There was a young student from Stroud
Who wrote “death be not proud”.
His teacher Matt
Said “Donne penned that!
You plagiarising young man from Stroud!”.
The Sword Of Damocles
Can the poet avoid the Sword of Damocles
Suspended above his head
By the thinnest thread?
His pleas
To those who he has offended
That he is merely speaking the truth
Will not prevent
The descent
Of sword from roof.
The poet’s curse
Is to write verse
That will
Sometimes chill
His readers to the heart.
They will traduce
Him for his art,
But the sword of truth
He must brandish high
Else he will die
Waking Early
On the cabinet, next to my bed, is a talking alarm clock with a big yellow button which, when pressed announces the time.
The Cliff Path
We walk the cliff path of Brexit
And pass
A mock-up of the empire
And Oxford’s dreaming spire.
The exit
Is down or up?
China Bans George Orwell’s “Nineteen Eighty-Four”
On reading that the Chinese government has banned George Orwell’s “Nineteen Eighty-Four” and “Animal Farm”, (https://www.standard.co.uk/news/world/china-bans-the-letter-n-and-george-orwells-animal-farm-as-president-xi-jinping-extends-grip-on-power-a3777686.html), I was reminded of Lord Acton’s remark that:
“Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are
almost always bad men,…”. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Dalberg-Acton,_1st_Baron_Acton).
The Acton quote, jostled in my mind with that famous quotation:
“Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad”, (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whom_the_gods_would_destroy).
I have visited mainland china or, to give that country it’s full title, The People’s Republic of China (PRC). While there, I found the people whom I came into contact with both friendly and helpful. I did, however feel an underlying sense of unease, a feeling which I can best describe as a sense of being observed.
Today’s China is not that of the country which suffered under the dictatorship of Mao and which is so chillingly described in Jung Chang’s “Wild Swans”, (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wild_Swans). It is, however a society which, on the on the one hand wishes to embrace the market economy while, at the same time shying away from the values of individual freedom which (at it’s best) distinguish liberal societies from authoritarian ones.
There will, no doubt be those who say what do values of individual freedom matter when, at bottom people are concerned with their own material comfort? Sitting here, writing this with no fear of the midnight knock Ion the door, I, for one know the answer to that question.
There Was A Young Man Named Power
There was a young man named Power
Who lived in a haunted tower.
The ghosts would their chains clank
Which, to be quite frank
Caused that young man to cower!
There Was A Young Lady Named Ling
There was a young lady named Ling
With whom I had a fling.
I swear its true
That I love you.
But love is such a temporary thing …
Barista Favorite: Anxiety AM/Nicholas Gagnier
We had a tie for Barista favorite for February 19th’s Promote Yourself Monday at Go Dog Go Cafe. It is our honor to publish this piece from Nicholas Gagnier of Free Verse Revolution.

Good morning, sir! If I might
have a word,
some advice?
Smile more.
Live healthy.
If you have something
to whisper, it’s probably worth
bellowing once or twice.
Spelling
makes a difference,
doesn’t it?
It’s pronounced anxiety, not
angst I-T, and it’s not
viably addressed.
Good morning, ma’am, is that
coffee on your
flowered dress?
You may want to
invest in bleach, before it seeps
into your reputation. Trust me,
I know.
Morning,
fellow citizens!
Be happy,
mathematically
positive, because waiting
for daybreak is
too obvious,
and we’re a happy
bunch of goddamned cynics.
Complacency expected, poison
at my table that passes
for family breakfast, despite
sitting by myself.
Good morning America,
whatcha so scared of?
View original post 72 more words
The Delight Of Snow
The churchyard is shrouded in snow.
Trees stand stark against the white.
I know
The delight
Of snow
There Was A Young Lady Named Sally
There was a young lady named Sally
Who lived in a narrow old alley.
When the moon shone bright
She would dance by it’s light
And sing of her childhood valley