A Subdued Soliloquy

How eerie fog makes daytime seem

At half-past two – the street lights gleam

Less constant is the flow of cars

Unlit are many shops and bars…

 

Retail in the doldrums lies

With lockdown, hardly a surprise

High Street hoardings disappear …

Yes, this has been a dreadful year.

 

The winter chill now sets in fast

Forget all shades of “Christmas Past”

More hopeful shops can open doors

Yet “non-essential” gives us pause…

 

This festive season is subdued

With Bruxellois not in the mood;

No mulled wine chalets by the Bourse

COVID has seen to that – of course.

 

Then sans a mask, you risk a fine

No parties – meet-ups now a crime!

All doom and gloom, unless like me

You lose yourself in books and tea!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

 

Pipe Dreams

 Nip-in-the-air becomes a bite

When heating doesn’t work quite right

Pipes gurgle on the upper floors;

I wrap up warm with frosty claws!

 

With curtains drawn and cup of tea

Surely, I should “cosy” be?

We take for granted winter heat

When we enter from the street…

 

But no – my old house shows its age;

New boiler fitted - all the rage

But radiators are “old style”

And haven’t worked well for a while…

 

The pressure drops – where is the leak?

Two workmen will be back this week

To test the circuit and retrace

The cracks - so I have happy face!

(c) Poet in the woods  2020

 

 

 

On Going ON

We’re “on tenterhooks”, “on hold”, “on line”

Or “on a knife-edge”, all the time

“On computers”, “on the ‘phone”

Or “on a journey, on our own” …

 

But “on” is such a tiny word

Why write about it? It’s absurd;

We’re “on track” for vaccines new

And Biden’s “on a mission” too!

 

Climate change is “on the news”;

With fingers “on the pulse”, we choose

To watch TV and see “What’s on?”;

The internal chatter just goes “on”.

 

COVID: lives are “on the line”

So much is turning “on a dime”

While “on a roll” we’d rather be,

“Off line” seems enough for me!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

The House is Sold!

 A timid sun peeps through the trees

Bird feathers ruffle in the breeze

 A work van slows as it goes past

The terraced house is sold – at last!

 

The truck pulls up and unloads boards

Two workmen make their way towards

This bijou home in sorry state

But the facelift will be great!

 

With a friend, I’d peeped inside

The staircase made for creaky ride

With age-old beams and cracks in plaster

It needed too much looking after…

 

But its location is a dream

So its potential has been seen!

Just a stone’s throw from the wood:

Foxes, horses, Robin Hood!

 

It’s quite bucolic down our way

Where neighbours chat and canines play

A nearby field boasts bees and sheep

But sometimes - planes disturb our sleep!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Rue de la Sapinière 36, Watermael-Boitsfort

 

Neologisms Pack a Punch!

Unprecedented how we live

Our normal lives fall through the sieve

We clutch at straws and new words spawn

To help us weather this harsh storm*.

 

Our dictionaries are updated

Some catchwords can’t be overstated:

Think ‘furlough’, ‘lockdown’ and ‘staycation’

Born without an invitation.

 

We’re promised vaccines – that’s good news!

Should we try them? What’s to lose?

‘Flu jabs and/or COVID tests

Will help us safely ride the crest.

 

Asymptomatic? Who’s to know

Through whom the virus will now flow?

We isolate and live in fear

With a “Typhoid Mary” syndrome near...

 

An Irish cook, New York connected

Who 53 poor souls infected …

Such virus-carriers cause a chill;

So ‘Super Spreader’ fits the bill!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Note: the 4 underlined words are now added to the O.E.D.  (Oxford  English Dictionary).

* The COVID epidemic

Mary Mallon 1869-1938

Behind the Scenes

The year drags on as best it can;

For Christmas no one has a plan

With social distancing in place

Santa cannot show his face…

 

In this grown-up world gone mad

It’s for children I feel sad

As toys entice in bright-lit stores

But hidden hands have locked the doors …

 

We live perhaps in some weird dream

As more restrictions come on stream;

Consider - just one year ago

Who would have thought our lives would slow?

 

We took for granted airline travel

Now our trips and jaunts unravel

Theatres, concerts, sport and gyms

All lie frustrated in the wings!

 

The world’s a stage? I hate this play

The first two acts cause great dismay

We’ve lost the plot and cannot follow

And how will it all end - tomorrow?

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

A Meditation in Place Keym

The square is silent; scudding leaves

Swirl unchecked in chilly breeze

Tall stacks of chairs, all chained up neat

And only my steps in the street…

 

The Mall sports barren shops for rent

My optimism sinks, Hell-bent …

Then the Carrefour comes in view

Where shoppers congregate anew!

 

But non-essential retail suffers

Pre-Christmas sales have hit the buffers!

Pall of sadness in the air

Dark days with winter solstice near…

 

Police cars kerb-crawl, quick to fine

Those not wearing masks – a crime!

In trams and buses – empty seats

Eerie journeys – no one speaks …

 

With Halloween as good as dead

Saint Nicholas has wary tread

Toy Story, much loved, loses hope;

Our lives, in every sense – remote …

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

View of Place Keym, Watermael-Boitsfort

 

Figuring It Out!

 Statistics fuel so many things

Havoc, fear or deep mood-swings

"Games" played with figures can present

An outcome other than that meant!

 

Arcane averages are wild:

Whose family has a ‘point five’ child?

Algorithms do their best

Computer programmes blur the rest!

 

Success rates? Better check your source:

Fuzzy stats - par for the course

Some figures, rounded-up for years,

Make unsubstantial claims for cures.

Do check the small print – always wise

You may be in for a surprise…

Percentage points on samples small

Have no validity at all!

 

Right up to date - the U.S. polls:

Is this vote count full of holes?

Politics means tricks up sleeve

So, whom and what should we believe?

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

 

My November Man

 Sixteenth November … sixteen years!

Since he passed on and I shed tears

Time flutters by – deep sadness steals;

I play again my memory reels…

 

This, now ‘heavenly’, birth date

Recalls my much loved, much missed, mate

Who made my humble heart complete,

As each day I had happy feet!

 

Now down life’s corridors I roam

The only echoing – my own

Bold avenues I still explore

But differently, as he’s no more …

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Mike 16.11.1937 - 04.01.2005

 

 

 

Focaccia Fun!

My weekly purchases are stored

Untried recipes explored;

Why not make something good with yeast

Watch it rise and have a feast?

What thrills! My first focaccia bread!

Rosemary tufts and garlic, spread

With olive oil to make it glow:

A taste of Italy in dough!

 

Today, my tastebuds bide their time 

Awaiting pleasures quite divine

Inventing brand-new things to do

Means lock-down has “plus moments” too!

 

Of course, without a friend to share

This creation, warm and rare

I shall sit here and enjoy

The full extent of my employ!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

A Time of Transition

 It seems Democracy has won

No fraud, no jumping of the gun

The votes are counted, fair and square

The people’s voice is heard - so there!

 

There will be some Discontents

And those who sit upon the fence

Uncertain now which way to go;

This poker game has dice to throw!

 

To test the waters, Joe stands by

World leaders call him to say “Hi!”

For COVID, there’s a vaccine race

Mask-wearing will be commonplace.

 

Who rules the Senate will be key;

Obama found it hard to see

How his measures could go through

With a majority not blue.

 

This mammoth task Joe Biden faces

When he and Donald do change places

But the Virus that is politics

Will not make this an easy fix!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Concedo Nulli!

History’s parallels are intriguing

In terms of politics – revealing;

Let’s cast our minds back long ago

When Renaissance printing caused a flow

Of grammar books and classic law

Helping educate the poor

But when unleashed, the printed word

The minds of those in power disturbed.

 

Religious tracts, revised translations

Caused schisms and divided Nations!

Their consequences put in play

Dilemmas which exist today.

 

Erasmus, Prince of Humanists,

Dutch priest and thinker in the midst

Of this turmoil and confusion

Friend of kings, but sans illusion

 

Advised and warned, did not take sides

"Whose name", said Colet, "never dies"*;

Known for his motto, much admired;

 “I yield to no one” has inspired

 

Perhaps the Oval Office man*

Whose tweets proclaim that he still can

Stave off the overwhelming tide

And hold on tight for a new ride!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Concedo Nulli  -"I yield to no one"

Erasmus of Rotterdam  c 1467-1536

John Colet  Churchman 1467-1519

*D.T.

* Nomen Erasmi numquam peribit.

New Lock-down - Week Two

 What shall I write? A daily task

Strange thing to do, you may well ask;

We flounder in pandemic times

Where ‘going viral’ means more rhymes!

 

Inspiration is a funny thing;

How to predict what thoughts will spring

From deep within each troubled mind?

Lost memories come back on line…

 

Corruption charges in high spheres?

CNN and Fox News scares?

My battered Muse has lost its spark

So many of us kept apart …

 

Yet our creative streak awakes

We sew, design, knit or bake cakes;

Let’s email those from long ago;

‘Zoom’ and ’Skype’ make friendship flow!

 

So much we treasure put on hold

While mounds of toys remain unsold;

Restrictions force us to take stock

While stocks of vaccine - dreams unlock…

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

 

 

Biden His Time...

It’s been a rough road, long and hard

For America has been ill-starred

Mass turn-out on November day

Huge line-ups – each wants his own say.

 

The tension mounts, the Blue Wall builds

The central Red Belt quickly fills

No landslide as predicted, yet

Several States run neck-and-neck...

 

The tweets continue; calls for calm;

Both Trump and Biden chance their arm

But it is still too close to call

All up for grabs!  We’re held in thrall…

 

There’s need for healing in this Nation

Sadly split, through provocation;

Europe watches in the wings

While someone practises golf swings!

 

Then Pennsylvania State declares

The Democrats learn it is theirs

Crowds fill the streets in Delaware

Joyful cries rend though the air!

 

A wind of change we now detect;

Joe Biden – President-Elect

Makes his first speech to the Nation:

The word is - reconciliation …

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

 

 

A Clean Sweep?

It’s hard work sweeping up wet leaves

But here I am, out in the sun

Wrapped up warm with rolled-up sleeves

Trying to get this job done!

 

In COVID times, despite lock-down

It’s vital to take exercise …

With leaves all piled up in a mound

A sense of order greets my eyes.

 

The days draw in, it’s dark too soon

With heating on and curtains drawn

We read, watch TV or just moon

While more leaves drop upon the lawn!

 

The household chores do not relent

I sort out clothes and iron sheets

In such dull ways my day is spent

When not engaged in rhyming feats!

 

Vote-counting drags on – scores are close

Europe, on the side-lines, waits

Will we get a “double dose”?

And what will be the new dictates?

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

 

Swing States - in the Balance

 Shall we look into a crystal ball

Or flip a coin to guess the score?

The fifty States play hard to guess

Some red, some blue, some in distress …

 

Are exit polls wide of the mark?

Statistics paint a picture stark

But all predictions have a flaw

270 the magic score…

 

Election speeches, hope in check,

The outcome still unknown and yet

Newscasters round the world debate,

Will postal votes be a tie-break?

 

En masse, new voters join the line

Determined to be heard this time

Their voices raised in indignation;

Who will lead this complex Nation?

 

Time zones vast; perforce delay

Sharp focus on “swing States” today

To keep momentum, stats are flowing

But as to who will win – no knowing…

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

America Goes to the Polls!

 All eyes across The Pond today

Uneasy lull as people pray

For an outcome that is just:

Who will surmount the media fuss?

 

Last minute frenzy over polls

For someone out there, the bell tolls

The Nation totters on the brink

 Uncommitted voters have last think…

 

To avoid close contact, postal votes

Have made a comeback, like bank notes;

Counting them will take some time

This fight will go up to the line!

 

Obama’s “Yes, we can!” recalled;

With this clear message – how he scored!

Now COVID clouds the campaign trails

And substance has gone off the rails…

 

We’ll know the outcome soon enough

Although the going will be tough

But who will lose, concede defeat?

For now, we hang on edge of seat!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

 

Musing on the Doorstep

The wind gets up, the leaves spin fast

Cascading downwards as I pass

Then swept away with heavy brush,

But still they swirl round in a rush.

 

I give it up - let Nature win …

Now quite resigned as days draw in

To venture out, all wrapped up warm

When ten o’clock sky looks like dawn!

 

Toadstools sprout along the lane

Thanks to warming autumn rain

But ‘trick or treat’ did not appear

Halloween – a sad affair…

 

COVID ruins simple pleasures

With its, ever stricter, measures

If this November things look bleak

Of Christmas, folks, let us not speak!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Taking Time Out

The Belgian flag flaps at half-mast

People in small groups go past

With pots of flowers in cellophane

Bedraggled-looking in the rain.

 

On this of all days, graves look bright

Chrysanthemums a cheery sight

A few police stand idly by

Beneath November’s leaden sky.

 

My husband’s ashes are long gone;

Now scattered roses, all forlorn,

Bedeck the grass with spirits new

So many have lost loved ones too.

 

I meditate how life is short

How happiness is dearly bought

How love brings joy into our lives

And burns within when someone dies…

 

How each one’s life has many turns

Why we say: “Happy returns!”

On birthdays to our near and dear

Until one day they are not here …

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Boitsfort Cemetery