Category: doggerel
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Under the Oak
Under the oak we met, and played. When Sun was hot, in shade we stayed. It cooled the breeze, and branches swayed. It served us well, and all unpaid… But now today I look, dismayed. This gorgeous tree has been betrayed. Who felt they could, this oak, degrade; Who’s moral code has been mislaid? Now…
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Belonging to the Land
I wrote the other day of an apocryphal link between monarchy and landscape, while referring to the recent death of the Queen. It’s probably born of legends and mythology such as the Fisher King and Bran, but I was thinking about actual physical connections today. They’ve locked her up in lead and oak, sealed so…
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Hubris
We’re a note in the music, a phrase in the song; A semi-intelligent self obsessed throng. With slightly more brain and a flexible hand, We establish a dominance over the land. And though we believe we are top of the pile The ‘verse will correct this conceit in a while. We are part of the…
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Inspiration Fails to Strike…
I’d rather call it doggerelthan verse or poem; you can tellI’m rather underplayingany hint of claiming “bard” My prose is pretty bad as well;confusing minds I’d ensorcell.You get what I am sayingI find this stuff quite hard. In truth I’d rather bid farewell,enunciate a counterspell,with inspiration fraying…remove my bard’s tabard. 😉 A bit of fun…
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Lockdown
In the quiet of a no car Sunday morning The new dawn Sun still low, white and bright on the horizon painting the world in long golds and greens There is never silence But today the modern world seems far away The blackbird’s liquid melody plays across the lawn uncluttered with the edgy rasp of…
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Friday 13th 2019
After the storm, when everything’s battered: Bleeding, twisted, broken and shattered. The only next step is to pick ones self up; Make a space, build a fire, help a friend, share a cup. Tomorrow will come, and the Sun will still rise To shine light on the aftermath – hope never dies. Be not overwhelmed…
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One Morning’s Musings
Eyes closed, and coffee in hand; hot and steamy, full of the smell of roasted beans. It adds a special buzz to the morning as I stand, Leaning against the camper van on the drive. Facing the winter Sun. Low in the sky, but yet powerful. Golden and yellow; the sky too bright to see.…
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British Broadbrushing Conspiracy
If you watch BBC news today You’re in for a big surprise Coz in between all the facts and truth Are blatantly evil lies As Newsnight treats you just like a prat By Photoshopping Jeremy’s hat Against a blood red backdrop of St Basil’s Orwell couldn’t make it up The Information Age is steadily taking…
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A Wassailling
From cold winter’s wassail we called to the old gods. Fire and drum, Cider and song We spoke to the night, and waked the sleeping land Came tentative spring all around began rousing Bud and shoot Flower and fruit They bathed in the sunshine and new April’s shower In high leafy boughs the blossom is…
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Paperbark Writer
Newspaper curls in the heat of the vitriol Steaming like ordure; a ranting tirade! Perhaps we should not take the wording as literal but Jesus is banned from the Easter parade! The eggs that he laid are no more to be Christian, The hare and the springtime fertility rite. The National Trust has defied all…
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