Poetry - 1

Zyklon B(adger) They're gassing the badgers in Devonshire, In Avon and Cornwall and Gloucestershire. It's the 'final solution' By Ministry decree. And somewhere, in an office, Sipping tepid tea, There's a Civil Service 'Eichmann' Aryanizing wildlife With British 'Zyklon B'.

Additional Information: If you are interested in the conservation and welfare of badgers and the protection of their setts and habitats then please visit The BadgerTrust.

A Bronx Tale In constant fear of the environment that they had previously loved for over fifty years, Hans (78) and Emma (76) Kabel hanged themselves in their Bronx apartment, leaving a note that read, "We don't want to live in fear anymore".
Old Hans and Emma Kabel No longer need to fear, The cry in the night, The drugged eyes so bright, The screech of the whore, The knock on their door, The junkies, the drunks, The mean tempered punks, The obscenities screamed, The nightmares they dreamed, Or the noose that they chose, Their fear to enclose, As they swing, Side by side in the night.

The Wood Engraving The stubby, blunted fingers       Sap wood smell faintly lingers, Guide the burin in a steady plough       Inherent memory of a long dead bough, Through the boxwood's virgin plane.       Where once a forest free did reign Rolls on the black and viscous ink,       And monsoon rains did freshly drink, Then white paper gently laid and pressed       There never once a single tree protest To pull a crisply new design.       When to the axe we them resign.

There's Always One She put me down with Hopkin's Accentual trochee and Dactyl rhythm. Her knowledge is superior, She knows. Her claws flash again, "Eliot was influenced by Baudelaire, Laforge And Rimbaud. Did you not know that?" Eyebrows arched, surprised. 'Silly cow!' I thought, "I'll rape her." In sprung rhythm, Of course. "Do you understand the Compressed metaphors Of Stephen Spender?" I nod sagely, my body Metaphorically pounding hers, Didactically, iambically, "Pound and Eliot are imagists", I gasp, And climax with a smile.

Sparrowhawk on the M5 Eyes in the sky on Fibrillating arms watch Lemmings pass. Run, mouse, run! M5 killer scanning Man-made banks and Thrumming culverts. Run, mouse, run! Plummeting stoop past Metalled men motoring, There and back again. Run, mouse, run! Wing'd death but touches With its shadow Blind Tiresias. Run, mouse, run! Click! Claws close in Warm flesh, sudden Red, roadside smear. Dead, mouse, dead.

Fred Phillips The frightened soul of a friend of mine Is coming your way, O Lord. Fred Phillips, of no particular fame, But I thought I ought to tell You Because they forgot to mention his name. The service was held in Bransford chapel, Where the vicar told us of Your love, Our guilt and all our shame, But he overlooked a detail, Lord, He forgot to mention Fred's name. Fred never really asked for much, He worked hard all his life and His living was a quiet refrain. I'm sure he would have liked it, Lord, If someone had mentioned his name. They all came out to see him off, His friends had not forgotten, But the man in charge of the shrivelling flame And the vicar in flowing robes forgot; Fred Phillips,             FRED PHILLIPS! Fred Phillips was his name.

The Leaf A breeze soughed soft, "Let go, let go" And with a sigh the hold was severed. Languorously turning oft To wave a sad "Hey ho", Russet dyed and dying tremor'd. A dilly-dally dalliance, Twist and twined. Soft, sliddering, glissando. Autumn coloured radiance, Hoar frost rimed, A sere leaf's rallentando.

The Uniqueness of You A single sperm in headlong dash Met, in moist fallopian dark, A single wandering egg... thus you. No planets shape this destiny, No superstitious astro-calculation. You are no marionette on puppet strings Plucked by moody and capricious gods; You are what 'ere you wish to be. You live by your free will, Not by decree divine. Any triumphs that you win And every single sin, Are positively thine.