Tag Archives: england

Shadows of the Past

My shadow in front of me.
Leaves fall from a nearby tree.
I think of an old England
I never knew.

Is all I understand
Or maybe half-see
The reality of me?

What is true
When the many/few
Call for Britain’s statues to fall,
And label me merely a reactionary?

Footprints in the Snow

As I go
I make footprints in the snow.
The red postbox continues to stand,
A symbol of a vanishing land.

Footprints will go,
Covered by snow
And this dear England of mine,
Is it all in my mind?

The Pubs Are All Closed

Girls in short clothes
Still go by.
But, the pubs are all closed
And I
Feel the unreal, steal
Over England.

One should not
Shake a hand.
But the weather is hot
And girls in short clothes
Go by.
But the pubs are closed
And I
Voice the unspoken,
“How many little communities will reopen?
And how many die?”.

The pub is part
(And sometimes the heart)
Of local society.
How much variety
Will we lose?
Its not merely booze
But birds of diverse feather
Coming together,
Through diversity in unity.

I have the park.
But thoughts dark
Come to me.
Girls in short clothes
Still go by
But the pubs are closed
And variety
Can, so easily die.

The Sun Sets

Friends discuss politics in a pub garden.
Opinions harden.
The sun sets
Over the UK
As the day
Ends, and friends
Depart, Some with regrets
In their heart,
For a day
That may
Soon be done.

I Heard A Rumour Today

I heard a rumour today
That yet another part
Of England’s heart
Is about to pass away.

Wilt
More flats be built
Where once there stood
A pub?

Shall beer and wine
Be replaced by the bottom line?
The drunkards now sing
But profit is king.

I see the open fire as I write
The coals all alight
And almost feel it’s blaze.
Shall profit’s craze
Erase all?

Let us raise a pint to the identikit
World into which we all must fit,
Where the suited and booted
Discuss the bottom line
While sipping their overpriced wine.

Of course it may not be true
In this particular case,
But England’s face
Is changing nonetheless.

My mistress’s green dress
Is frayed.
her lovers have strayed
– And the brewry’s bills must be paid

Shall I Forsake Kipling And Blake

Shall I forsake
Kipling and Blake
For a dull technocracy
Where man is no longer free?

Modernity calls.
Tradition falls
Away.
We are all the same today.

But I, like some stubborn goat
Shall build a moat
Against it all
And think on ancient hall
And a simpler time
When to rhyme
Or to speak out of turn was no crime.

One must not say such and such
For it is all too much
For youth
(And some aged too)
Who refuse to
Discuss what they believe to be true
For they hate
Debate
Which made England great.

Meanderings of a Reactionary

What can I say?
The household has lost it’s way.
The old squire sits, paralysed,
His eyes fixed on the vanishing prize
Of what could be
Where he
To begin to believe
And cease to grieve.
For what has been
May once more be seen.

Order has broken down
In the servant’s hall.
Everyone wants the butler’s crown
And King Anarchy holds thrall
Over all.

Once the household as clockwork ran.
Each man
Knew his place.
One might trace
In a face
A sense that things where unfair,
But the squire would swear
That everyone had a job
Be he labourer or nob
(but no, he will not dare
So to say
For far away,
He hears the mob bay).

(Note: in this context, the word “nob” implies a person of wealth and/or high social position).

Shorn

Does the grandfather clock’s pendulum
Still, with measured swing
A sense of order bring
To that country place
Where a mantion’s stately grace,
Brought peace,
For a while at least.

I would resile
This urban life
Of strife,
And solace take
In the birds who awake
At morn.

We are from tradition torn,
And shorn
Of a sense of the past
Wander in a vast
Whirlpool
Where the sleepless screen does rule
And institutions are thrown away
For they belong to yesterday.

Forest Glade

The forest peaceful lies
Under English skies.
The rain will come
Ere the sun
Casts it’s rays,
As in bygone days
On pools
Where schools
Of fish splash
And seeing the herron, dash
For cover
Lest he discover
Their woodland joy
And with a stab precise, their life destroy.