Brexit blues, November 18l

They seek it here

They seek it there

An elusive answer

Maybe even a prayer…

For some

Salvation

For others

Despair

And

Or so it seems

There’s them

Apparently

Who just don’t care.

A 100 years before

Europe completed a War

But some, dared to dream

Dreams

(Beyond passports and borders

Economics, migration

Project Hope and Project Fear

Leave or Remain

The results unclear)

Of a time and a passion

Where all people could fashion

A desire to end up

At

The same destination.

Whatever your politics

Your strength of conviction

The things that you value

Your own inclination

Let’s hope that our leaders

Can find some contrition

And guide us towards

A reunited state

An undivided, egalitarian

Non sectarian

Nation

Oh my!

A Nation….

But despite these views

I’m afraid to say

(Judged by the news

Speculation, analysis

Guesswork, bad temper

Reasoned debate

Irrational hate)

Day

after day

after day

We are all headed for

The Brexit Blues.

I can only trust

That, we don’t end up

With a terminal case

Of national paralysis.

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The Bunuel Martini

I had the pleasure and privilege recently of meeting up with Stewart Bartlam, a long standing friend of Helen Carey. Stewart and I have got to know each other well, in the virtual world, and I have become a great admirer of his poems.

And now he has released a book, ‘The Bunuel Martini’. And we have got a copy. And I can unreservedly say that there are some very fine poems within.

I/you/we can buy it from Amazon or order it in book stores. 

And Stewart can be found at http://stewartstanzas.wordpress.com

Please do try his poetry – I feel sure that you will like it. A lovely man, an excellent writer.


In Crete we dreamed in blue

We had a holiday in Crete a little while back. The sea and sky were as blue as can be. The greens were equally intense. The kingfisher combined all these colours. The sunsets bled into the sea.

Helen and I met on a Greek Island, Kythira, when she was teaching creative writing. I was one of her students…I came home with the First Prize.

Helen Carey, this one’s for you.

(Oh! And hats off to Homer too! And a muted apology to the writer of ‘Grease’) 

IN CRETE WE DREAMED IN BLUE

It’s autumn

But in Crete the leaves are not yet falling

And I’m bursting with life

Olive grove glad

Back Home

In the land of the Iliad

We are here

Our 18th year

Greece, the landscape

Soaked in ancient Sage

Washed with Thyme

History beyond belief

And the nearly new

That’s me and you.

In our spring

Kythera was King

Oleander lit the way

Winding down dusted tracks to

The azure blue, Kapsali bay,

Hora above, gleaming alabaster white

In our autumnal , peacocked Crete

Kingfishers dripping jewels in flight

Across the Lake at Agir

Turtles stroke the tranquil waters at Koumas

Now, in the dream dented, honeyed night

My Cretan Queen whispers

Impish delight

“Greece is the word”

And I heard

And I heard

And I heard….


Remembering…