats per line, so heptameter means 7 beats per line. Hexameter, much used by the ancient Greeks, means 6 beats per line. Most poets that use blank verse, go for pentameter - easier. For blank verse, rhyming is optional, so your suggestion about livening up the latter verses was a valid one. Greetings....David


A journey from Heaven (posted on: 03-01-14)
A Farragic fantasy, the final UK solution?

I am Bulgarian, born and bred, a phantom gypsy thief, now dead. Released from Heaven, on my way to freedom at the break of day. My luck it was to emigrate From Hell to seek a better state, An easy touch on benefits, A life of crime, live on my wits. Heaven's national debt has risen high, incumbents dare not question why. The Saints are rolling in the dosh, as are the Nouveau Tory-posh. But woe betide the ordinary man, condemned by God's austerity plan. There's many jumping off the edge, despite the strict no-suicide pledge ! Going down to earth to chance my fate, where cops take bribes at half the rate that guys up here demand on nod. They say the lot goes straight to God. I'm opting now for England's shores; The town known best for pimps and whores. It looks as though we're nearly there, the smell of atmospheric air. At last the vacuum is no more. Not used a parachute before. I'm landing now but whereabouts, A country fit for thieving louts? A big white flag says ''Welcome to our homely caravan for you''. A night's free board, then on his way, Our chambers wait their foreign prey. Dead already, that's a shame. God is playing his 'conscience' game. David Boxing Day. 2013
Archived comments for A journey from Heaven
Savvi on 03-01-2014
A journey from Heaven
You have a great talent for penning this type of topical tale and it is very hard to do, nice job. Keith

Author's Reply:
Thank you Keith for comment - and for your generous mark. I feel that sometimes you do have to have cruel streak available - but mostly make fun of the preposterous. Greetings anyway...David

pommer on 03-01-2014
A journey from Heaven
A great job hit the nail on the head. Pommer.

Author's Reply:
Many thanks, Peter, for kind comment. Draped in mischief, but my blow was rather a blunt one, I fear.
By the way, you and I must be among the oldest active in UKA, not that I feel it so. I was 90 in June last year, but perhaps you can beat that - Luigi (Ionicus) tried and failed ! ... Yours aye, David

Mikeverdi on 03-01-2014
A journey from Heaven
Oh dear David, I think that sword you spoke of may be finding it's way to you...depending who gets in Ha Ha! Never a dull moment with you're work.
Mike

Author's Reply:
As ever, you manage to turn the tables. I promise to be good until the next time I am naughty again - well, until next week anyway. Thanks Mike.
Oh sorry, did I knight you ! I must have got you mixed up with the Green guy that owns a million big department stores - apologies. No offence intended.

Pronto on 05-01-2014
A journey from Heaven
David I did so enjoy this tongue-in-cheek satirical piece. You really do know how to 'tickle the toffs.' As has been said before it's so difficult to do this kind of poem so well done sirrah!

Author's Reply:


Quadrille Cynique for New Year's Eve (posted on: 30-12-13)
The joy on New Year's eve is, for me. a sad reflection, a willingness to accept failure by promising to do better. Annual escapology for mankind. Recognising that, let us enjoy it anyway - not much else to crow about ! Best wishes to everyone, Bozzz

Contrite in cataclysmic tear, That robs the eye of sight, I sit to greet the coming year, With cynical delight. What brings it that the last did not? New vision for mankind? May chronic grievance be forgot, To lull the stricken mind? The New Year, born in alcohol, Should live in bitter scorn, For all the good that man can do Was done on Xmas morn. Time's an arbitrary thing, That starting, never ends. Each year must come that sinners sing, Their vow to make amends. David December 1946
Archived comments for Quadrille Cynique for New Year's Eve
Corin on 30-12-2013
Quadrille Cynique for New Years Eve
Well I like New Year and make the same resolutions every year! I think we need a good break and celebration at this time of year to get through the long hard slog until Spring comes:-) I did some research recently for a lesson about Christmas. The Christmas festival started as a Christianisation of Yule which was held on the Winter Solstice, so it should be December 21, but I think the Julian calendar messed up the date of the Solstice. There was a Roman Festival, Natalis Invicti, celebrated on 25 December, in the fourth century Pope Julius I (337-352), Julius assigns 25 December as the date of Christ’s Birth, thus solving two problems, when to celebrate the borth of Christ and replacing a popular pagan festival. The Romans also celebrated the Feast of Saturnalia. This was a twelfth night feast celebrated 12 days after the Solstice in honour of the god Saturn (who so it would be held on the night of December 31/1st January. It was characterised by role reversals and behavioral license. Slaves were treated to a banquet of the kind usually enjoyed by their masters and the masters actually served the food. Saturnalian license also permitted slaves to enjoy a pretense of disrespect for their masters, and exempted them from punishment. It was a time for free speech: the Augustan poet Horace calls it "December liberty.” These practices correspond to Twelfth Night traditions when a Lord Of Misrule is elected and conducts proceedings and everyone flouts all the usual rules and conventions.

Author's Reply:
Thank you for your interesting historical comment. I feel the poetic response to the New Year must relate to the present situation rather than the long past. Enjoy, but recognise world realities as well - the war-torn, the dispossessed, the starving ....Alcohol is a poor plaster....Bozzz

Pronto on 30-12-2013
Quadrille Cynique for New Years Eve
Yes this is a cynical piece David but it cannot hide the underlying desire for real change no matter how often we fail the attempt. If only we were not so human eh? 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thank you Gerald for your comment and mark. You are so right about desire for change - it is the natural human spirit....David

barenib on 30-12-2013
Quadrille Cynique for New Years Eve
Annual escapology it may be, and I like the phrase, but happy new year to you in any case - John!

Author's Reply:
Thank you John -, your 'but' says everything - the poet's true economy of words ! ....David

MrMarmite on 30-12-2013
Quadrille Cynique for New Years Eve
A tongue in cheek poem I reckon ?
I do feel the new year celebrations are the same as the Christmas one,some go over the top while others hardly bother with it.If my local pub doesn't charge us to get in which didn't go down well last year,that's where I'll be.
As it's a bit of a spit and sawdust boozer you would think it's a normal Saturday night ! Anyway happy new year !

Author's Reply:
Yes Kevin, it does get stuck there from time to time. Many thanks for comment and mark.....Enjoy your boozer trip, mate.... David

pommer on 30-12-2013
Quadrille Cynique for New Years Eve
Yes, let us enjoy,even if it brings back sad memories for some of us.A good poem David,which I sang to the tune of: "Should old acquaintance be forgot" it goes well. Happy New Year David, Pommer.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Peter, especially for being the first to recognise the intended tune to go with it ! There were clues. My I wish you especially a very happy and contented New Year - one that befits our age and abilities. ....David

Mikeverdi on 30-12-2013
Quadrille Cynique for New Years Eve
My local Bistro for Lesley and myself, I've known them for 40 years; I think that's long enough to know if your going to enjoy yourself or not 🙂 Nice verse David, congrats on the well deserved Nib. Mike

Author's Reply:

ValDohren on 30-12-2013
Quadrille Cynique for New Years Eve
With you all the way on this one David - when it comes to cynicism, I'm top of the class. There is a lot of hypocrisy around at this time of year (and the rest of the year as well), and you know what they say, "the road to Hell is paved with good intentions." Bottoms up anyway.

Best wishes.

Valxx

Oops, forgot to rate - its a definite 10.

Author's Reply:
Dear Val, that 10 is indeed a handsome New Year gift - who could be unhappy at your generosity. Thank you. And yes, 'bottoms' up is certainly better than blowing up our fellow mankind in futile acts of deluded self-satisfaction. Secular blessings ...David

ValDohren on 30-12-2013
Quadrille Cynique for New Years Eve


Author's Reply:

deadpoet on 31-12-2013
Quadrille Cynique for New Years Eve
I may be naïve but each new year I wish for a better world the next year- more sense and less futility- yet I am mostly disappointed. Not much is happening. Though I do agree- why all the alcohol-poor excuse??? No alcohol for me- then I'd be too sleepy to see the fireworks which I love. I agree with above to break the dismal and gloomy days wth a celebration. Only 2 months left of Winter now.

Very well put together poem Bozzz

Happy New Year. Hope it brings you good fortune.

Pia

Author's Reply:
Dear Pia, Your "Only two months left of winter...", is the best news - thank you. I will celebrate that !
And thank you too for your kind comment - the poem was handwritten in 1946 and has lain dormant in my notebook for nearly 70 years - waiting for a New Year to come I guess. The best of 2014 for you...David

Nemo on 31-12-2013
Quadrille Cynique for New Years Eve
It goes in deep and earns well deserved applause. Some unevenness in your metrical scheme but I'll overlook it as the message takes precedence! Regards as you plunge into next year. 1946? You'd given up being a despatch rider by then, I expect. Gerald.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Gerald for kind and and helpful comment. Despatch rider? -you are right - became even more dangerous as driver of our first car, a £30 1932 Austin Ruby saloon bought from a car dump. Interested in your comment on metric beat - it is intended as 4-3 4-3 beats per line for each verse. Please, where is the problem? Best New Year for you...David.


Portrait of a dying poet (posted on: 20-12-13)
Not yet dead

Portrait of a dying poet? A ranter with banter's A label for him, But his Santa decanter's Kept full to the brim. Bonanzas of stanzas, His poems run long; Extravaganzas When he is on song. It's the Reds that go with e'm Keep him rhyming all day, While his beats and his rhythm Hold free verse at bay. His friends say ''Escape From the chains of the metre''. Poetical rape At the Gates of St Peter ! David. December 2013
Archived comments for Portrait of a dying poet
JackCrowe on 20-12-2013
Portrait of a dying poet
I love this Bozzz

Rhyming and extravagant alliteration to the very end!

Author's Reply:
Well thank you Jack, a great Christmas gift to an old codger - I can now stay alive a bit longer in good spirits - and remain one step ahead of (or is it behind?) Pia = Deadpoet....Best wishes, David

Andrea on 20-12-2013
Portrait of a dying poet
Well, that is just brilliant!

Congrats on the nib.

Author's Reply:
Well thank you Andrea for your kind comment - and whoever waved the mystery wand - not intended as a farewell gift, I hope !! Secular blessings....David

Kipper on 21-12-2013
Portrait of a dying poet
And so say all of us, especially the bit about 'holding free verse at bay'.
Great stuff!
Michael

(One little thing; what's that bit about the reds about?)

Author's Reply:
I am a tad partial to the reds from the Bordeaux region - what they call 'soft wines' - they keep one's temper on an even keel. Thank you Michael again for your kind comment and support.... David

stormwolf on 22-12-2013
Portrait of a dying poet
hahaha well said! I know you do not rate free verse and I used to hate it too. A well thought out, rhyming, metred poem is a joy to read.
Sadly they are hard to achieve and so many times I read one that bounces along nicely...then falls as it goes all skew-wiff in the metre half way through lol
It's like red hot pokers to the brain.

Yours do not come into that cateory and there life in the old dog yet!
Alison x

congrats on the nib.

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison, I do share your 'red hot pokers to the brain' scenario, though being male, one's thoughts go lower down - 'a hot ride' is my normal polite way of expressing the problem. My thanks for your kind comment. Re free verse, reading experience on several poetic website communities has taught me that the approach has great benefit when it comes to creating atmosphere and verbally painting pictures - while rhyming and metre are better for telling stories and sharper for humour. As ever, it's all down to word choice, whatever the technique. Ah well, back to the kennel.....old bones among older.! XXX, David

Mikeverdi on 22-12-2013
Portrait of a dying poet
Its all been said...except 'I told you so' Ha Ha! just had a delivery of the 'Red' I will raise a glass old friend.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks a bomb, Mike. Apologies for late arrival. Here's to you both - santé. Hope Santa is kind this year....David

Nemo on 22-12-2013
Portrait of a dying poet
A nice jab at the lazy free verse 'poets' - it takes hard work to write like this - well done - stay alive to keep your flag flying. I prefer white myself but I'll have your red, thanks. Have a good rhythmic Christmas, Gerald.

Author's Reply:
Hi Gerald, as you may expect, I deeply appreciate your kind comment. Plenty of white available here to celebrate free verse - Santé....David

Corin on 22-12-2013
Portrait of a dying poet
A brave effort - I wondered how long you would be able to kep up the doule internal rhyme scheme - brave effort though:-)

I am sure all the kids in school leaning to measure in metric units agree with you about "the chains of the metre”, however they should think themselves lucky that they did not have to measure and calculate in yards feet and inches!-)

Dave

Author's Reply:
Thank you Dave for the tip - interesting. Strangely it never occurred to me about creating the double rhyme scheme - it just happened in my twisted mind - I will look again along those lines and see what happens. What was deliberate was the use of the word 'chain' because 1 chain = 22 yards = 20.1 metres - but I guess you sensiblyl-educated metric folks were too young to spot the double whammy. Thanks again...David

Kipper on 25-12-2013
Portrait of a dying poet
Yeah, got it. Well it's my tipple too; got one in my hand right now to wish a versatile 2014, free or otherwise.
Your health sir,
Michael

Author's Reply:


Not only the Devil tempts (posted on: 20-12-13)
The lost.

Behold a lofty castle in the sky. There stands a lonely 'cardinal' in thrall, A sentinel that mocks the passers by, Yet many mortals flutter on his call, Not seeing that a play is made, and why, That fantasy makes fools of those who fall. ''Hear me, men that tread a rugged earth, Join me, men that slave in heartless life. Here's a keep upon the air that's worth All fortune cast away your strife. Believe with me and see your troubles go, The values of a pagan world are spurned, And simple harmonies of God will flow; The corner to eternal life is turned.'' So beautifully the way to worship's told, With bible, parish sermon and a prayer. So tempted are the lost to be enrolled, That oft the castle seems not in the air. David. December 1946 and December 2013
Archived comments for Not only the Devil tempts
Kipper on 21-12-2013
Not only the Devil tempts
Beautifully written with a flow and rhythm which is a pleasure to read. As to its meaning one wonders at man's need for something beyond himself, prepared to believe in a promise without guarantees.
(Or did I take a wrong turning somewhere?)
Whether or not, a very nice read.
Best wishes, Michael.

Author's Reply:
No Michael, you are spot on. My thanks for your comment and mark. Bar a couple of lines I wrote this poem in 1946 as a youth keen to solve the world's problems and not pleased with the church. Still not pleased but in a more temperate way.... Personal best wishes...David.

Kipper on 21-12-2013
Not only the Devil tempts
Beautifully written with a flow and rhythm which is a pleasure to read. As to its meaning one wonders at man's need for something beyond himself, prepared to believe in a promise without guarantees.
(Or did I take a wrong turning somewhere?)
Whether or not, a very nice read.
Best wishes, Michael.

Author's Reply:

stormwolf on 22-12-2013
Not only the Devil tempts
Fab! The first stanza was pure genius and the rest was not bad either.
I have come to detest the catholic church but I mean no offense to most of its millions of good, trusting followers. The scales are falling from the metaphorical eyes at a rate of naughts these days.
I detest all those who took Jesus's gift to the world and twisted, manipulated and altered it to keep the poeple in bondage.
If we want to end world poverty all in one fell swoop? the Vatican could do it today.
Yet, the other day, I saw someone on the dreaded facebook praising the new Pope for giving food to two thousand starving people...
It nearly blew my mind at the level of blindness and stupidity that praised that (albeit better than nothing) while not looking deeper into the real dealings of the Vatican, world banks and the genocide taking place globally.

Now you can see why I feel alienated for I saw the number of people who agreed it was wonderful while remaining blind to the bigger picture.

Alison x

Author's Reply:

Mikeverdi on 22-12-2013
Not only the Devil tempts
One of you're best David, as you are well aware I agree with every sentiment. Mike

Author's Reply:
Mike, that is indeed generous - thank you. And if it was your nomination, my word, still more thanks ! I was doubtful about this one, but continue to be surprised at the kindness of you all. Except for two lines it was written in 1946 and my ideas have not changed a lot - more tolerant perhaps. Await photos with interest. Yours aye, David

deadpoet on 22-12-2013
Not only the Devil tempts
I am in total agreement with the sentiments here. I have never been attracted to any faith- I have faith in nature and good people.

Pia
xx

Author's Reply:
Dear Pia, If I knew a sober secular equivalent of 'Amen to that' regarding your own sentiments, I would write it here. 'And so say all of us' does not sound quite right ! My thanks for reading.
Have an interesting and pleasant Xmas ...David


Christmas grows with you (posted on: 13-12-13)
From toddler to teenager. With a touch of assumed precocity on their behalf, this bedside story charts typical scenes as children grow older. (No need to speak the age groups.)

From toddler to teenager What did Christmas bring alive? Found the truth when I was five. Aged 1 to 3 Early one morning I'd sucked a world of chocolate pence, came breakfast time, my tummy tense. The teddy bear, he's not brand new, they must have nicked him from the zoo. The yellow duck what is her name? Oh god! that means a bath again. 4 to 6. A three-wheel thing's dropped on the floor, not quite sure what it is for ‒ Surely not old pedalling cart? There is no button that says ''Start''. 7 to 9. My train set, wound it up too far, so playing with my electric car; put in batteries wrong way round? no 'vrooming' noise, there's not a sound. 10 to 12. This year expect there'll be a bike with bells and whistles and the like. At last - here's my Kalashnikov, now I can pop the teachers off. 13 to 15. A new I-pad sits quietly mocking, no hint of password in my stocking. Trust the grown-ups to forget; a 'work-around'? Not tried that yet. A proper guitar - hurrah, hurrah, At last they've listened, I'm a star ! Beatles now be on your guard, I promised Mum I'd practice hard. I'm 18 now, deserve a Merc. Hope Dad will bring it home from work. Or Honda bike that's racing red ‒ but nothing's standing by the shed ! I'd learned to read when I was four, so no surprise ‒ there's books galore, One from schoolfriend, very odd, says 'Man it was created God'. 'God made us all' the bible says, in church they're singing hymns of praise. Who is right? I must decide, not now, perhaps next Christmastide. My parents said that they'd made me the night they'd married, out at sea. David December 2013
Archived comments for Christmas grows with you
Mikeverdi on 13-12-2013
Christmas grows with you
Written in you're own brilliant way David, as entertaining as ever...and not a 'rant' in site. 🙂 Mike

Author's Reply:

ValDohren on 15-12-2013
Christmas grows with you
Hope you get all you wish for this Christmas David - now what would that be when you're in your eighties, oops did I get your age wrong. As for me, well I am sure you can guess. Merry Christmas to you.
Val 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thanks Val. In one sense, many of us are with you, for which of us older folk has not lost a loved one in the past year. I lost my younger brother in September. Yet to lose a loved husband or wife is the greatest of all losses and its finality brings pain. Time does heal, but too slowly. Acceptance is no cure, but helps. Stay strong - you have a life to live yet. As a fellow poet, my wish for Christmas is your return to happiness - it may come when you least expect it. ....David at 90.


Very senior moments (posted on: 13-12-13)
When poltergeists take over?

How long are senior moments meant to last? He'd rather hoped they're relics of the past ! One started yesterday he lost his phone, Near ten o'clock it was, He's still alone. He checked the likely crannies twice today All places where it might have gone astray He even rang the pub to check with them, But how did he do that without his gem? It's time for him to stop And think again. Good heavens, there it is before his eyes, Sitting on its charger big surprise !
Archived comments for Very senior moments
pommer on 13-12-2013
Very senior moments
Hi Dave,
love it.We all experience these moments in our old age.Can't find my car, to be told I haven't got one anymore.Gave up driving after the TIA. Take care, Peter.

Author's Reply:
I had a friend who walked to work on morning and when he came home he realised his car had be stolen in the night, but he had actually walked across the drive that morning where his car was normally parked without then realising it was missing. Loss of one's driving permit is one of the biggest blows to anyone's personal lifestyle - and ego. You took it well, Peter. My best ...David

ValDohren on 13-12-2013
Very senior moments
I notice this is written in the third person - does this mean you don't have senior moments David. Such moments are not confined to the realm of the elderly, I have known young people who can't remember anything !! Good write though, now I must go and find those car keys.
Val xx

Author's Reply:
The poem was originally written the first person singular for a good friend in UKA that told me of his latest moment. It was to illustrate the difference between senior moments and Very Senior Moments. To actually use the thing you are looking for to try and help find it and then forget that you had done so before realising it is where it should be, is surely the King of Senior Momentage. Well, I do forget things sometimes but hopefully not that badly, so I made the poem third person singular. You are clever to spot that Val ! Bless you for trying to make light of such occasions anyway ....XXX David

Corin on 14-12-2013
Very senior moments
Very amusing Bozzz, I have had a really serious attack recently of these senior moments. Apart from the fact that I am always forgetting people's names I keep finding that that I cannot remember the proper word for things - most alarming! Recently it was the word for a fairground ride where you yo go up and down very fast in a car on rails - A Roller Coaster! I now have a notebook with a page called 'Lost Words' - that seems to help. The worst problem though is my glasses. They keep disappearing - it is though as they sprout legs and walk off! It has got better because I have learned to be very disciplined and only put them down in one or two places, on the string round my neck, the bedside table or in their case in my bag. If I do have to put them down in the bathroom or somewhere I say 3 times out loud to myself -"Your glasses are beside the sink!"

Dave

Author's Reply:
Thanks Dave, I think we share some of the disciplines that can help. I comfort myself that nature has made our memory bio-degradable in order to keep us fit in our old age hunting for our glasses. Your idea of speaking the location when you place them suggests that you feel your memory is strongly biased to aural responses. I am a bit deaf so it has to be visual situations I record. Thanks for useful comment...David

Kipper on 15-12-2013
Very senior moments
Good one David. Seems you have found a rich seam. Very amusing if it wasn't so true.

Michael



Now what do I do to send this off? Funny, I'm sure I did one yesterday!



Author's Reply:
Thanks Michael, I guess our only option is to make light of our moments and pray they do not become chronic - you sound in that humorous vein. Enjoy Christmas...David

Pronto on 15-12-2013
Very senior moments
Great stuff Bozz you tell it like it is. I don't stop on the stairs these days in case I forget whether I was going up or coming down!

Author's Reply:
Thanks Pronto, I think your stairs pause is more than a senior moment for it has great value in normal life. Do I really need to bother going up, there may be something more useful to do by staying downstairs. it's called 'work study' ! Enjoy Xmas...David

Ionicus on 15-12-2013
Very senior moments
The thought that a senior moment can become a VERY serious moment is alarming, David. Are we kidding ourselves that our memory lapses are only temporary?
You have painted a realistic picture of how anybody can be forgetful but the lighter tone of your poem suggests that the situation is not irredeemable.
Good one.

Author's Reply:
Luigi you raise the key questions. I kid myself that I am coping, but I guess we are all terrified of our lapses turning into brain disease and the best way of dealing with that thought is to make light of them. But humour does not bring redemption, only alleviation. Routine helps some of us. Every man for himself I am afraid. I lost my younger brother to dementia last year and that is so painful to watch, let alone care for. My thanks for your input...David


NHS treatment (posted on: 09-12-13)
Free at the point of delivery? A deploration. There is a simple Treasury formula : Foolish bankers+ ignorant politicians = bankrupt country + struggling health service

NHS treatment ''Free at the point of delivery''? At point of delivery Nothing is free. We're not in arrears, We've paid in advance In taxes for years. Mis-labelled by Government, Sold as a gift. We fell overboard For a trading description That's basically flawed. We used to be patients, It's ''Customers'' now In a shop that we own ! That doesn't sound right In a free-market zone? It's seven eighty five, Each drug that we need. What the rich can afford, Some poor cannot pay. Old system restored At the end of the day? David. December 2013
Archived comments for NHS treatment
Kipper on 09-12-2013
NHS treatment
As you say; we have paid in advance.
But 'they' say its free. Well, there is no such thing as a free lunch, for everything has to be paid for somehow, somewhere, sometime, by somebody.
Not always the one who wipes his chin after a fine meal, oh no, but someone pays - usually us!

Good one David - sorry if it caught my funny bone - Michael


Author's Reply:
Michael, I pay for your treatment, you pay for mine - new meaning for going Dutch? Thanks for finding me and the comment. Hope the funny bone is getting treatment too - rub hard...David

Mikeverdi on 09-12-2013
NHS treatment
You are always on the ball with these 'Rants' of yours. It is so true, sadly no one in the 'big picture room' will ever take a bit of notice. Great writing David. Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike, good friend. Rants? - well this one is really in sorrow. I realise I have become a bit of a polemic poet - no romance or memories - just the now and the future - but it is temporary I assure you. I am not sure if I told you about my regular 500 word column pieces in the local magazine - about our home life - dedicated to laughter. They keep me sane..., yours aye, David

pommer on 09-12-2013
NHS treatment
As well written as ever David.You are right about the customer bit.I cringed on one occasion when an "administrator" referred to the service as as the industry. It is not getting any better. Peter.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Peter for finding me in the depths of the list. You hit the nail with the term "industry", for that is the greatest danger for us all. Exit "vocation", enter "Box- ticking Company Ltd".
Our very best Christmas wishes to you and your family. Keep strong....David and Meg

stormwolf on 09-12-2013
NHS treatment
I love and share your philosophy David. I see such sad times all around and so many suffering needlessly through mis-management and corruption.

Merry Christmas my dear.



Alison xxx

Author's Reply:
I am very touched Alison. Yes we see problems and that hurts and yet we realise how lucky we are - warm homes, things in the shops, good friends that care. We have no power to make things happen - so its words that throw light at darkness our only weapon.
Yes, and up there north of the border, as a lifelong southerner I hope you will stay with us and wish you all the very very best too - whatever happens. Love and thanks for the mark and if it was you that waved a wand, thanks again....XXX David

ValDohren on 09-12-2013
NHS treatment
When I worked in the Health Service, patients were known as "Service Users' - are they not now ? Anyway Bozzz, I get your drift - its those politicians again !!

Author's Reply:
Yes Val, all patient enquiries in the Trusts are referred to The Customer Relations Departments. Of course it is the type of service given that matters more than the name they have. Symptomatic it may be, but basically there is a lack of funds chasing too many patients and that does lead, as you say, back to the bankers and politicians. But we are broke as a country so it is inevitable. What they can and should do is make sure the poorest get what they need - above all else. I am still paid a pittance by the NHS for the consulting work I do with their research programs and compared to the chaotic American scene, I am a keen supporter of our system. Keep charming us and enjoy your Christmas ...XXX David

bo_duke99 on 11-12-2013
NHS treatment
very neatly put David, nothing I can fault in the argument, and plenty to admire in the poetry - Greg

Author's Reply:


Glorious stuff? (posted on: 06-12-13)
Here is my Christmas poem, with acknowledgements - if due. And to fellow poets all, warmest greetings. Wishing the Stuff misuse brigade an uneasy conscience for the New Year.

Stuff, Stuff, glorious Stuff, Nothing quite like it, we can't get enough. There's Iphones and Ipads and Kindles galore, With Laptops and Desktops for those who want more, There's gigantic Servers that sit on the floor, Memories in stick form, big chip ones that store. There's Megabytes, Gigabytes, Pixels that glow, And USB sockets where Plugins can go, With Modems and Routers awaiting your call. Keyboards and Touchpads and Mice that can't crawl, Hard disks and CDs, Vinyls and Floppies, Some dead or dying, but where are the poppies? Take Printers and Scanners that copy and fax, Do Cameras and Cyphers stop cyber attacks? While Wi-fi and Bluetooth remotely include What you thought was private, and oopsyou were nude! Now Hacking and Tracking the Mobile your friend, Today can be downfall, your Trojan, your end. There's scams and false emails sneak under your guard, With Software for working that Malware makes hard, And Spyware and Firewalls for Virus and Worms, Yes, these are a few of my favourite terms. There's Tabloids on Androids, they're seen every day And porn for our children wherever they play. See murder and sexting and men on the score, For some say that's what Stuff was invented for. There's Facebook for 'show offs', the 'look at me', tribe, Tweeters for porkies, tough comment or jibe. The media is social, man's survival mode, What Darwin envisaged, but not via this road ! Stuff, Stuff, poisonous Stuff, There's some who may like it, but I've had enough ! David December 2013
Archived comments for Glorious stuff?
pommer on 06-12-2013
Glorious stuff?
Wonderful David,I do agree I too have had enough,especially as some of the descriptions for different devices are absolute foreign words to me.I have always flattered myself to be a bit of a linguist, but this beats me.So if it beats me, What would my Grandfather say if he came back?The world has certain.ly changed over the 163 years since he was born.Well written.Have a nice weekend, Peter

Author's Reply:

orangedream on 08-12-2013
Glorious stuff?
Here, here! Wonderfully put.

Tina

Author's Reply:


The silence of the elderly couple (posted on: 02-12-13)
Who goes first?

Yes, all is not what it may seem to be. The things that deeply trouble them -- and me. Below the surface neither speaks of what the other fears, of what tomorrow brings, Dependency of who on whom, it's going to be. If she's unwell, or she departs, has he to learn to shop and cook? If he's unwell her burden grows. If he departs, then may she have more time to read her book? Who goes first? It's company survivors miss the most. No fun living with a silent ghost. David December 2013
Archived comments for The silence of the elderly couple
Mikeverdi on 02-12-2013
The silence of the elderly couple
Bugger, that's a bit deep for a Monday morning David 🙂
Mike

Author's Reply:
That's why I arranged for it the be last on the current 02 Dec list. You are not supposed to get there until Thursday afternoon. Your speed of descent appreciated....David

pommer on 02-12-2013
The silence of the elderly couple
David, how true to life,we all wonder who will go first,the worst part of it all is that one loses half of one's memories when it happens. Pommer.

Author's Reply:
My brother's wife lost him through dementia. Two years before he died she said "I have lost him - he is no longer a companion." Many have to wait far longer than that and for different reasons. Prolonged heartbreak is the cruellest loss. Thank you Peter for your thought....David

bo_duke99 on 02-12-2013
The silence of the elderly couple
a slice of reality with a great last line, but a consistent tone throughout - Greg

Author's Reply:
Yes Greg, the tone cannot avoid being sorrow, later tempered with relief for both parties. C'est la vie.Thanks for reading...David

Kipper on 04-12-2013
The silence of the elderly couple
I guess that most of us who have reached this stage in our lives spend half the time thinking about this, and the other half trying not to think about it.
Thought provoking stuff.
Michael

Author's Reply:
That's so true Michael - painfully so. Every time one of us has a just a cold or a tummy upset, these thoughts are resurgent. Thanks for comment...David


Chimney pots (posted on: 02-12-13)
Polluters of the world unite. Idle bastards

Of chimney pots There's many, lots Belching laden smoke Into a laden sky. Life in laziness, static, high. Embered Times and Guardian daily meet; find reason for debate, upon some matters of the state. Bury anger in the fog. Pots are loungers, sit agog and echo with the arguments. Rest warm and thrive at our expense.

Archived comments for Chimney pots
Mikeverdi on 02-12-2013
Chimney pots
Clever stuff David Ha Ha! Love the lay out. Mike

Author's Reply:
If only the UKA centering process worked properly. Thanks Mike - forgot to enter the fact that this was written in 1946 but updated to change one of the Newspapers - guess which and guess the original?

pommer on 02-12-2013
Chimney pots
Grate David,Love the lay out. Pommer

Author's Reply:
Actually, grate news - this was written in 1946, when London was always covered in smog. Before coal fires were banned. Thanks for visiting, Peter.....David

bo_duke99 on 02-12-2013
Chimney pots
built up a real head of steam, and some lovely phrasing (espec. last 2 lines), all that and it looks like a chimney - great! Greg

Author's Reply:
This is as good as my artistic skills can get - near zero marks. Must do better. Thanks Greg ......David

Kipper on 03-12-2013
Chimney pots
Clever words and clever design.

Michael

Author's Reply:
Persuading the UKA software into even this simple layout, was a pain.Thank you Michael, comments much appreciated..David

Red-Poppies on 07-12-2013
Chimney pots
Clever - and I love the shape.

Chimneys always remind me of old men sitting smoking whilst chewing the cud, so your description hit the spot for me.

Author's Reply:
Dear Poppies, thanks, we need more commenters like you. Glad you think the piece was apt....Bozzz


Tidiness 2020 (posted on: 29-11-13)
There is now an entirely new form of government to consider beside Democracy and Dictatorship. It is the Tidycratic State.

The Tidycratic State has come at last, The high street lamppost speakers set to call, While cameras watch as we just amble past, A Warden sits in office, scanning all. A hundred screens he sees, two eyes are cast. I pause to sneeze and wipe away a tear, A Werther's wrapper slips from hand to ground. ''Tidy Alert , Tidy Alert'' comes loud and clear. Alarmed, all heads are raised, they dread the sound ‒ Disgracing me, the message all can hear : "Will the unshaven gentleman in the shabby brown corduroys and dirty black shoes pick up his discarded sweet wrapper from the pavement ‒ at once. Your ASBO and radio tracking band must be collected from the nearest police station within forty eight hours Sir''. If tidiness be England's sacred cow, Heaven on earth for some, but not for me. I'm tagged and nagged and flagged, with beaten brow, Community Service modern slavery And all for sucking sweets I need one now ! It's true I am a 'real and present threat', Security and order are at stake. There's wrappers in my trouser pocket yet; If one more falls ‒ again ‒ though by mistake, The Government will clearly feel beset. It's ''Life'' the likely minimum I'll get. David, December 2013
Archived comments for Tidiness 2020
Ionicus on 29-11-2013
Tidiness 2020
Not only are you a henpecked husband, you are also being watched by Big Brother. Tidiness must be maintained at all cost.
Mind you, if you are tagged by GS4 you can make your getaway without any problem.
A good moan, David.


Author's Reply:

pommer on 29-11-2013
Tidiness 2020
A really lovely poem, David.It does remind me of my old country,"Es ist verboten." I wonder if the guy in the box watching us has the voice of a Dalek? The time may yet come, when untidy old codgers like you and I may be exterminated.
Still, that may be better then sitting in one of those waiting rooms for God, called Residential Homes.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Peter for that kind comment - though I am sorry if the poem took you back again - not intended. Residential home, departure lounge - our dreaded thoughts. Your forecasts look ominous, but may well be right ! It is true that many of us would like to go sooner rather than later, but as you say. Es ist verboten ! My best wishes, David

Mikeverdi on 29-11-2013
Tidiness 2020
Not sure about it being politically correct (I don't want to be carried away), but it's bloody good (as usual) I also question the dress sense you mention as I understand it... you would have been in a dressing gown. 🙂
Another terrific rant David.
Mike

Author's Reply:
I never knew you were a Daily Mail reporter as well. Thanks Mike .. on the ball as ever...David

deadpoet on 30-11-2013
Tidiness 2020
I'm afraid I'd object to the sweet wrappers too David. But I do understand your rant. Nicely written!

Pia
xx

Author's Reply:
I am frightened you might ban sweets to avoid wrappers. But I feel sure there will be a job for you in the Warden's office ! XXxX...David Thanks Pia.

Kipper on 30-11-2013
Tidiness 2020
A good poem with a moral and a touch of humour. Is that allowed?

Michael

Author's Reply:
Humour allowed ? Perhaps only if it is at the expense of the wrapper dropper. Clean shoes and trousers with immaculate creases recommended.
Thanks Michael

Andrea on 30-11-2013
Tidiness 2020
Hopefully I'll have shuffled off before all this comes to pass...

Author's Reply:
I cannot believe you are a Werther disciple as well. Suckers of the world unite. Look out for me in the Low Priority queue outside St Pater's gate - it is rather long....XXX David

bo_duke99 on 01-12-2013
Tidiness 2020
well get a damn shave then, otherwise they'll simply profile you ;o) A gimlet bright idea with a witty flare in the delivery, nice one - Greg

Author's Reply:
Thanks Greg. Shaving is equivalent to tidying up and must be postponed indefinitely. May have to try bribery when they clamp on the tracking collar. Greetings...David


Human rites vs human rights? (posted on: 25-11-13)


Have peoples of the world the means to act? To cope with climate change before we die? The 'noes', 'deniers', ''Don't believe that stuff'', ''The sun will see us through'', ''We will get by''. Commercial drive, the elephant in the room That trumpets still expansion, goal for all, The oil, the now, the frack of gas to boom As lemmings, deaf to nature's warning call. The press is used to foster seeds of doubt By those who have the most to lose from sense. In corridors of power they use their clout, Force Governments to sit upon the fence. The sea warms faster, ice caps now recede, The glaciers melt and stay that way all year. Is Zeus up there attending to our need? For Carbon is the God of Death to fear. ''Remain competitive'', the last post sounds, The scientists sink in swamps of 'likelihood', Tsunamis, hurricanes and floods abound, Whose obvious meanings seem not understood. Each must make the vital choice today; Believe the science or swallow doubter's call, Choose there is no time, brook no delay, Or watch while earth becomes a lifeless ball? With tim'rous bleat, politicos fly kites, Pretend to care, prevaricate, do 'nowt', While future children stand to lose their rights ‒ To stay alive ! ‒ what hopes for hereabout? David November 2013
Archived comments for Human rites vs human rights?
deadpoet on 25-11-2013
Human rites vs human rights?
Well said David- we must take Global warming seriously. And not be so greedy that we destroy the planet for our grandchildren. It's so disconcerting to see the oil and fracking companies get the go-ahead from the polticians and doubters.
I think your rhyme and the words you use are very fitting for the subject and the title is ingenuous.

Pia
xx

Author's Reply:
Yes Pia, you are right, these are not soft or pleasant words for neither is the subject matter. My thanks for the comment and the high mark for something not exactly poetic !.XX .David

Mikeverdi on 25-11-2013
Human rites vs human rights?
Terrific stuff David, in another country you would be looked up for such seditious writing...telling Governments what to do; only a poet could do that...and none better than you.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike for that uplift - even it only leads me to jail. Bail? Some hopes. Better I try some harmless stuff next week. Forgot to mention that your Colognial piece almost gave me an asthma attack - all that perfume... Hugs...David

Ionicus on 25-11-2013
Human rites vs human rights?
You'd think that the politicians would have got the message by now but it seems to have fallen on deaf ears.

Author's Reply:
My thanks Luigi, Yes, though I suspect the poor buggers know what needs to be done, but the deafness is seat-related - always the next election is not far away and it is our voices that are not shouting hard enough to penetrate the fog of political convenience that will crowd the media over the next few months. Even The Times is now sickeningly devoted to trivia and the capers of the rich in the divorce courts.

pommer on 25-11-2013
Human rites vs human rights?
Another very true comment. What do politicians do? All idle talk, and no decisions about the future of our planet.We have a duty to speak out,in order to hand over what we have inherited.I only hope that those who follow us won't have reasons to curse us.I agree with Mike, in some countries your words would be classed as sedition.Well written as always David, Pommer.

Author's Reply:
Peter, you have it right. It is only our voices that will force change. Maybe you are right on this too - I will be last seen waving at the window of a white van taking me from the court to prison ! Your comment much appreciated - my thanks.

ValDohren on 25-11-2013
Human rites vs human rights?
Man has manipulated his environment since he learnt to wield a hammer, and I don't think things are about to change - get ready for self-destruct, there's no going back I fear. Excellent as always David.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Val - Yes you are right, as the world organisations are now structured, mankind cannot afford to go back - even a step.

bo_duke99 on 26-11-2013
Human rites vs human rights?
a great rant most well aimed David, I couldn't agree more - Greg

Author's Reply:
Well thanks for comment Bo. Rant? - yes you are right .... hopefully better than 'er rant' ..sorry....David

Kipper on 26-11-2013
Human rites vs human rights?
Wise words Bozzz, but prophetic I fear. The undeveloped world striving to catch up with the developed world, and the developed world striving to keep ahead of the undeveloped world, and always the population growing.

WE can all see it so clearly. Why can't THEY.

Best

Michael

Author's Reply:
You have it spot on Michael. They do see it, but also believe that they are powerless to act - like a mouse sitting before a cat - accepting karma. Who will be big enough?
Thanks for the comment and the mark....David


Professor Tree (posted on: 18-11-13)
On the A354. My natural non-topiaric friend

Each time I pass him by, he smiles at me, Benignly from his lonely roadside perch. His spectacles slip forward as he peers The outline shows a perfect bearded head. I've got to know him slowly, by degrees. My questions seem to make him turn and sigh, Each time he nods his answers to the breeze.. I never seek to ask him how, but why? Why tractors always tow an excess load? Why accidents frequent this cursed road? Why every field that borders it grows rape? Why all the trees but his are out of shape? When I set out to Salisbury he is there, With not so much a greeting, but a stare. ''Why go to town to sate your petty greed, Your farm shop gives you all the food you need''. We're going this time to buy my wife a hat, What greater virtue can there be than that? ''If it's for the Jubilee next week, It's pride not virtue, that you really seek''. When off to see the doctor yesterday, ''What ails you man'' he seemed to lean and say, ** 'There was a young fellow called Boswell, Who thought he was ill when he was well'. There's nothing wrong. Go home at once - and stay''. ** Couplet originally composed about me by Bertrand Russell.1928 I was 5 years old. He never completed the limerick perhaps out of kindness? My family have enjoyed rectifying the omission on many occasions - to their satisfaction, but not always mine ! DB. David Boswell May 2012
Archived comments for Professor Tree
Mikeverdi on 18-11-2013
Professor Tree
I like this one David, a bit different than some of late. If I may offer an opinion.. I would have liked the couplet at the end rather than in between; just me mind! I met BR once at a CND meeting.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks early bird, yes a bit different. He must have been pretty old by then, but a remarkably tough nut in his old age. My father was a follower and sent me to his boarding school, run mainly by his wife - a sort of open prison in the wilds of Sussex. A traumatic start to my life after my parents divorced. All looking good for Sat this end - will call you on Thursday. OK?
I thought long and hard about where to put the couplet, and decided to,leave it where it is because it is intended to be an integral part of what my tree friend was saying. It gives the reason for the wording in the last line. Thanks for the suggestion anyway- definitely worth raising...my best, David

deadpoet on 18-11-2013
Professor Tree
I liked this David- trees are very wise and witness much of life we humans never see. I think this is a nice tribute. I also like the layout and rhyme here and free verse there- very special..

Pia
x

Author's Reply:
Yes Pia I too love trees, for me they are people - alive and well - and can talk.
And thank you for your encouraging words on the poem ....do appreciate that....David

bo_duke99 on 18-11-2013
Professor Tree
a worthy vehicle for what is surely a cherished couplet, thoroughly modern in every way, think he might have liked that - and I very much liked this, thanks - Greg

Author's Reply:
Thank you Greg, that's kind of you - coming from the other end of the spectrum as it were.....David

Andrea on 18-11-2013
Professor Tree
Bertie Russell, our hero of the 60s. Marched with him in London (CND).

Brilliant - loved it, especially the couplet 🙂

Author's Reply:
My lads were with you. thanks Andrea...David

Ionicus on 19-11-2013
Professor Tree
Never marched with B. Russell but that is neither here nor there. Like the poem, though.

Best, Luigi.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi, nor did I, far too busy in industry on secret work ! Guess what on ! My heart was with my sons though - they were there with Andrea. Perennial dilemma...David


A warning on the tree of life (posted on: 15-11-13)
This type of event must surely have preceded the romance of Adam and Eve. Deflowering, au naturel?

It is the merry month of May. Be he moth or butterfly, The flirt may light on you today, With flattery in wing and eye, Seek first to find a cunning way, Distract, deceive, you'll wonder why Your perfume's whispered clean away, The pheromone, love's best ally. And then the roving leg in play With different purpose, on the sly. Where had they been, his feet, to stay? There's procreation lurking nigh, Your sacred jewel on display. Hurrah ! The flirt has scored a try. Pollination, love, obey. The fruit is there, you multiply. Sorry mate, for my delay, November now, you're apple pie. David November 2013
Archived comments for A warning on the tree of life
Mikeverdi on 15-11-2013
A warning on the tree of life
Ha Ha! another gem David, nothing like a bit of leg over...I USED to say 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thank you Sir. As always Mike, randy sod, straight to the action point ! I often wonder at the length of time it took before people began to wake up and question some of the logic in religious stories. For a book I wrote I studied all evil gods in the many different worldwide early religions over time and some the nonsense was unbelievable - yet people did believe - often through fear...See yer, David

stormwolf on 15-11-2013
A warning on the tree of life
I remember going to the Botanical gardens here in Edinburgh and there was an exhibition of the mating of plants. I tell ya, all those stamens and nectar...it was almost too much to take and needed an x certificate!
Quirky and fun David but as always, so well written

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thank you Alison for digging deep - and early at that ! Yes, plants are cunning species that seem to have to use more devious methods than we straightforward humans. A mere touch of hands and we are lost...love it....David.

Kipper on 15-11-2013
A warning on the tree of life
Great rhyme, great rhythm.
The old old story given a new twist.
Did I say great?
Michael



Author's Reply:
You read my mind Michael - thank you. How many millions of years does it take anyone to develop lichen on a rock into earth and cultivate a tree from a blade of grass and then fix for it to produce apples? It is all logic plus miracles....here we go again !... David

deadpoet on 16-11-2013
A warning on the tree of life
God had nothing to do with it. That's my interpretation. Beautiful David-

:)Pia

Author's Reply:
My thanks Pia. I sjhare your opinion on God and am very grateful for your comment - and mark....warmth, David.


Evening at the edge of the airfield. (posted on: 15-11-13)
No suitable category available. Free verse, short line prose written in 1943, WW2, while in the RAF.

The winter sun slips softly down, Her setting heralded By the short staccato bursts Of cold engines. The disease spreads, The din is deafening. Bombers buzz to and fro, Jockeying for position. The green light flickers Then slowly, singly The black shapes move, Galloping up the runways Like reluctant carthorses Heaving their painful loads into the blue And purring, set their course For the silver Rhine. The tumult of the day has melted And cotton clouds alone possess the sky. The sun retired to bat again And I Sit patient, lonely, Forced in doleful solace to admire The towered universe and earth, Solid; coolant of desire. The land now fresh, Recovered from the weary tread of man And trees convey their message, leaf to leaf, Each whispering its words of hope, And yet again - who will return?
Archived comments for Evening at the edge of the airfield.
Mikeverdi on 15-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
That is just brilliant David, I had a brother I never met that was killed in a Halifax flying out of Limington, I found his grave and spent an hour; he had to stay while I came home.


Author's Reply:
So sorry to hear about your brother, Mike, he must have been a lot older than you. Very touched by your comment....Yours aye...David

Kipper on 15-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
We hear so often of the large number of victims of war. Rightly so and it must never be forgotten. But what I get from your poem is that of the individual, alone, one of many but essentially alone with his thoughts and fears.
Timely words,
Michael

Author's Reply:
Thank you Michael. Yes, one's thoughts were of both those who were going to be victims of the bombs ("painful" loads) as well of those brave crews getting the flack. But primarily the latter, one's friends. I was an engineer, fresh out of college....David

stormwolf on 15-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
I have just read Ewan's poem and now I come upon another 10 category. The standard here is very high indeed. This is brilliantly written David.
It catches the loneliness, the uncertainty and not least the incredible bravery.
Bravo

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Alison, frankly I have been bowled over by the response to this piece from long ago - written when I was 20. I usually enter two pieces and delete the worst one early in the morning. At 8 am Mike had beaten me to it and commented, so I had to leave it in. Obviously I am no judge of my efforts. Well, perhaps it just caught the mood - some things happen like that.
My thanks Alison for giving me strength... David

EmotiveSoul on 15-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
David, what can I say?...If I could write anywhere near the standards you set yourself, I would be a happy man. Brilliant. Daz

Author's Reply:
Well Daz, it is now a question of what can I say !!. Your kindness has given me a rocket booster that will give me lift-off for life. Thank you indeed.....David

deadpoet on 16-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
Such a striking picture David- I am glad you came home.

Pia 🙂

Author's Reply:
Thanks Pia for your comment and greeting. Mighty glad to get home. Saw Burma and the invasion of Europe, yes, lucky to survive....David

Ionicus on 16-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
Memories are a great source of inspiration.
One thing struck me apart from the eloquence of the poem, David. If you wrote this in 1943 how old are you?

Author's Reply:
Hi Luigi. From your carefully worded comment, of course I get your message ! Visit me, as Mike will be doing in a few days time, and I will show you the original text in my ill-educated handwriting in my notebook. The date is on the page, but can also be verified from the political poems on pages either side of the one in question. I will show them to Mike and you can quiz him.
As to your question, young man, I am 90 and enjoying your cyber company. I do understand you, but no offence taken. Your words 'inspiration' and 'memory' triggered this response....In friendship.. David

stormwolf on 16-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
I have asked Mike to give you a cuddle from me when he sees you. 😉 x

Author's Reply:
Bless and thanks - maybe I should hope he delegates the cuddle to Lesley ! Enjoy it I will, whatever.
David

Chinamanink on 16-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
And I - a breathtaking pause that really brings the twist to the poem, and adds a whole other dimension to it. This reminds me of The Valley's Sleeper by Rimbaud, there may be better translations but I hope you like it.

http://janisfreegard.com/2010/08/10/tuesday-poem-le-dormeur-du-val-darthur-rimbaud/

Thibault

Author's Reply:
Thibault, Thank you for your kind visit and equally kind words. I read Rimbaud's poem in French first and then the translation - carries well - much enjoyed. You are right in suggesting a similarity in approach - the shock in the last line. Rimbaud's poem was cleverly in rhyme - as indeed most of my work attempts. This is only the third prose piece I have ever posted.
You have generously signalled approval that my piece is Hot - an honour I have not previously known - please accept my gratitude for that ... in friendship, David

Buschell on 17-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
A national treasure. An epitaph fit for those that never grow old. Fair play to you sir....

Author's Reply:

pommer on 20-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
Hi David,
a very emotional very well composed piece of work.I have thought deeply whether to comment or not, As I was on the opposing side during that dreadful event, and the recipient of those loads of bombs on one or two occasions.I must however give credit to a good piece of writing,and also honour those , on both sides who did not return.I was lucky, got through in East ( mostly) and West.Got home, but not to my homeland.
I hope you don't mind my comment. Be lucky,Pommer.

Author's Reply:
Pommer, I do appreciate your reply and the problems the piece raises for you. As I said to Kipper, My thoughts were of both those who were going to be victims of the bombs (I used the words "painful" loads - deliberately because i knew they would inflict pain) as well of those brave crews getting the flak. Thank you for your decision to comment - much appreciated. And thank you too for that 10. In friendship...David

Andrea on 20-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
Wonder if you came across my pater, Bozzz - he was a tail gunner with 267 Squadron, '39 to 44.

Tommy Lowne

Luckily both he and you returned...

Author's Reply:
Dear Andrea, I made many friends while in the RAF - and lost many too. Part of my job was in early visits to crashed aircraft under my wing as an engineer, a few times to see them - but sadly dead. For Tommy, a "tail-end Charlie" to have survived is a miracle, they were easy targets - had great courage. So glad he made it - afraid I did not meet him.....David
Andrea, if you have a spare moment please read the comments on my poem to the end - heart-warming for me as there is also a private reply from Pommer. A deserved bouquet for UKA. For obvious reasons I am sure he would not mind if you read it.

Kipper on 21-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
Dear David,
I am very moved, and no doubt others are too, that your poem has brought about the opportunity for two people in their twilight years, who were on opposite sides in the war, to metaphorically shake hands and express friendship.
How many poems can do that I wonder? For that alone I up my mark to ten.
Michael



Author's Reply:
Dear Michael, I am very touched by your comment -- and for the upgrade. In truth it is really Pommer that deserves an accolade for his courage in deciding to comment in the first place. I have not quite figured out where he came from but perhaps his pen name Pommer is short for Pomerania on the Baltic coast? Poets of the world unite ! Thanks Michael.....David

Andrea on 21-11-2013
Evening at the edge of the airfield.
I had already read the comments to the end, David. Pommer's signature is Szczecin

I think we have all achieved something wonderful here, and triumphed indeed.

Author's Reply:


Feeling Guilty? (posted on: 11-11-13)
You feel guilty? Forget it

Feeling guilt is wasting human time, The lachrymose reptilian will aver, No benefit to victims of a crime Or balm to brain for evil Lucifer. If prison's now equivalent of Hell And liberty deprived by chains of time, How then can purging remedies repel The thoughts that came to generate the crime? If blame's the source of pain in mortal mind, There's torture that is waiting to be found, A prayer then pardon if the gods are kind, Earn Heaven, if not, the paths below abound. Forgiveness too, comes deep in nature's flow, An antidote humanity gives free, But only when prescribed by those who know Regret is there for commonsense to see. Our weeping is for sadness or for joy, To celebrate the living, mourn the dead, While chance determines which we may deploy, Let guilt rest in atonement, not the head.
Archived comments for Feeling Guilty?
Mikeverdi on 11-11-2013
Feeling Guilty?
Excellent, I love the second stanza. Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike - can't wait till the 23rd. Yrs, David

Ionicus on 11-11-2013
Feeling Guilty?
As you rightly say, David, feeling guilty is of no benefit to the victim nor does it signify contrition. Libertarians claim that rehabilitation can change the nature of the beast. I would hesitate to accept such a proposition; as the saying goes: a leopard doesn't change its spots. Still we can never discount that atonement might just work.

Best, Luigi

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi for your visit and apt comments. You are spot on as to my beliefs too - "might just work", but the circumstances rarely help this.

Kipper on 12-11-2013
Feeling Guilty?
Too much to take in just one read, or several for that matter. Even then I doubt that I have understood every point.
My conclusion however does not square with your opening line, for surely guilt is the precursor to contrition and atonement.
We are after all no longer beasts of the jungle.
That said I acknowledge that there is much in your piece to warrant a further visit, or two, or three.
Good work, Michael

Author's Reply:
Thanks Michael, for your comment - yes the poem does take a few swipes all round. But in your comment "guilt is the precursor to contrition and atonement". you share my meaning too. Do not let guilt sit in the brain, do something to get rid of it - atonement should target banishment of the nagging feeling. Maybe I did not put it in the best way.....David

Andrea on 12-11-2013
Feeling Guilty?
Couldn't agree more! Personally, I don't do guilt at all - total waste of time.

Author's Reply:
Yes Andrea, you are right - it's dead easy - no crime, no hurt, no guilt. No offence taken !
Mike and Lesley are coming to see us in a few days time...we straw-sucking West Country bumpkins must stick together. Regards.....David

Andrea on 12-11-2013
Feeling Guilty?
Are they? How wonderful - they're a lovely pair, you'll have great fun!

Author's Reply:

EmotiveSoul on 12-11-2013
Feeling Guilty?
David, love this poem and it's subject. Daz

Author's Reply:
Thanks Daz for your kind thought. True it is not an easy matter about which to wax poetical....David


The Secular Angels of Salisbury (posted on: 08-11-13)
The medical profession is motivated by a desire to cure people. Inevitably incurables rate lower in the priority list. We have to accept that state-engendered Triage is applied to us all.

The 'Angels' come in haste, Shape and size and smile, Each time a different chore, The pill, the pot, the pillow, Often many more. Here nurses find Nirvana, Another patient need, The extra ounce of care, A further mile of work And yet, with time to spare ! What price attention paid If whims of angels met? I'd dare not move, just wait, To stir'd be revolution; Paralysis my fate? But No! A whispered voice Comes waking me at dawn, My sats, my temp, my soil, My tea, my flakes, my toast, An endless daily toil ! We patients merely pawns To play the medic match. My wheeze, my bowels, my pain, To fill the questionnaires, With little hope of gain? They want me out and quickly ''Your bed is needed go !'' At home my wife is there, We'll watch our ageing, slow With mutual loving care. Incurables sit low in lists, Priorities elsewhere. It's right of course, but hard For stricken souls to bear, Especially a bard !
Archived comments for The Secular Angels of Salisbury
Mikeverdi on 08-11-2013
The Secular Angels of Salisbury
With you all the way on this one David, once they say "we can do no more" its keep taking the tablets time....and that's it! You captured it so well, I feel abandoned now by the NHS. Mike

Author's Reply:
Mike, my thanks for your comment and mark. You are certainly not alone in feeling abandoned by the NHS - almost all the thousands of patients patients who contacted my help website over five years were those failed by its errors and omissions. Of course these were lung disease patients who received palliative treatment only - no cures. The basic underlying problem is that the Drug manufacturers make all their money from the palliatives, they do not want cures - cures would be disaster for their business so they do not put money into the type of research that is really needed. Another industry that is in structural disarray. Sorry for rant !...David

Ionicus on 09-11-2013
The Secular Angels of Salisbury
I agree with your sentiments, David, but from what we hear and read, you are probably better off at home.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Luigi for comment. As a person still paid by the NHS for my (hopefully expert) opinion, I beg to differ. There is much talk but little action in training of the hundreds of thousands of qualified people needed to provide effective support for home care of incurables. In cancer yes maybe, but for the rest there is still well-intentioned chaos. In particular the 3 million inarticulate poor with copd and other diseases....Cheers, David

pommer on 09-11-2013
The Secular Angels of Salisbury
A well thought out story David.Yes, I am afraid there have been many changes to the service,not always for the best.While the onus was once on caring,it is now like you say on curing only.I know some of the reasons why, but I am not going on my hobby horse as my wife would say.Well written David, take care,Pommer.

Author's Reply:
Hi Pommer, I'd be interested to know what horse you do ride - we would-be poets all have our speak-easies to lounge in and spout from (correction; 'from which we spout'.
Thanks for another apt comment....David


Tidiness (posted on: 08-11-13)
A future fast approaching our country.

There is now an entirely new form of government to consider beside Democracy, and Dictatorship. It is the Tidycratic State. Having worked hard enough all my life so that in old age we can afford a cleaning lady for a couple of hours once a week, I never realised the dreadful rod I was making for my own back. By nature I am a creative soul and with this trait comes a natural disposition, in Milady's words, to 'make a disgusting mess' ‒ everywhere. The truth is that life is too short and time far too precious to be wasted on tidying up. These mundane matters must be left until there is absolutely nothing else left to do. Sadly this brilliant proposition will not wash. It is Friday morning. I am still in my dressing gown. "Melanie is coming today. She'll be here any minute. Go and get dressed at once. For goodness sake put on a decent pair of trousers instead of your jeans - and tidy your bedside table. Oh - and when you come down, remove all that rubbish from your desk - make sure it looks presentable". Clearly it is not only the lovely Melanie who is about to cle