Category Archives: uncategorised

Not His Destination

This morning I took a train from Thornton Heath station to London Victoria. Due to me being visually impaired, a member of station staff assisted me to board the train. However, before he could disembark, off went the locomotive with the railway company employee on board, and none to happy at having been conveyed, without his consent from Thornton Heath to the next station stop, Norbury!

—

A man
With a plan
To help me board a train.
Oh what a pain
For the doors closed
And there arose
From his lips a bad word,
The kind heard
On the docks.
The commuters where shocked
And the man from the station
Reached a destination
Not wished for.
No wonder he swore!

Evening Walk

Breathing in the fresh evening air
I wander along
Conscious of birdsong.
The birds sing without a care
And soon I will be there
With her.

I dare
Say there
Will be a conversation
Over our meal.
What do I feel?
Anticipation
At the thought of what I know will come?

The birds Continue to trill.
The evening will
Run
Away in laughter
And drink.
I think
On The dull thrill
Of what comes after
A passing triumph, lost in a disaster.

Of Butterflies and Men

Once butterflies
Would excite
And delight
The boy.
His heart would overflow with joy
At the sight of his new toy.

The boy’s passion grew.
He thought it true
That butterflies would stay.
To him they did flit
For a moment on a flower sit
Then pass away.

He came to disdaine
Butterflies for they caused him pain
Yet the boy knew well
He was under their spell
And could not refrain
From sorrow and pain.

Listening to the rain
Running down the drain
He thought on how life passes us by.
With the butterfly
We dally
Then die.

Poems and Flowers

I gazed upon a flower, a thing of beauty.
A scientist said, “It is my duty
To explain it’s purpose,
Let us look beneath The petals surface”.

I watched how the light did slant
Throwing dancing beams upon the plant.
But the scientist ranted
About the structure of that flower, so lovingly planted.

Is not a poem a thing of beauty?
Yet the critic sees it as his duty
To deconstruct every line.
Oh what happened to the poet’s verse divine?!

Why spend hours
Analysing poems and flowers
When we can revel in beauty
Forgetting “duty”?

They Dance on the Edge of a Ledge

The audience watches askance
As they dance
On the edge
Of a ledge.

Feet moving faster.
The music and laughter.
What follows after
Cool reflection or disaster?

She stoops but who conquers?
The situation bonkers.
A man old enough to be her father.
They would rather
Not think
On those who wink
And titter.

A bitter taste
Is a man’s disgrace
Yet still men dally
With silk and lace.

Deception

Many skirt
The issue.
The time is short
And dearly bought.
A tissue
Of lies
And midnight sighs.

A girl growing up forsook
The straight path and took
A step down a perilous track.
One may turn back
But many lack
The will.

In the still
Of night
Delight
For one.
A soul is gone
And time rolls on.

Greying hairs.
She swears
All is not lost
And counts the cost
Of fixed smiles
And denials
No longer believed
By those she deceives.

Nightmare

Nightmare.
Terrors buried deep
Creep
Out and stare
Me full in the face.
There is no hiding place
When the black mare
Stirs
From the stable.
Her coat sable
As night.
Banishes delight.

Awaking.
Shaking
Off fear
Yet nightmare crouches near.
In the shadows she hides
And bides
Her time waiting for sleep
Then out she doth creep.
I turn and run
But my dark mistress must have her fun.
When day is done
She will come.

People caught reading on London Underground to be fined £5 as from 1 April

Yesterday evening I met a friend who works for Transport for London. After a few pints he confided in me that London Underground will be introducing fines for those found to be reading books on the tube. According to my friend who, for obvious reasons wishes to remain anonymous, there have been many accidents caused by commuters so absorbed in their reading matter they have failed to notice the person closest to them and poked them in the eye with a book, newspaper or magazine. There is also, he says an issue with people missing their stop due to being engrossed in a good (or bad) book (good and bad are, after all subjective terms).
Consequently as from today (April 1st)anyone caught reading on the tube will be subject to an on the spot fine of £5 (if paid by cash rather than card this will be reduced to £4.50). My friend believes that this will enhance the customer experience of those traveling on London Underground. Rather than taking refuge in a book or paper commuters may, actually talk to their fellow passengers! The idea does, he says have the added advantage of creating employment as a significant number of “Book Banners” will be required to enforce the policy.
What do you, my readers think of the idea? Will it work? Is it a good one? How would you feel where you to be subjected to a fine of £5 for reading on the tube?

Kevin

An Owl Hunting

You visit in the early morn.
Your note chill
Sends a thrill
Through man and mouse.

The house
Is quiet.
Only your cry forlorn
Does warn.
Disquiet
Carrying from the Lawns.

A mere bird
Yet your voice heard
Down the long years
Inspires fears
And seers
Grey
Fortell a dismal day.

—

The Lawns is an historic park situated close to my home in Upper Norwood, (http://www.londongardensonline.org.uk/gardens-online-record.asp?ID=CRO040).-