Monday, 29 February 2016

March Enters!

March enters – with an icy chill
Slip-sliding cobbles are no thrill
The shops display their springtime wear
But in this cold wind, I don't care!

Fur jacket to the fore once more
And leather gloves – my hands are raw
I observe the branches tinged with green
Twigs sway freely, no buds seen.

On a walk this weekend wrapped up tight
Winter jasmine – yellow aconite
And joy of joys! Bright daffodils
Nestling in the barren rills.

A heron swoops across the lake
Small ripples – a fish life at stake!
Nature tosses in her bed
Sparse rays of sunshine on her head.

From Weatherman: more of the same
This aching coldness is a pain;
I stop, stare hard and see blue sky
Fingers crossed that Spring is nigh!

(c) Poet in the woods 2016

Monday, 22 February 2016

Thomas - at Childcare

It's amazing how the voice evolves;
The brain hears sounds and slowly solves
The mystery of the link between
What is said and what is seen.

Take Thomas (now two) who observes
Familiar objects and hears words
Grasping concepts like “Bye, Bye!”
And “Time Out!” which can make him cry.

Too young to make sense of it all
He learns by doing; don't we all?
He chatters, trying out his voice
A made-up language of his choice.

Then - left at Childcare, he declaims
Calling things by their right names!
His act improves by leaps and bounds
When other toddlers are around!

(c) Poet in the woods 2016

This is Poem 600!

Sunday, 21 February 2016

Boris Johnson enters the Ring!

Blonde-headed Boris, hair awry
Has now announced his battle cry
The Mayor of London shows his hand
His Euro-sceptic stance is planned!

He's kept it quiet but did you know
His leanings to the Left still flow?
Eton and Balliol – he's a toff
Charm offensive – can he pull it off?

Cameron's Conservatives are split
Enter Boris, smiles and wit
British patience now wears thin
“The wise guy plays the fool to win!”*

* Boris's own words
Pro-BREXIT declaration: 11th March, 2016

(c) Poet in the woods 2016

Saturday, 20 February 2016

In Abeyance

It is Sunday, early – the day dawns
Wreathes of mist waft over lawns
The neighbourhood has not yet stirred
Though the big tree hosts a lonely bird …

Winter's grip is tight and strong
The opaque Heavens have no song
Life's on hold and Nature sleeps
The dampness clings, the coldness weeps...

The glistening cobbles touch my feet
Snow was promised, we got sleet
It's depressing – our morale is low
When will the joyful crocus show?

The wind picks up, the branches sway
High out of reach, small nests are grey
They're up for grabs; no tenants yet;
A clutch of eggs and we're all set!

All seems suspended animation;
Yet I feel a sense of mild elation,
Each day the light, though wan, increases
And the springtime puzzle has more pieces!

(c) Poet in the woods 2016

Thursday, 18 February 2016

The BREXIT Summit

As a Brit, I feel I must speak out
What is this “Brexit” all about?
Our PM must with caution tread
We Ex-pats know our minds; we're led

By the freedom and the quirky style
Of Brussels – how it makes us smile
With its multi-culti ways and means
“Système D” - the stuff of dreams.

It's quaint and picturesque and smart;
Has an idiosyncratic heart
Its beer and chocolate every time
Are, let's admit it, quite divine!

OK, mobility's a pain
But trams and buses take the strain
There are parks and gardens when it's fine
And what a place to wine and dine!

In terms of weather, it's the same
But the wealth of culture makes it plain
Brits help to make the Union strong
31,000 Ex-pats can't be wrong!

(c) Poet in the woods 2016

BREXIT Summit: February 18th, 2016

Monday, 15 February 2016

Groundhog Day!

The chill gets in our bones – we ache
Europe's winter's hard to take
The tiny specks of palest blue
Do not convince me winter's through.

A cuckoo's call in nearby wood
Alerts me – nature's grip is good;
Though we don't see signs of the spring
In frozen puddles; insects cling

To twigs and shelter under leaves
Owls silent, camouflaged in trees,
Sense when a change is in the air
So baby earthworms best beware...

As each day lengthens, the earth turns
The sun's rays warm and nature learns
To put in motion chlorophyll
This greening is an annual thrill!

Groundhog day, an ancient rite;
Will he see shadows or bright light?
Eagerly, the Press await
On Feb 2nd* – we shall know our fate!

(c) Poet in the woods 2016

*on which day, according to popular legend, the groundhog emerges from its burrow,
prompting the prediction of an early spring if it does not see its shadow or six
more weeks of winter if it does.

Friday, 12 February 2016

Rains and Tunnels

Incessant rain; depressing sight;
Drivers' nerves stretched hellish tight
Windscreen wipers cannot cope
Getting home at night's no joke!

Traffic jams are de rigueur
Europe's capital's a blur
The streams of cars do not abate
In this small city, all are late!

Too compact, crowded, lack of space
Victims of life's modern pace
Car owners block up every street
Trams and buses can't compete.

Time was when tunnels helped the flow
Back in the Fifties – way to go!
But ageing badly, they now creak
Overused - their panels leak...

Worst case scenario – second rate;
Crumbling death traps lie in wait;
Closed off, forlorn - they need repair;
While Brussels' citizens despair!

(c) Poet in the woods 2016

Wednesday, 10 February 2016

Adelaide - After the Thunderstorm!

Time presses – and the rains have come;
Some plants revive - though the harsh sun
Makes victims of much native green
Burnt to a crisp – a sorry scene...

It's quite amazing – barren branches
Shoot out tendrils – taking chances
To capture in this brief respite
Life-giving droplets of delight.

The winds make short work of leaf pools
The sun's rays dazzle them like jewels
Hordes of bugs resuscitated
Swarm merrily, their torpor sated.

The life force – strongest pulse - abounds
Ant armies, water-logged, are found
Hurtling over mulched back yard;
As survival can be very hard.

Australia – land of stark extremes
Escarpments built on miners' dreams
Flaunts high-tech and Internet
But grinds to a halt – when wet!

Sudden squalls – monsoon-like rains
Though rare - gush headlong, flooding drains
Bone dry roads turn into mires
Sharp contrast to those fierce bush fires!

(c) Poet in the woods 2016