What an interesting couple of weeks and me away, unable to celebrate the resignation of the Prince of Lies [formally the crimeminister- you know the one, he partied all through lockdown and then lied to Parliament about it]. He walked away before he could be censured and then tried to spin it like the orange one, kangaroo court in deed! More like spoilt child. If this is what a public school education gives you, I'd ask for my money back. Let's hope the tory party self destructs with all this in fighting.
I was in the north east watching the Solstice. I left the day before the Prince of Lies had his tantrum. The sunrise was glorious though the sunset was rather cloudy. Whilst up there I was watching the swallows and thinking that when I lived in Taunton the number of migrant birds reduced each year which led to this poem. 633 Squadron and The Dambusters were two Second World War films.
swallows at Lindisfarne
it must be like watching a rerun
of an old war time film
633 Squadron or The Dambusters
that part when they’ve done the daring do
and they limp back to base
except the ones that don’t make it
to take stock you need to stand still
to see exactly what we are losing by increment
As you can see my aim was to underline the crisis in the bird population with the return of aircraft from a mission. This second poem is about my camping chair at the beach hut.
I gave my chair a haircut
that old green camping one
it’s been in need of a trim for years
the nylon unthreaded like Jenny Greenteeth
all those synthetic fibres floating in the breeze
Yes I did give it a haircut. Jenny Greenteeth I always thought was an old phrase to describe duckweed but when I looked it up it is far more interesting. She is a river-hag, my apologies Ms Greenteeth, I meant you no disrespect.
Here's The Mountain Goats.
Until next time.