poetry – Page 3

The Kitchen Sink Brigade

One of the few things my wife and I disagree on, dishwasher versus the sink, but as I’m the dishwasher ……….

Don’t mind washing dishes,
It helps me to think;
Warm soapy water,
A stainless steel sink.
To wash dishes clean
At an early age taught,
So to using a dishwasher
I just wouldn’t resort.

TPOTG Washing Dishes Frame

Don’t understand dishwashers,
First you have to stack them,
Then an hour and a half later
You have to unpack them.
Don’t see the point;
In half the time taken
Could wash a whole sink full,
If I’m not mistaken.

And that extra electricity
Have we gone completely insane?
Decided I’m going to start
A “Ban Dishwashers” campaign,
Will install myself as leader,
Of “The Kitchen Sink Brigade”,
You see, when washing dishes
Cool decisions get made!

The Wind Blew Last Week

Some of us do not take the threat of catastrophic man made climate change and the impending end of the world seriously enough, … but not me…

The wind blew last week and that was followed by rain,
So the proof was right there, so obvious, so plain
That climate change is real, how much evidence did I need?
I had to reverse it, or at least try to impede.

TPOTG End of World 01 with Frame

So I sold my car and every domestic appliance,
On anything electrical now I have no reliance,
Stopped changing my clothes and showering as well,
To save the planet I’m prepared to smell.

No more trips abroad on those big, evil aircraft,
I know some still travel, but they are just so daft,
Now if I want to go anywhere I just have to walk,
You see I take action, rather than just talking the talk.

Stopped eating any meat, well that goes without saying,
(Think of the virtue signalling I must be conveying!);
And for those that remain so hard to convince,
Well, there’s been no wind or rain, no sign of them since!

So am I carbon neutral? Well no, I’m still breathing,
CO2 gas in great quantity from my body is leaving,
So the world will just have to wait until I’m no more
To find out if the climate has stopped changing for sure.

Can My Poetry Save the World?

“Two things are infinite – the Universe and human stupidity and I’m not sure about the Universe”
Albert Einstein

TPOTG Thinking 01 with Frame

Can my poetry save the world?
Can it drag it back from the brink?
By using common sense and logic,
Encourage people to think.

Stop reality being replaced
By what they want us to believe;
The dumbing down of a generation,
Now so gullible, so naïve.

Where facts from emotions
Are no longer separated,
And with the most irrational of fears
Millions are so easily indoctrinated.

Critical thinking by rhetoric
Is now being replaced,
And those who try to reason
With so many challenges are faced,

Finding debate and discussion
Is no longer being used,
The group think must be worshipped,
Or they will be abused.

Teaching what to, not how to,
Educators being tasked,
An enquiring mind’s questions
Can no longer be asked.

So will reading my verse
Make people stop and reflect?
Refocus their minds,
Maybe make them suspect
That through relentless propaganda
It’s a new world order some seek;
Forcing their dangerous ideology
Onto the uninformed and the weak.

Priceless

Some things you just can’t put a price on….

It’s not just the plants that give me such pleasure,
Deep in my garden lies its real hidden treasure.

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I use my garden to grow my soul,
To anchor my roots, to make me whole;
To understand how good it can feel
To weed out life’s trivia, to nurture what’s real;
To connect with nature, finding peace in its earth,
So how can I value what my garden is worth?

What Would We Do If The Internet Died?

Scientists who study the sun are pretty certain that at sometime in the future there will be bursts of solar radiation so strong that they will disable all satellites, maybe for a few minutes, or hours, or days, or even longer….

What would we do if the internet died?
A burst of solar radiation, all satellites fried,
Useless mobile phones, no signals detected,
Facebook, You Tube, WhatsApp disconnected.

No bank transactions, no salaries paid,
No card facilities, no purchases made;
Selfies taken that you just couldn’t send,
It would seem like the world had come to an end.

Billions of records that no one could access;
Governments and businesses in turmoil and mess.
With digital connections being totally destroyed,
Old school techniques would need to be redeployed.

But those skills are forgotten, or have never been learned;
We’d have to think for ourselves, but that rulebook’s been burned.
By surrendering control to orbiting satcoms
We’ve exposed ourselves to ticking time bombs.

I hope I’m not around to weep and lament,
Witness the chaos and mayhem of this forecast event;
Humanity in a mess from an internet freeze,
Lost and confused in a world brought to its knees.

Fountain Pen

I haven’t used a fountain pen for longer than I care to remember, and I forgot just how nice it feels. It is slightly more inconvenient than a ballpoint pen or a pencil, but I’m sure that I can learn to live with that; until I spill the bottle of ink, that is!

I found an old fountain pen,
Alas, it had run out of ink,
But I was lucky to find a store
Selling Parker’s famous black Quink:
Now I’m writing with that pen
And it’s oh, so much better,
Resulting in an overwhelming feeling
To write someone a letter.
I can’t remember the last time
I sent anything hand written by post,
Letters are typewritten then printed,
Although I use e-mails the most;
Not forgetting about social media,
Facebook and WhatsApp now the thing,
But the satisfaction of hand writing
Electronic communication can’t bring.

Days End

There is something quite magical about sitting and just watching the sun go down….

TPOTG Days End 01

The sun starts to set,
The air slowly cools,
The fierce daytime heat
Now no longer rules.
On the stoep we have gathered
For our usual observance
Of the end of the day,
The sun’s disappearance.

The dog has been walked,
The wine has been poured,
The stoep lamps are burning,
Against insects secured;
The last of the daylight
Lingers far out to the West,
It’s awesome changing vistas,
Stirring senses from rest.

And as night supplants day
The twilight is crowned
By animals orchestrating
That African sound.
Guinea fowl roosting,
Chattering away,
Crickets endless chirping,
Owls having their say.

Haunting sounds
As the day’s put to rest,
Another Karoo wonder
By which we are blessed.
And as the stoep lamps flicker
And we watch the flames dance,
The moths come to join us
On their nightly advance.

Finally by the darkness
We’re completely surrounded,
Our mind, soul and body
Now totally grounded.
Of all of life’s crops
Surely this is the cream,
Sitting here on the stoep,
Living our dream.

Three Degrees

Life was much simpler when Three Degrees was a vocal group, not the end of the world!

They said with a three degree rise we’re all going to die,
But that’s too far in the future, so they gave two degrees a try,
But that didn’t work either, we’re continuing to thrive,
So the fear number’s been reduced to just one point five.

And we could soon be there now, not far to go,
And then we’re all doomed, the BBC has said so,
And so have Sky News and the Guardian too,
They all say carbon neutral’s the thing we must do.

But if we all keep on breathing, continue to exhale,
Then this carbon neutral thing must be destined to fail!
Could it be yet another bizarre concept, invented by greens,
That everyone talks about, but without a clue what it means?

A Leaf’s Lament

Sitting here watching the plants being battered by relentless gusts of wind, after having just endured a severe frost and wondering just what those poor leaves must be feeling.

It’s not easy being a leaf these days,
By Jack Frost I’ve been abused,
And now by a howling gale
I’m being battered and bruised.
If only I could be like a plant’s root,
Buried way beneath the ground,
Protected from the frost and wind,
A warm and peaceful haven found.
Not being bothered by the hot sun.
The outside world would not intrude,
Just need the old man to give me water,
And the occasional dose of plant food.
With a worm or two for company,
(Hopefully a mole I’d never meet),
Maybe some other roots to chat with,
As we lay spreading our feet.

Garden Refugee

There is nowhere I’d rather be………………

A person who seeks out a refuge
Is known as a refugee,
When you find me in my garden
Then throw that mantle over me.
It is my church, my special place,
A sanctuary where I find peace;
The world outside is kept at bay,
And my soul can find release.

20190513_170510 with frame

With hoe in hand or watering can,
Under cloud or the blistering sun,
Life’s petty worries are cast aside
And with nature I become as one.
My garden’s where I can truly find peace
As my plants I lovingly tend;
A safe haven that beckons me every day,
My refuge that’s become a best friend.

056 with frame

The feel of the earth as I work with my hands
Makes the spirits inside of me rise;
I can think of no place I’d rather be,
No better sight for my sore, old eyes.
How can I value these gifts I receive
As my garden keeps on giving and giving?
I’ve found my asylum, I’ve made my escape;
A garden refugee; what a life to be living!

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