BREXIT - Postponed?

March 29th* came by and went
But BREXITeers are still hell-bent
On making good the people's vision,
Instead it causes a wide schism.

Beliefs and hopes swirl in the mist
Does anyone now get the gist?
Catchwords are floated on the Net:
The Back-Stop saga is a wreck.

Uproar yes, but no surprises
Denied three times, the Commons rises
The beleaguered P.M. casts around
Whereto is our future bound?

Demonstrations in the streets
The Media overwhelmed by tweets!
Foreign nationals want to know
Should we stay, or should we go?

We May take action we regret!
Clause 50 is the final step;
Yet Europe's unity depends
On all countries staying friends ...

(c) Poet in the woods 2019

* Now read 31st October!!!

A Walk through the Marolles

Bright sunlight: roadworks down Rue Haute
Bus and ambulance take note!
Pedestrians trip over bricks
Yet here the heart of Brussels ticks.

High road, once outside rampart walls,
Was filled with labourers and stalls
Selling goods devoid of tax
(Medieval authorities were lax!)

Brussels weavers plied their trade
Then foreign craftsmen made the grade
Bric-à-brac, furniture and lace;
Six convents saved those in this place

From cholera, plague and destitution
And tried to curtail prostitution
Trains were made here, beer was brewed
Fire station - overcrowding - feud!

Expropriations, lawcourts rose
Now daily market for old clothes
Antiques and oddments, lamps and books
And litter - everywhere one looks.

Place Jeu de Balle - flea market site
A dodgy area at night
With colourful characters on the fly
The Police, we hope, are standing by!

(c) Poet in the woods 2019



Place du Jeu de Balle

The Conversion - Week Five!

No sign yet of the House-To-Be
A plot this small must needs be twee
The floors and walls on both sides need
A major make-over indeed.

The gap leaves much to be desired;
The architect must be inspired
To provide all Mod-Con in this space
Where a tiny terrace has a place!

Dull heavy thuds on terrace wall
More shattered bricks on roadway fall
Wheelbarrows filled with rubble pass
The concrete mixer churns at last ...

Cracks and fissures, dust on leaves
The painted fascia's gone and trees
Appear before my morning eyes
My hanging basket, hookless, lies

On the ground, it can't swing free
Amid a pile of masonry ...
All's quiet at last - I sweep away
The remnants of the workmen's day...

(c) Poet in the woods 2019

A Double Disaster for Brussels!

We're deluged with news – so much is fake
But these are true – it's hard to take!
Tourists come in droves to see
Manneken-Pis and watch him pee ...

Help! Brussels council's drastic measure
Is to block the flow of our wee treasure
In a bid to save our 'blue gold' cost ...
Hence the fountain's function will be lost!

A second disaster in the making:
Sam's Cafe's zebra-horse is quaking
This landmark feature, loved by all
Stands proudly in the Station Hall.

But now The Bulletin cries out
His swift removal's not in doubt
Much loved, he brings a smile to faces ...
Does the Midi need more sandwich places?

(c) Poet in the woods 2019



April 2019: a petition succeeded in saving this much-loved Landmark but Sam's Café has given way to Prêt à Manger.

Thomas and the Breakfast Bear

With a pile of toast upon his plate
Thomas, all smiles, cannot wait
To enjoy his breakfast before school;
To study he must needs refuel!

But who's this new friend by his side
With beady eyes and furry hide?
A quiet observer propped up close
Who looks with longing at his toast?

Pooh Bear or Paddington from Peru?
This shaggy look is somewhat new
White-faced, he hasn't caught the sun
But loves his food – look at his tum!

Fuzzy Bear now reigns supreme;
Isabella, absent from the scene
As Thomas, unfazed, takes his time
Click goes Mum's camera – and this rhyme!

(c) Poet in the woods 2019

New Feat for Isabella?

Perched on her haunches, she surveys
Assorted footwear; can she gauge
To whom these clumpy things belong?
Will Mum or Dad's feet put them on?

At fifteen months, the choice is vast
Isabella's pensive eyes now cast
Their gaze upon this pile of shoes;
None fits her, so - how can she choose?

It's a challenge she's not met
How soon before her ten toes get
Themselves inside some grown-up shoes?
Auntie waits to hear this news!

But, as far as I can tell
Though pulling herself up is swell,
She hasn't yet quite learnt to walk
But devotes her time to talk the talk!

(c) Poet in the woods 2019

Surface Excitement!

There's a quantum shift, the sun streams back
Warm feelings, we are right on track
My terrace, though brushed clean, looks bleak
A hefty clean-up planned this week.

Amazingly, some plants survive
Their green shoots tell me they're alive
Such resilience! I admire them most
While others long gave up the ghost!

The metaphor is tired and worn
But «Nature sleeps» until Spring dawn
Last year's flower displays are doomed
My hanging baskets must be pruned.

And though the morning light is faint
The days get longer – no complaint!
Time to pull out all dead wood
And air the soil – it does it good.

I'll meditate on what to grow
No rush - as Nature's ways are slow...
But here and there a herb appears
Despite the odds, and my heart cheers!

(c) Poet in the woods 2019

A Pink Bonanza!

Despite the chilly winds that blow,
Let's be grateful there's no snow!
Bright yellow daffodils now beam
And woodlands show a tinge of green.

Birds twitter, lost in lofty bough
If you listen, you can hear it sough
Torrential raindrops purge the air
And street drains gurgle everywhere.

But winter's turbulence is past;
The sun on daisies shadows cast
It's clear that Spring is peeping through
On this clean slate so much is new.

In a local square*, not far from me
A vast, pink-petalled flowering tree
Its myriad branches flirt and toss
On passers-by, pink candyfloss!

(c) Poet in the woods 2019

Rue de la Foresterie, opposite the Boitsfort ponds

Sixty is Only a Number!

This pome will take you for a ride
So hold on tight and jump inside.
Go with the flow - my words imbibe
Bright images in overdrive!

This is a tricky date to hide:
Eggs this old should not be fried
In golf a low score - player's pride
Headlines this old - cut and dried.

Weak lightbulb wattage at bedside
Far too late for groom and bride
Few wedding vows this long survive!
A career this long - is one tough ride!

It's many years to spend "inside"
In terms of hiking miles - a stride
So what am I trying to describe?
The date you reach on Monday's* tide!

(c) Poet in the Woods 2019



*.Written for CC's actual birthday: Monday, 18th March

The Conversion - Week Three!

My garage, once neat, snug and dry
Is roofless now, I see the sky
But rain in torrents fell this week
So what's left of the floor looks bleak!

More broken masonry and dust
Old iron girders, fraught with rust
And shelving, once locked on the wall
Now lie outside – no use at all.

March weather dampens workmen's clothes
Huge pile of rubble comes and goes
Wheelbarrow loads cart powdered grime
And the skip is emptied one more time...

On Sunday, briefly out comes sun
My snap shows raindrops on the run
A concrete mixer stands in wait ...
My party wall's in parlous state!

A group of Scouts, like garden gnomes
Sit outside on cobblestones...
Dog walkers stare at gaping hole;
We're still a long way from our goal!

(c) Poet in the woods 2019

A Pivotal Moment

Life is balance – an up-down thing
Think roundabout and hand-pushed swing
Ever-changing – fast then slow
Perpetual motion – ebb and flow ...

Staying in one spot is rare
Positions alter – have a care!
When the music stops – beware!
Who will sit on BREXIT chair?

The House of Commons, rafter-filled,
Has spoken - and the Deal is killed
Not for the first time we're at sea
Will the Island Nation now break free?

In all directions, big waves crash
The markets shudder, strapped for cash
The ice wears thin where MPs tread ...
What other options lie ahead?

Damned if we stay in, let's step out!
Or - is it the other way about?
I'm not alone to be confused;
All eagerly await more news!

(c) Poet in the woods 2019

Victims of Terrorism Day

Victims of terrorists – Unite!
Your day is here – so hang on tight
Recognition in a world gone mad
And where fanatics rule – is sad ...

Trial at last and condemnation
Of those who harmed the Jewish nation
By attacking visitors who came;
Museum* racked with death and pain ...

Then violent memories of a day
Where corpses in the metro lay**
As bombers struck without a sound
Airport in Zaventem closed down ...

We were unprepared, no warning bells
For guerrilla warfare, sleeping cells;
To the have-nots, the West looks effete
Fear now lurks in Brussels street...

For the victims compensation
Claims honoured after hesitation
Yet there can never be redress
For maimed survivors – in distress ...

(c) Poet in the woods 2019



* Brussels Jewish Museum attack - May, 2014
** Maelbeek Metro attack - March, 2016

Adaptation, or the Art of the Possible

This poet* of Varna (The Black Sea)
Hopes that his fine words can be
Adapted to the English tongue;
I tried my best – and it was fun!

How can a metaphor be wrought?
Can thoughts behind the words be caught?
Each language has its own restraints
Each poet uses his own paints...

To see oneself in print again
Is for a writer – the fast lane
The thrill sends shivers to the core
Now the spark will burn on distant shore ...

Such was my happy fate today
Yonko Yonkov's bound oeuvre came my way:
Neat gem edition - blue on white
Artistic woman bathed in light ...

Twenty-one moments penned with care
Dedications from a soul laid bare
«'Twixt Earth and Sky»'s emotive lines
The natural world in poignant rhymes.

Images succinct with feeling
Human lives are so revealing!
Nostalgia, fear, love and regret:
Odes to treasure and collect.

(c) Poet in the woods 2019



"'Twixt Earth and Sky" by *Yonko Yonkov - published in Varna, Bulgaria - February 2019

English adaptation by Jivka Ganeva and poems in English by Poet in the Woods.

The Conversion - Day Nine!

The impressive builders' skip - piled high
With bricks and tiles - alerts my eye
Garage destruction at its peak
This is the second load this week!

The house shakes; yes, we share a wall
It's disturbing hearing bricks that fall
Non-stop - I cannot hear myself;
Wine glasses rattle on my shelf...

Today more sections bite the dust
Now all is silent – it is dusk!
In toughened plastic debris lies;
I've got to hand it to these guys

Their hammer-wielding shows prowess
How neatly they clear up their mess!
Wow! Just adjoining walls remain
But the space will soon be filled again ...

(c) Poet in the woods 2019

It's Good to be Crazy!

'There's nowt so queer as folk', 'tis said
Can't we take this truism as read?
Take Belgium's wackiness - pure joy
Such fun The System to annoy!

In us, thank God, the brain contrives
To find escapes from template lives
In new pools of thought we swim
Let's go out boldly on a limb!

I'm convinced my friends are cracked,
For the 'straight and narrow' way is flat
And being off-beat has such charm
Quirkiness is boredom's balm!

What's normal? Who knows how we rock?
Why do things always 'by the clock'?
Originality is key
Surreal's a better way to be!

The poet hopes to set in motion
Weird thoughts and ideas in a potion
The rhyming pattern gives them form;
With luck more craziness is born!

(c) Poet in the woods 2019

Out like a Lamb?

Storm Freya chases March this week
Floods and destruction as I speak
So the lion roars as this month starts
And BREXIT shakes the stoutest hearts.

A metaphor for Britain's plight
Uncertainties make knuckles white
Should Clause 50 be revoked?
Did the British understand the vote?

Backstop dilemma, Irish quirk?
How will decisions shape our work?
Foreign nationals seek solutions
We've lost the plot – unknown conclusions...

We're in or out – like football team;
Is joined-up Europe a mad dream?
Should we listen to the people's voice
Or drift towards an awkward choice?

(c) Poet in the woods 2019

R.I.P. André Previn (1929-2019)

German-born but US-raised
Andreas, renamed André, stays
Out of harm's way, (times were cruel)
And in the New World goes to school.

Clever on the piano keys
A virtuoso – more jazz please!
Composer, class extraordinaire
Married (and divorced)* - with flair!

Conductor's baton to command
World traveller, greatly in demand;
Flown to the UK – André tries
To pick up Morecambe's cues with Wise...

Back in 1971 this skit
Was overwhelmingly a hit
Since that moment, strange but true
Monsieur Previn is «Preview»!

Now Berlin's babe at 89
Has left the stage for the last time
His career held audiences in thrall
But those 8 minutes** beat them all!

(c) Poet in the woods 2019

* five times, most famously with Mia Farrow 1970-79)

** 8 minute sketch on the Morecombe & Wise Show (1971)

André George Previn, né Andreas Ludwig Priwin: 6.4.1929 - 28.2.2019

Thomas is All Write!

Keen Thomas blithely goes to school
He takes it in his stride, it's cool
Already two months have whizzed by
But we wonder where his talents lie.

March is here and Thomas writes
On a blackboard – which is white
(In Oz most things are turned around)
School daily bulletins abound!

Two squiggly letters – that's a start
Variations – sort of modern art
No pen or paper – easy care
Write! Then wipe off! Clean slate fare...

Before the camera – unafraid
He puts his new skills on parade
To wield a pen is quite a skill
Not mastered yet, but he soon will!

Enthusiasm is the key
Fun learning sparks his memory
Forging ahead in his own way
A new page added every day!

(c) Poet in the woods 2019