Dawn Thoughts

Up early on this New Year’s Day;

Dark outside where street lights play

Their eerie patterns in the street

A silent view, no passing feet…

 

Europe wakes to a new dawn

Where, for Brits, red tape will spawn

More hassles, ire and deep regret

In many ways a backward step…

 

With all cooped up in their abode

Fewer deaths upon the road

While Fear, alas, still stalks abroad

And, dare I say it, we are bored!

 

 New Year betokens virgin slate;

What happenings will syncopate

Our COVID lives? A little jab

May be the best hope we now have!

(c) Poet in the woods 2021

The Book of BREXIT!

 2000 pages? What a screed!

The BREXIT terms – a sleepless read

The UK’s future is at stake

Let’s hope the Queen can keep awake!

 

Countless taut, committee stages

For this tome of tight-knit pages:

Late-night sessions, midnight oil

Sturm and drang on British soil!

 

Up to the line, with knuckles white

Fishy clauses – watertight?

‘Westmonster’ keeps momentum going

As to the outcome, Folks – no knowing …

 

As Theresa May resigned her post

Bold Boris now surveys the coast 

Where the good ship BREXIT will set sail

But will it flounder in a gale?

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Post-Christmas Blues

Are you back at work, or work from home?

Or gnawing on a lonely bone?

We’re on the crest of a huge wave

Whose impact, when it comes, will save …

 

I stare out on a sky pale blue

Through bare branches – a clear view

A brand-new diary waits close by

As empty as this wintry sky…

 

Uncertainty is humans’ lot

A concept we had quite forgot

Recalled to mind in stark relief:

2020 - source of heartfelt grief.

 

At such times the bard is prone

To hesitate, leave well alone;

What words on souls can pour warm balm?

What treasures lie in winter barn?

 

Too close to see what lies ahead

With COVID storm still overhead

No lull, no let-up, constant fear;

How will things pan out next year?

 

Think of others, do our best …

We shall somehow ride this crest;

The future is not ours to call

Damn! Who  pinched the crystal ball?

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

End-of-Year Review

In this wishy-washy time between

What is to come, and what has been

We let our hearts and minds look back

On how this year has gone off track.

 

A virus leak from Chinese lab

In “other news”, did not seem bad;

As feared Ebola had not spread

And each slept safely in their bed.

 

This time, the leak became a flood

What seemed at first a poisoned bud

Blossomed into worldwide threat

Ensnaring all lands in its net.

 

The travel industry declined

Culture in all forms was stymied

Health professionals bore the strain

A sort of Black Death once again.

 

Man likes to think that he’s evolved

And all such problems have been solved

But COVID puts him in his place;

How fragile is the human race!

 

Nostradamus was at pains

To foretell in brief quatrains

Pandemics that lay far ahead

But who believed his sharp street cred?

 

The rich and famous weren’t immune

Many sportsmen gone too soon

World leaders mask-less, caught the bug;

So, now we must beware a hug!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Nostradamus:  French philosopher & physician: 1503-1566

 

In-Box-ing Day

A bomb in Nashville, Tennessee!

Is this how Christmas has to be?

Nature reaches sell-by date:

For some rare species, it’s too late…

 

Winter floods in Bedfordshire;

Why is all our news so dire?

Just titbits gleaned from online news

On the day we should enthuse …

 

Caught in this maelstrom of dismay

With friends and family kept at bay

The human spirit keeps in touch

Those screen connections mean so much!

 

Surprising phone calls fill our day

More warm thoughts the I.T. way

A virtual Christmas - if you will

But each gap bridged is such a thrill!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Downtown Nashville, Tennessee - December 25th

A Christmas Meditation

So much has changed in this past year;

Who overflows with Christmas cheer?

The virus has a hidden face

Chimeras we begin to chase …

 

In such grim times the poet’s role

Serves to brighten each lost soul

With words of comfort and delight

A tricky task to get it right …

 

Against a backcloth worn and tired

How can the poet be inspired?

Too many loose ends to be tied

The Web, alas, has spread too wide…

 

Yet the yearly miracle begins:

The Christ Child, Star and Angel Wings;

While humble shepherds, tending flocks

Gaze in the sky; the old world stops.

 

Recalled by artists down the ages

Traditions form in gentle stages

This midwinter celebration

Still remains a meditation...

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

 

The Little Man in Black!

Australia - a laid-back scene

Outdoor life laced with sun cream!

Cool dude in black, the way to go

Or are those shades just worn for show?

 

December blue skies, shortest nights

Outdoor picnics, beach delights

Easy-care, not city chic

An untucked T-shirt does the trick!

 

Cold Europe goes for glam and smart

And festive cocktails after dark

While for Thomas, Christmas means

Casual gear - just shorts or jeans!

 

His simple ‘uniform’ makes sense;

As does the setting - rustic fence

Already knowing, in his stare

It’s who you are, not what you wear.

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

 

 

Stocking Up!

Forget all thought of Christmas travel!

For Tier-4 Brits, their plans unravel

Most at home obliged to stay;

Dame Virus takes no holiday!

 

It’s tough; we grumble, face huge fines

In more ways than one – bleak times …

Mutating COVID won’t relent

So, Channel crossings blocked in Kent!

 

Belgium, Denmark, France and Spain

All repeat a grim refrain:

“You’re not welcome!”; we’re aghast

This blanket ban extends so fast…

 

As for BREXIT babble, it annoys;

Taxes on incoming toys?

We’re living in a real-life soap;

With daily dramas, how to cope?

 

A casual glance at TV news:

Both sides of the Channel – queues!

In brief, a bureaucratic maze:

So, will stocks last these Christmas days?

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Isabella - at Three!

 There’s no hope for a quick release

I can’t fly South to hug my niece

Who celebrates three years today!

As COVID means no Aussie stay…

 

But through the months I’ve watched her grow

So many arrows to her bow

 As Isabella shares my sign

And Archers aim high every time!

 

You like to dress up, face the lens

Chatter with your little friends

Bathe in limelight, unafraid

The world’s your oyster, little maid!

 

Growing up means learning, sharing,

Thinking for yourself and caring

Both Grannies and your Mum agree

Enthusiasm is the key.

 

You’re bubbly, like the best champagne;

Dad says you know your mind – and reign!

Attention-seeking? (Yes, a bit)

Oz has talent - you’re a hit!

 

At three, Sweet Lass, your world expands

My Blog is read in many lands

Auntie hugs you from afar

Happy birthday! You’re a star!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

What Rings True?

 It’s quiet and peaceful in my home

My Muse and me, we’re quite alone

No one breaks my concentration;

I lose myself in contemplation …

 

Images swirl round my brain;

I look outside - see spots of rain

At times a car grinds up the hill

But apart from joggers, all is still.

 

Saturday, these hours are mine;

I marshal odd thoughts for a rhyme

But the dratted words won’t click in place

Like music, poems must have pace …

 

Lost in a daydream – miles away

What words will form this new display?

How to make the mundane feel

Just for a moment, poignant, real?

 

I cast around; no theme rings true;

Then the phone rings!  I come to …

A nuisance call! I might have known

No poet can stay long alone!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

A Mystery Card

 At Christmas, festive cards arrive,

As friends and family contrive

To pen a year’s events in brief

Explaining joys – and sometimes grief.

 

Though thrilled of course to get such news

Brief signatures sometimes confuse

No surname, no return address

Or squiggly scrawl; how can I guess

 

Who has penned this Yuletide note,

And made an effort to devote

Time, card and stamp to get in touch?

To respond - at straws I clutch …

 

Neat label typed on envelope

To find the sender – a vain hope

I’m flattered someone thinks of me

But can’t work out who it can be …

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

 

A Game Changer?

 I marvel how morale stays high

When death rates peak; can we stand by

And still plan meet-ups with our friends?

Insouciance breeds fatal trends!

 

High peaks, low troughs - the COVID graph

Has cut our jollity in half

Why Christmas shop, when many stay

At home – all visits kept at bay?

 

Law-abiding citizen, the Kraut?

Despair of Merkel; a new bout

Of lock-down (schnell gemacht!) in place

The German image – a red face!

 

“Over by Christmas?”  Sad refrain …

War on COVID in fast lane

With shoals of vaccines shipped worldwide;

Now new strains threaten – Woe betide …

 

All in finesse, this ‘game of chess’;

Who will win, not ours to guess;

While COVID plans new moves, we scheme;

Tempest-tossed in this bad dream …

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

 

In the Twilight Zone

We struggle hard to keep in touch

Friends are precious, they mean much

Most are lonely, on a limb

Their threads of social life worn thin.

 

This pall of COVID casts deep gloom;

Obliged to dance to a new tune

We yearn to run out, fling arms wide

And welcome friends to meet inside …

 

But No!  Drones check our every move!

We’re punished if we leave our groove

Though Christmas lights these winter nights

Try to put the world to rights.

 

With downtown bars and pubs all closed

No respite for onlookers’ toes

And should we decorate our home?

What’s the point when we’re alone?

 

Sound bite shockers: what is real?

Vaccines? Biden? BREXIT deal?

BBC and CNN

Stir the pot – no one is zen!

(c) Poet in the Woods 2020

 

 

Taking Our Leave

Our ‘Sceptred Isle’ at end-of-tether

Brit life on the never-never

Mad scramble to tie up loose ends

Constant talk of fishy trends!

 

How to survive without free trade?

Long queues in Kent with tempers frayed

Reels of red tape at the Coast

With a “No Deal” folks, we’re toast!

 

Ahead,  a bureaucratic maze

As UK-sourced goods risk delays

Uncertainties in all fields trending;

The ins and outs are never ending…

 

Last ditch attempts, up to the wire;

The E.U. stands firm, does not tire

Of warning what we stand to lose

By Jan 1^st we should have some clues!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

'Sceptred Isle' speech by John of Gaunt in Shakespeare's "Richard II".

On Opening a Christmas Card

How wonderful when people write!

Holding Christmas cards feels right;

This virtual world where no one meets

Save via a screen or silly tweets

 

Means missing out what matters most:

Seeing friends or playing host.

We fill our fridges, wine and dine

But stare at walls most of the time…

 

Mental issues now beset

Many who cannot connect

With loved ones, family or workmates;

As months slip by – fear escalates.

 

With social distancing enforced

Most from friends are now ‘divorced’!

The gaudy shopfronts are no lure;

For loneliness, there’s just one cure …

 

We humans are a social bunch

Keen to share news over lunch

Or meet in pubs and have a beer;

Where is the bonhomie this year?

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Brussels - Out of Plaice?

 Fish on the menu? What a catch!

But will wine and dining match?

A last-ditch meal behind closed doors

Taut discussions, fraught with flaws.

 

Important “Heads”* not on a roll;

For whom indeed will the bells toll?

I talk in riddles, (tap on wrist?)

But you are smart, you get the gist!

 

London-Brussels – Eurostar

To keep on track, they raise the bar;

We poets wield such tools with ease …

O Metaphor! How you do tease!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

*Last minute European Council Meeting in Brussels to discuss the EU Budget.

We are still on a Journey!

We can travel many different ways;

Our memory of each journey stays

Within our hearts when stuck at home

Locked down this winter and alone.

 

Viz: mini-trips to sunny climes,

Weekends with friends in better times

Those magic places that we’ve seen

Recalled in photos, help us dream…

 

Our travel “bug” this year defeated

Hence our coffers not depleted!

Foreign rendezvous curtailed

Business meetings all derailed…

 

It’s time indeed to sit and think:

What has brought us to this brink?

Less air pollution, CO2

Flights reduced - more skies of blue!

 

The Tourist Sector limps, ill-starred

As COVID plays each trump-filled card;

Good Health is on my New Year’s list

2020, soon gone, won’t be missed!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Splashing Out!

How dull is life without a splash!

Perched on the edge, they cut a dash:

Thomas, with his Monster Green

And Isabella, pale pink queen.

 

The Pool is vast, the scene is set

In just a moment, they’ll get wet

As each dives into noisy swell

Unafraid; they both swim well.

 

But why indoors, when Aussie sun

Beckons now to everyone?

The thing is, harsh rays burn pale skin

Hence the Pool’s the place to swim!

 

December in S.A. is hot

And danger lurks for tiny tot

So, here our water-nymphs are sent

To frolic to their hearts’ content!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

A Christmas Box!

 I wonder where we all would be

Without a noble Christmas Tree?

In Brussels real firs are on sale

With spiky fronds and needle trail.

 

We swathe the boughs in tinsel streams

Each festive ornament now gleams

Reflected in electric light

Days ahead of Christmas night…

 

Excitement mounts, the thrill now lies

Anticipating children’s eyes

Mad rush for gifts, both big and small

Which congregate in coloured sprawl.

 

In Ozzie heat, fir trees are scarce

So out of one long box comes first

Fake branches and a sturdy base

Soon reconstructed, put in place.

 

Isabella joins with Dad

In no time their tree is clad

Thomas also lends a hand;

 With Mummy’s snap, it's in the can!

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

Titillation - of a Sort

 Like “Old Mother Hubbard”, my cupboard is bare

I trawl through the news for something to share:

New victim of COVID at age 94

Valéry Giscard d’Estaing is no more…

 

The lock-down drags on, making people annoyed

Retailers moan, livelihoods are destroyed

The buzz in the High Street reduced to a hum

Despite Christmas opening, not too many come.

 

Pairs of policemen on bikes cycle past

Eager to catch those not wearing a mask

The mood is morose, friends still kept apart

But “bubbles” break open again after dark…

 

End-of-year parties, though strictly forbidden

Flourish regardless in places well hidden

But one bit of naughtiness has made the news:

A raid has unearthed a Brussels “partouze!”*.

(c) Poet in the woods 2020

* wild party or orgy!

Valéry Giscard D'Estaing:  2nd Feb, 1926 - 2nd Dec, 2020