Eulogy to a Moth

We found it dead in our daughter's bed

It was light as a feather

And we wondered whether there were any words

To say, with which to pay our respects

To this creature, on that would barely feature

In our day to day lives

One which only ever arrives

With the sun down, light switched on

A true fly by night on paper wings

This airborne goth

Sleep well, little moth

Shane

You set me spinning

A wizard of mastery

and mystery

Joyous to watch

Your skill and enthusiasm

To be bamboozled by googlies

Flustered by flippers

To be treated to a masterclass

Every time

And now, never again

Will we hear the words

'Bowling Shane'

Brings a tear to my eye

Never again that zinc cream smile

Sits heavy in my chest

Though I wanted to

I could never bowl as well as you

But there was no one better

To emulate

No one better to hate

In all those Ashes defeats

And no one better to miss

Not that we wanted to so soon

Hoping

Hoping
For a Christmas
Getting together with
Those we love and care about most
Hoping
For a winter
With a family kept safe
And no gruelling home schooling
Hoping
For a new year
Getting out and about
A return to normality
Hoping
Hoping...

Another Channel Tragedy

I'm just going to leave it at this, because really, there is nothing else to say:

Hopes dashed
Like their bodies
Trying to escape death
But finding it, wet and tugging
Drowning

Choice - for National Poetry Day 2021

This my poem for National Poetry Day, inspired by their theme of ‘Choice’.

I have tried to think about ‘What is choice?’ And ‘Who has it?’

Choice is a word that is used a lot in the modern world, especially since the opening of privatisation and free markets in the UK. We are told that we can choose all sorts of things, but do we really have choice, or is this just an illusion.

Having said that, in the western world we have much more choice around our everyday lives than those in other countries, but even here large amounts of the population do not really have choice.

In the backdrop of Sarah Everard, can any woman really say that they have the choice to walk alone anywhere at night?

In the wake of Black Lives Matter, can any person of colour really say that they have the choice to follow certain careers or be comfortable in certain places?

In the current energy crisis that hits the UK, and the loss of a large number of energy companies, who can honestly say that they have a real choice in who provides their gas and electricity?

And in the wake of Covid, how many people can say that they’ve had a choice in the way they work from now and into the future? Is homeworking possible? Is it enforced?

The key to choice comes with power, privilege and control. None of us will really have choice until we are able to harness all of these to some degree.



Freedom
Comes from choices
As we are always taught.
Or are we caged in a cycle?
Upgrades.
Switching.
Renewal dates.
Comparison websites.
Where differences are miniscule
And our minds become swamped
What is a choice?
Power.
Control.
This is freedom,
To have power and control.
But for those who lack these
Means no freedom.
No choice.

Suburbia on Sea

Raining

Pelted windows

Gurgling down the drainpipes

Fast flowing rivers in gutters

Flooded gardens

Water pooling in the rosebeds

Settling on the bin lids

Suburbia

On sea.

We've had a few hard downpours lately...

In Twenty Five Years

It's twenty five years since Euro 96 and the last time Wembley hosted England v Germany in a tournament game.

In penalties and heartbreak
In phantom goals and pain
In hope that crumbles into dust
And washed away with rain
 
In hope and dream co-mingled
In football coming home
In records that write of failure
In an ever growing tome
 
In all our patient waiting
In a quarter century
In another twenty-five years gone by
A silverware anniversary