Tag Archives: poetry

Conservatism?

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“Most Conservatives for most of the time have wished to keep things as they are and believe along with the Duke of Cambridge that the time for change is when it can no longer be resisted”.
(Lord Robert Blake, “The Conservative Party from Peel to Churchill” p271).

I was reminded of Blake’s highly readable work, when I came across this article by Ryan Bourne of the libertarian Cato Institute, https://capx.co/why-are-some-conservatives-so-obsessed-with-libertarians/.  Bourne’s piece also brought to mind my own poem, “Conservatism”, which is reproduced below:

Conservatism is a scepticism regarding what some call “progress”
Coupled with a desire to redress
Genuine grievances, lest the great wall
Crumble and fall
Crushing all.

Conservatism is men who
Wish the clock
Would stop
At half-past 2
But know that this man can not do.
While the reactionary believes that one can rewind the clock
And it’s hands lock
At some frozen place
In time and space.

Conservatism is scepticism about equality
For the Conservative does see
That each tree
Is different. but the forest has a heart
And we are all part
Of an organic whole
With each being possessed of his own unique soul.

Some say
That the Conservative way
Is an obsession with the bottom line
And that selfishness does Conservatism define.
Others maintain
That economics is an obsession of the Classical Liberal’s brain
And that the liberal interloper
Should slope away.

Conservatism is walks in country parks
As the larks
Twitter high above.
It is a love
Of old friends
Who are not means to ends.
It is a desire to enjoy
And not to destroy.

The ship must be kept on an even keel
Lest we into anarchy reel.
Yet some say
That today
Many Conservatives do not behave that way …

There Was A Young Lady Called Lin

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There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in my wastepaper bin.
I said, with a smile
“Will you stay there a while”,
But she left for my biscuit tin!

There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in my wastepaper bin.
Being rather witty
And extremely pretty
She led me into sin!

There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in my wastepaper bin.
When I said, “are you okay?”
She replied “I like it this way”,
That strange young lady called Lin!

There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in my wastepaper bin.
She made her escape
In a bright red cape
As its better out than in!

Writing Blind

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Earlier today, (Tuesday 26th June), I came across a fascinating podcast in which blind poets Giles L Turnbull and Dave Steele discuss sight loss, their lives and their work.

I found Turnbull’s vivid evocation of colours in the poem he read both moving and beautiful, while Steele’s composition on the subject of his hereditary eye condition, RP also touched me deeply. In the latter poem Steele hopes that his young children will avoid inheriting his RP, however, if they do so he makes it crystal clear that they will still enjoy fulfilling lives.

I lost the majority of my own vision at approximately 18-months-old as the result of a blood clot on the brain. While I can see outlines of objects, I am unable to read print nor can I recognise either family or friends (other than by the sound of their voice). Given my own visual impairment the podcast was of particular interest to me. However it will also be of interest to lovers of poetry more generally.

To listen to the podcast please visit, https://www.rnib.org.uk/community/1689/topic/47582.

The Hair Of The Dog

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We do what we shouldn’t.
I wouldn’t
Enquire
Into another’s desire
For when the wine flows
The staid
Maid
Shows …

When the day is warm
Bees to flowers swarm,
Birds sing
And the sting
Seems far away.

They say
That the hangover cure
Is the hair of the dog.
Good god
Are they sure!?

In The Churchyard Today

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In the churchyard today
Through the play
Of light and shade
I my shadow made.

When I go away
Will my shadow stay
Behind for people to see
And say
“That was he
And now midst light and shade
His shadow is forever made”.