Kerching! Kerchang! Pow! Our economy picks up! Soul still desolate.
Three hundred and sixty-five poems in all shapes and sizes, sprung from dreams and emotion. Published day after day for a year. There are haiku, sonnets, katauta, lanturnes and many other forms – including free form. The moods are as varied as the forms and often reflect my mood on the day. There is sadness and grief, joy and love.
If nothing else – these can provide a small moment in everyone’s stressful lives to stop and contemplate the world in a different way.
A white wedge Spotted in the corner Of a run-down shop Off the track Joyful memories swell And from the past I hear the clattering Of a metal bowl Filling with a quarter pound Of sherbet lemons
Whatever happened to gauges Haven’t seen one for ages It gives a feeling of age Does a good gauge Engineering solid and good Surrounded by brass or set in wood The odd jet of steam venting What were they all preventing
Dissecting darkness Silver shining score Weaving across the night Hanging, trembling, shimmering Waiting for A hapless fly To wrap up and serve As an artist’s Main course
Beacons of hope in darkness Shining from afar Reaching out to guide us But one is fitful and passing The other faithfully burns And as always Nature surpasses invention The beacon of life shines on
To glimpse a snippet Of the incomprehensible Just take a look At the white cliffs Reaching up from the sea The result Of trillions and trillions of tiny deaths Life Has been here so long It has built Landscapes
The presence of cages does not reassure Just confirms that there’s danger inside So the rules on expenses just confirms the fear That the vultures are circling once more
One Cara Pilkington-Smythe A dancer once young and lithe Left the stage behind one day Decided on a new way Married an Oxford star Together they went far He conquered financial seas She blew in like a breeze To the corridors of power A bee drawn to a flower Sipping the nectar sweet The world was at her feet They had all they desired No contingency required Beautiful homes in beautiful vales For them, their parents, easy sale Perfect schooling for their son Their family secure, every one. Parties, holidays, swelling banks Clever accountants give them thanks Hide away the tax they’d lose Living how and where they choose But then the rain started falling When the scandal came a calling The houses paid for with expenses Squirreled out from the benches Made up claims and other tricks The media brings names and sticks Now their lives are not the same Now they now live with the shame With their reputation now bereft It would seem nothing’s left Except the houses and the wealth And fine wine to toast their health And education to ensure The offspring’s path will be pure And the network of protecting hands And the ever-growing lands And the secret contemptuous laugh That may be their epitaph
Green river long Green river wide Green river deep Rolling on by Thoughts dropped in Like pebbles of time No ripples betray the loss Of a thought Carry them far To the distant sea Maybe one day A stranger will see Them on a distant shore And set them free
Made of crystal So clear It can hardly be seen The breadth of seven men The height of the clouds The top unseen Inside Sparking and crackling Impossible Bright and pure It is filled with Starfire For miles around The land knows no dark Ever The question might be asked Why it was built Were there anyone around To ask it
A dagger can be subtle Not just a sharp stabbing tool Can slowly cut away supports Until they fray with time And then it only takes A single little pluck And all comes crashing down The betrayers hand unknown
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 