the friendly writers group
II’m in Communicado
The land of Zoom and Skype
Where people with bravado
Can chatter while they type.
A land of teeming zooming
Where no one stops to hear
Where tinnitus is booming
In each bombarded ear.
My telephone may call me
My neighbour ring the bell
I’m safe inside my headphones
Reclusive in my shell.
I study tell-tale backgrounds
In everybody’s rooms
The learned tomes, the tattered blinds
The vase of faded blooms.
But if I’m in pyjamas
My webcam’s switched to veto
l see and hear but disappear
Happily in Cognito.
I set upon the task that now awaits
To peel potatoes by the kitchen sink
Set saucepan on the gas, pile up the plates
Prepare the table, working while I think.
I feed my children, nourish them with thought,
Protect their dreams and guard them as they grow
Preparing for the world give quiet support
Set them upon their path and then let go.
They meet the world and enter its delights
Suffer its ills and struggle to be true
Find their own humble path or scale the heights
As individuals not the ones I knew.
So now they have their own tasks to fulfill
I peel potatoes, but am with them still. ©
Quartet on the Move
The Queen’s got to move, the plumbing’s so bad.
Hussein flees Sudan, a price on his head.
And Parliament’s quitting the House where they’re sitting.
The fabric is crumbling, so MPs are grumbling.
Joe Bloggs can’t stay put in his poky old flat
He’s too many bedrooms and can’t pay the tax.
They’re all in despair
Oh whither? Oh where?
Well, Holyrood Palace might do for the Queen
The scenery is lovely, the air’s nice and clean.
Hussein makes his way to the Med’s tempting shore
Trusts himself to a dinghy with two hundred more.
The erstwhile Olympics might well house the House,
Joe Bloggs found a cubby-hole fit for a mouse.
When Scottish air palls, the Queen might locate
To Sandringham Norfolk, her spacious estate.
Hussein, lucky devil, has made it to France
Leapt on to a lorry and taken his chance.
Birmingham’s library beckons the Gov
With Hansards a-plenty, a café to love.
Joe Bloggs is now safe – till they put up the rent
Then out on the street – if he’s lucky, a tent.
A Thinking Person's Menu
Soup for trouble
Fish for compliments
Lamb for mildness
Beef for complaints
Gravy for riches
Onions for knowledge
Carrots for encouragement
Beetroot for embarrassment
Pie for pleasantness
Raspberries for scorn
Crackers for madness
Cheese for discouragement
Butter for flattery ©