Thursday, 26 February 2015

Over the Border

Liege’s houses – redbrick lines
My empty carriage slowly climbs
Somewhere soon we reach the border
Efficient bridges, roads in order.

Imperceptible at first
A station sign; wind turbines burst
Upon a landscape flat and neat
Farms with solar panels greet -

Our eyes as sunshine strikes the panes
So much to see – I do love trains!
Aix-la-Chapelle (now known as Aachen):
The carriage fills – travellers darken

Armed with rucksacks – all aboard!
I’m encircled by a German horde.
My fellow traveller, young, fat knees
Must love his food – no Hercules!

Cologne cathedral – proud, iconic
Symbolises style Teutonic.
Past vast constructions Wirtschaftswunder
Flows the River Rhine in splendour.

Leafy glades, allotments, lakes
Tennis courts and factory gates.
While on a hillside, gleaming gold
Baroque church towers now unfold...

(c) Poet in the woods 2015

Wednesday, 25 February 2015

The Painted Room

Spring's in the air! Let's dab some paint
On dingy walls and bring new light
On Belgian beige – forego restraint!
Two eager workers prime with white.

The task looks easy but it's not;
Walls must be scrubbed; allowed to dry
Dust sheets were needed – quite a lot
Ladders manoeuvred, cloths kept by.

Re-hanging curtains took an age
When two top coats had been applied
Then the carpet cleaning stage
And replacing furniture inside.

At last, the bedroom lamps are back
Alarm plugged in by bedside chairs
We from our handiwork stand back
And hope it looks this way for years!

(c) Poet in the woods 2015

Tuesday, 24 February 2015

Outside a Brussels Metro

In hearty tones, two drivers chat
While we, who wait inside,
Are “entertained” without much tact
To facts that they should hide,

Such as road works on the boulevard
That cause such long delays
Time keeping thus is very hard
And happens on most days.

Our Belgian traveller is not loath
To voice his discontent
When forced to wait, his choice of oath
Ensures his rage is meant.

Those drivers sometimes bear the brunt
Of invective. It’s a shame
They’ve no defence out there in front
No wonder THEY complain!

So there we were, two buses stood
In a yellow, snake-like line
What had gone wrong? One of them should
Be leaving at this time.

We’d scarcely climbed aboard the first
When a third bus hove in view
And that’s when matters got much worse
Since it left without ado!

Our drivers went on talking
I admit it seems absurd
But I considered walking
Maybe my thoughts were heard?

STIB’s logic fools the common man
Progress must come soon
As gridlock means we all must plan
To dance to their strange tune!

(c) Poet in the woods 2015

* STIB - the Brussels Public Transport Network

Monday, 23 February 2015

Stepping Out

Down our winding street, on paving stones
Often cracked, I skip the light fandango
Taking my life in my hands
On cold, dark days.

Tenacious weeds insinuate
Their wicked ways between the gaps
And unsuspecting little feet
Pay dearly for their insouciance.

Cars briefly parked cause havoc
Puddles fill impromptu ruts
Lilliputian ice rinks
For the unwary.

Maybe when the election’s called
Something will be done
To rectify this chaos
But who said the way is always smooth?

(c) Poet in the woods 2015

Sunday, 22 February 2015

My Street in December

December, cold and dark and wet
With whirling winds which whip and fret
As they whistle in through letterbox
And beat tattoos on window box.

Far from the centre, just one bus
Almost empty as it reaches us,
Comes into view and people stare
Its timing is so laissez faire!

At first light twice a week they come
Blocking the early commuter run
The refuse trucks that groan and halt
As bin men our sacks catapult.

As warm as toast I’m oft inside
As the world to work takes its first stride
In dressing gown I pad downstairs
At three times twenty now – who cares?

The scattered clouds soon blow away
The weak sun smiles upon my day
Of course he takes his time, ‘tis true
Who else behind the grey sees blue?

At four the school kids are let out
Like falling leaves they swirl about
Keys in ignition, parents wait
As their progeny hurtles through the gate.

Almost as one, the engines start
And roar off quickly in the dark
The street abandoned, cloaked at dusk
Then resumes its vigil as it must.

(c) Poet in the woods 2015

Thursday, 19 February 2015

More Penetrating Cold!

The 21st of March has gone
Overhead the sun is wan
More snow is forecast; I declare
It’s enough to drive us poets spare!

I’m tired of wind and frost and snow
Can’t winter take the hint and go?
My clothes and boots are old and tired
Leaving this poet uninspired.

Three days into spring but no
Last night we suffered yet more snow
These whirling blizzards are unkind
The term “snowed under” comes to mind.

How those polar winds do blow
Giving our cheeks a healthy glow
Or is it that we rage inside
And our burning anger we can’t hide?

(c) Poet in the woods

(written in 2013)

Wednesday, 18 February 2015


The windows frost up in the dark,
The car has all but lost its spark
But with the heating on full blast
We slowly make it home at last.

With minus temperatures most days
We desire a hibernation phase.
While animals sleep both deep and long
Have we humans got it wrong?

We belong to a “superior race”
Where weather conditions have no place
In our regimented “work hard” lives
Snow blizzards notwithstanding, guys!

We leave for work when it's pitch black
With ice, not leaves, on railway track
In fog and sleet, progress is slow
But travelling hopefully, we go.

While squirrel, fox and woodland owl
Stay snug and safe when sharp winds howl
They observe behind their whiskered faces
Mad humans going through their paces!

(c) Poet in the woods 2015