A Nation in Shock

A cloudless sky – a big blank page
Oh monotony of Belgian beige!
The Silly Season fully geared
With Facebook funnies just plain weird...

So I look back to Ninety-Three
On this day the Powers-that-Be
Played solemn music, in hushed tones
That filtered through to Belgian homes...

A shocked announcement, down in Spain
The sudden end of Baudouin's reign;
In fine form on our National Day*
No intimation Fate would play

The Ace of Spades, that fatal card;
Poor Fabiola took it hard
The Royal Question rose again
A silent week, now who would reign?

This hiatus troubled more than one
The Nation mourned, no work was done
Then younger brother, Albert II,
Took over - and we breathed anew!

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

* 21st July

Commemorating King Baudouin who died 25 years ago on 31st July, 1993 in Motril, Spain ...

A Deathly Hush

Death comes to us all, my Friend!
We may not know how life will end
But end it will, so we must try
To value friends as they pass by.

Facebook does not hold this view
Long-dead friends come into view
We're prompted still to celebrate
A sadly, long forgotten, date.

Post mortem, birthdays have no meaning
Shouldn't Facebook do some screening?
Our dead friends cannot read our post
As Americans would say, they're «toast».

My friends who've gone, stay in my heart
When their birthdays come, I start,
Remember them with love sincere
But silently, as they're not here...

"Pruning" - such a brutal word
But social media seems absurd
Facebook such accounts should close
But why it doesn't – no one knows ...

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

Dawn Discovery!

Terrace door wide open – cool
A hot house with no draught is cruel
A faint but happy sound I hear
Like Tinkerbell upon the air...

Could this be rain, I ask myself
The pitter-patter plays itself
Upon my parched and wilting leaves
Wafting basil on the breeze.

The thyme perks up, the parsley sways
My pert surfinas turn their gaze
Once more skywards, they were limp;
In window box, tall stems of mint!

Tomatoes burgeon on the vine
In terracotta pot, not mine
Their thirst assuaged in full last night
Their lusciousness a real delight!

How wonderful that life returns
Today's grey sky revives my ferns
So my meditation for today:
Nature gives and takes away...

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

Heading for Disaster?

How was it, when we went away
To foreign lands on holiday
It seemed that world news was on hold
Nothing happened – presses cold?

A sort of «news fast» was imposed
As we ran to beaches, wore less clothes ...
But this year Mother Nature's mad
Drought plagues Europe just a tad!

A cut-price airline* goes on strike
As cabin crews feel it's not right
To work for peanuts and long hours
Cancelled flights their plight empowers!

Has climate change reached tipping point?
Extremes put noses out of joint
Are selfish politics to blame?
Excuses for non-action, lame.

We're gambling recklessly with life!
As greed and carelessness are rife;
If he treats his planet as he should
Man has much power to do good ...

(c) Poet in the woods 2018



* Ryanair

A Modern Greek Tragedy!

Locals missed the warning signs
Sly holocaust in modern times
Greece beset by palpitations
Evacuations! Action Stations!

Through bone-dry forest, fires rage
Homes are scorched, cars set ablaze
Terrifying, death defying
Normal lifestyles soon untying.

On blackened hillsides mass confusion
Flames and smoke, asphyxiation
Tourists, horrified, discover
This Greek scene is like no other …

Devastation all around
Firemen try to hold their ground
Did Sophocles and Euripides
Write tragedies as wild as these?

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

As of 25/7/18 - over 70 deaths

A Perfect Day

Hot and bothered as the sun's so strong
The city's empty, tourists throng
Around our Gothic sites superb
But zen for me is the buzz word.

Why swelter in this brazen heat?
A wide-brimmed hat makes life complete
Together with cool drink and shades
This is happiness in spades.

My terrace beckons on first floor
A waft of warm air through the door
I can put my feet up, read a book
A sort of outdoor inglenook!

Why travel in this sultry heat
With sweaty brow and sandalled feet?
All I want is right at home:
Sunshine, peace and thrilling tome.

Oh, the joy of reading never dies!
Page-turning heaven in my eyes
I sip my rosé, get stuck in
And enjoy the prose; Chin! Chin!

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

Nothing Beats Old Friends

Peace and quiet today are rare
What's with this rushing everywhere?
I steal two days to chill, relax
And carpe diem to the max!

Special friends from far away
Invite themselves for a short stay
In filtered sunlight, nature stirs
We walk in beechwoods, hear the birds...

They've been to Brussels, know the score
But come to share their lives once more
Good food and chats, warm childhood bond:
We put to rights this crazy 'monde'!

How many good friends can YOU claim?
(Acquaintances are not the same!)
So a glass of rosé in the sun
With those who care – is Number One!

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

Spend, Spend, Spend?

It's «Special Offers» time again;
With holidays, there's been a drain
Upon resources, goods unsold
Look for fast turnarounds - be bold!

Soft fruits and berries top the list
Fans against the heat come next
Not to mention racks of unsold clothes
And sassy sandals with peep-toes.

If you want a new car, end-of-line
With smart accessories, it's time!
In fact for those who choose to stay
With cash to spend – time to make hay!

The heat this year is up to tricks
Memories of Seventy-Six ...
So why not buy a BBQ
Or splash out on a paddling pool?

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

Caterpillars on the Rampage!

All sorts of creepy-crawlies thrive in heat
An infiltration gardeners hate to meet
My box tree, once in pride of place, outside
Has suffered an attack, turned brown and died.

Although I water all my plants each day
Fierce sunshine this July has burnt its way
Through several fragile blooms; I am aghast
This never seemed to happen in the past.

In Belgium it's quite rare to not have rain
The grass along the tram tracks parched again
Sleeveless tops and sunhats flood the scene
Thoughts turn again to cold drinks and ice cream.

I poke my terrace pots and find more weeds
My wisteria invades; has trimming needs
More liquid fertilizer must be used ...
The result is many multi-coloured views.

Have the caterpillars gone? I must keep check
How they burrow in the soil I can't detect
But the butterflies and bees and birds have fun
So I sit and watch them busy in the sun!

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

The Red Devils Return!

This is über-sport! The result's now in
I hear France has the final win
Macron hugs the bright blue team
But Croats fought hard, tough and mean.

I'm told the match play was superb
And this high score's the final word
But the Grand-Place echoes to the cries
Of Belgians with joy in their eyes.

Red Devil-mania fills the square
The red-gold-black flag everywhere
Enthusiasm, heartfelt pride
Cheers for our great national side!

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

And in Third Place ...

The weekend blazes in full sun
With gentle sounds of bees that hum
But there's an eerie peace today
Car-less streets, hordes far away.

Full watering cans revive the flowers
Each delights in mini showers
They raise their heads in gratitude
Nature in its richest mood.

Trump struts in Scotland round golf green
While London crowds on TV screen
March in protest at his coming
His comments on Bo Jo* were «stunning»!*

Meanwhile, all eyes on football peeled
Anglais and Belges upon the field
An exercise in saving face
For the coveted third place!

Red Devils hit two in the net;
For the runners-up, one can detect
Great disappointment and despair
In Twenty-Two – will they be there?

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

Belgium: 2 England: O

* Boris Johnson for Prime Minister!

England Bows Out!

The red rose wilts, the lions crouch
St. George's flag now flutters south
With sweaty limbs, all caked with grime
Exhausted, into extra time,

The English, far from Agincourt,
Failed to beat the Croats' score
Fiercely-fought, both sides intense;
The Croats now will meet the French.

Thrills, spills and substitutes galore
The crowds in uproar, wanting more
The tension mounts – World Cup in sight
But who will win it on the night?

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

Croatia: 2 England: 1

After Half-Time!

The roads are empty – flags flap free
Most sit at home and watch TV
This match, so long-awaited, starts
Fever pitch in many hearts.

France and Belgium sweat it out
Tensions on both sides, no doubt
Half-time but still no goals are scored
Amazing! Nothing to applaud!

Two age-old enemies compete
Both want to be in driving seat
Sport titillates, makes their blood boil
Fierce battlefield - on foreign soil...

We're all on edge – the whistle blows
A lot depends on nifty toes
Two Nations now defend their honour
Who can boast a Maradona?

****

One goal by France and Blue beats Red
So the Gallic team's a step ahead
The Belgian dream goes up in smoke;
The Devils lose - but get my vote!

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

Isabella Takes Notice!

Our sweet rosebud's in full bloom:
Her presence brightens every room
She sits and smiles, all is her due
She's cuteness overload come true!

At seven months with clear blue eyes
She wins all hearts without surprise
Big brother helps her on her way
I wonder what she'll learn today?

The world's in chaos, but who cares?
Isabella's cosy world is hers
Sheltered from all sturm and drang
She's yet to learn of yin and yang.

More dazzling link-ups in her brain
So no two moments are the same
Such fun to watch her progress swift
As increasingly she gets the drift!

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

Balls in the Air!

Must I write about the Brits – again?
Meetings at Chequers in fast lane
BREXIT top man* feels the strain
And now resigns
We totter on, give power away
Background rumblings - should we stay?
Nine months to go and state of play
Still troubles minds...

We're an Island People, lost at sea
With fierce debates all flowing free
Only time tells where we'll be
When deadline comes
Greeks** tottered, but they stayed on board
Their finances right back they clawed
So was it just the mouse that roared?
They did their sums!

In another realm, the flag still flies
In World Cup terms, England survives
With all to play for – no surprise
On Russian field
The world becomes a weirder place
When football tactics now replace
Politics in the headlines race
So,  who will yield?

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

* David Davis
** 2015

Sportissimo!

TheTour de France has now begun;
Wait a minute – so has Wimbledon!
Yet the World Cup still holds fans in thrall
What is it with a big round ball?

I sit outside, admire the view
Or write my emails, as you do
And ponder on this lust for sport
A web in which I am not caught.

So may I ask with trepidation
Is this a mass hallucination?
Though Belgo-Russian flights booked out
Good news for bars and ticket tout!

Against the odds, the Belgians score
Brazil, once top dog, is no more
The Devils win: two goals to one
So Brussels' streets are overrun!

The 'thin blue line' holds back the crowd
Whose cheers are jubilant and loud
Sport unifies; like it or not:
United Belgium still on top!

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

A Mini Respite

On this bright and sunny July day
All dust shows up – to my dismay;
No hope for it, I need to sweep,
Clean windows, wash my floors and keep

An eye on all my fragile plants
Watering can't be left to chance.
The kitchen counter needs a scrub
Avanti! Elbow grease – and love.

The trouble is - my day's too short
An empty fridge? Food must be bought
Facebook posts can create angst ...
So I need to switch off, refuel tanks.

But how to stop? That is the key
With a thousand chores awaiting me ...
Exhausted, I shall rest awhile:
Hot coffee calls - Italian style.

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

Saint Nicolas is Back - or is he?

Where are my Readers? All away?
Don't blame them - it is hot today.
Bus route* through Ixelles soon restored
Workers, hot, trim hedges, bored.

Road traffic lessens, roadworks spread
No wonder those who work, see red
Their daily journeys still disturbed
By arcane détours quite absurd.

Why go abroad with flights on strike
When sun makes Brussels a delight?
Sales in full swing; tourists swarm
Around the Grand-Place in the warm.

But joy of joys, upon the roof
Of «Le Renard» house, quite aloof
St. Nick now back, all neatly painted
Can with tourists get acquainted.

Maybe the casual passers-by
Don't know appearances can lie
St. Nick now rests in his own church
While a replica stands on his perch.

The Grand'Place looks so good today
With rows of raised seats on display
For the Ommegang to strut its stuff;
Though two re-enactments are enough!

What St. Nicholas in gilded clothes
Thinks of this pageantry, who knows?
But the cafés do a roaring trade
So beers in glasses now cascade!

(c) Poet in the woods 2018

* The 71 bus



View of St. Nicolas Church, Brussels



Original Statue of St. Nicolas