Me neither Biz

Futury 'Flections.

We squandered all the oil,
going to work to toil,
bringing the kettle to boil,
poisoning top soil.

We used up all the gas,
warming up Christmas
as the ice age came to pass.
Time for one last mass.

Now most are on the dole,
or digging up the last coal,
as we witness changing poles
in our pussy cat stoles.

The now much deeper sea
caused terrible tragedy.
Millions had to flee.
Mostly Bangladeshi.

You wouldn't believe the price
of a half key of rice.
I'd rather eat mice,
which are actually quite nice.

But at least there are more horses
and our best equipped forces
have all had the courses
on their death ray torches.

We just raise them like cattle
and send them to battle.
For honour and pride
we died inside.

Space ride

Secret landing,
She was handing
Me a chance to go
Unexpected,
Undetected,
NASA didn't know.

Rocket rising,
Unsurprising
From on high I saw
No more gritty
Crowded city
Office block eyesore.

Gears and hi-fi
Were not sci-fi,
This was real sci-fact,
She worked onyx
Electronics,
Everything we lacked

Ship controller,
What a roller,
As she steered by Mars
Future vista
Sonic sister
Took me to the stars.

Like a Bowie
Or a showy
Roxy Music queen
Wore a whiter
Outfit tighter
Than I'd ever seen.

All transparent,
Legs apparent,
Stripped it off and posed,
Interstellar
Barbarella
Laid down now exposed.

Autopilot,
Sheets of violet
Where she gave a free
Introduction,
Her seduction
Opened space for me.

Hot and rocking
Bodies locking
Till love made us burst,
In these verses
Universe is
Woman with a thirst.

Left for new zones,
This world too owns
Oxygen like ours,
Gone forever,
Close together
In her planet towers.


©

I've often thought resources must run out the way they're guzzled here and your ominous poem reflects that Archiver.

Nice pun in the title BTW - 'Future Reflections'

I'm going to leave these two to the clever boys while I hide my head in the sand and indulge in cosy make-believe.

Thanks Musty.

I've been on your Space ride three times now and enjoyed every minute. What a treat!

Really enjoyed your insight into our use of resources and the various injustices in the world, with an almost ambiguous and ominous ending that it'll all come crashing down to a shuddering halt and we can't continue living like this, and putting "honour and pride" before the needs of the world.


Enjoyable poem. Really liked your use of double-meanings/metaphors.

Yup it's a boy thing.

And as for yours, just make sure you don't live too long.

Tick and Tock

Tick and tock,
Time's running out
The tank that it is my heart
Is running on empty
Not enough red fuel to go around the body.
Tis' a shame
That I've just a few hours
Before the piped vessels run dry.

Tick and tock,
The final goodbyes
I don't care though
I'm not listening to their words of sorrow
I'm not seeing their trickling tears
I'm not witnessing them crumble to bits
I don't care
I want an end to it.
All my energy is channeled
To fighting the pain
Nothing else matters
The pain becomes a part of you
But it isn't me
And I want rid

Tick and tock,
It's 12 o' clock
The pain suddenly drains
And I reach a hand to the white sky
I'm lifted away from my pains on earth
And I'm free in the sky
The red fuel may have run out
The ticker may have had it
But I feel more alive than ever
As those closest to me
Drown in their floods of tears.

He's all alone, they may say?
No - it's a new life up here.
And I'm happy and pain-free.

I'm in peace.
Tick and tock.

Thanks all I take it as a compliment that you read Space ride three times Archiver The poem's an oldie I first posted on October the 21st 2008 I changed it quite a bit, sexing up the content which maybe is a boy thing I always try to make fantasy poems very realistic - after all when I watch films like Alien I really feel as if it's happening and I'm up there with the astronauts.


I found this such an uplifting poem Allthings - a great write that altered my mood for the better when I read it

I couldn't leave you dying there without comment allthings.

I've read this several times, and it seems you've really thought this one through and it made me wonder if you've had a lot of experience of people dying.

I'd be quite happy to go like that, though without the pain please.

EDIT: Aaaah! I see I was pipped at the post and Musty posted while I was pondering.

Musty, I thought the cold was preventing you from reaching your computer.

No Biz, although it's freezing here in the woody depths of Sussex - minus 12 last night I believe It's nice to wrap up in the warm with a hot drink though

Sheer luxury.

Thank you. Really appreciate this.


I didn't really think it through that much - it's just my imagination. I haven't had any experience of people dying, funnily enough - I've just got a vivid imagination, that's all.

That's good.

The Fossil by the Sea

The fossil washed up on the shore,
Its strange appearance there I saw,
Down on the beach
I bent to reach,
Investigate and see.

I held it up then I observed
That old survivor, ridged and curved
Yet now redeemed
The relic seemed
To turn a distant key.

When brushed away, the cold wet sand
Revealed what I'd picked from the land,
My wonder grew
While seagulls flew,
Sometimes you just feel free.

Encircled patterns time inlaid
Where pretty little spirals played,
Without a sound
I almost found
The fossil spoke to me

Of endless years and long agos,
Of churning pulls of ebbs and flows
When oceans stormed,
When rock had formed,
Creation's mystery.

I watched the grey incoming tide,
What made Infinity decide
To gently steer
Then place it here
At this vicinity?

From unknown eras long that reigned
One object in my hand contained,
So bright and small,
I still recall
The fossil by the sea.


©

Really thoughtful poem and really loved the image of a "fossil", a "relic" and an "old survivor" being surrounded in a "sea" of change - a symbol of eternal life perhaps?

Memoirs of a Commentator

The 500th race,
Japanese Grand Prix,
Suzuka,
Champions have come and gone
Drivers have flashed and disappeared
The voice of racing has never wavered
Until now,
My final race.
I smile and sigh.

Time for the immortal words,
Words I never thought about
Until today
It's just another "Go, go, go"
When those five lights go out
But it's lights out on my career
"Everything extinguished", I say

It's not that I wanted to go
The job is my life
Talking to millions
Sharing my enthusiasm and passion
"Tis' a pity the others couldn't share it", I say

There's no room for old codgers
In a fast sport which needs a quick brain
There's no room for rusty hips and nails
When you need interviews and the next scoop.
They say age holds no barriers,
I'm an old man
61 is no age, they say
61 is an age, old age.
"And I ain't fit no more for this", I say.

But while I commentate on this race
I'm a young man
Brimming with adrenaline and energy
Everything flows from my mouth effortlessly
Like the rain that is trickling down the tarmac
Every moment of oversteer
Every twitch, every crash, every incident,
Sends me into excitement and euphoria.
Nothing is more euphoric than having a new champion
Rowing his canoe of a car through the flooded circuit
And across the chequered flag.
"He's done it, Michael Schumacher wins", I scream.

The screams and yells turns to lumps and tears
It's like you come crashing down
From a mighty high to an extreme low
It's finished,
40 years of service done.
I look at my BBC F1 badge,
Smile with pride
And with my commentary partner
Turn the lights off,
And leave the commentary box
For one last time.
"Thank you for all these memorable moments,
Thank you", I say to the commentary box.
Before walking off
To a life away from the commentary box.

Thanks Allthings You're right, in a way fossils are symbols of eternity. Millions of years old and indestructible to much of what's thrown at them, they're amazing traces of the past.


Another evocative write which captures the man in question so well. It's obviously about Murray Walker - when Grand Prix racing switched to ITV it just wasn't the same. For me he made the sport on television what it was, increasing the excitement tenfold. I stopped watching not long after Murray Walker's commentating ended.

Great poem, much enjoyed

Thank you. The poem was written with Murray Walker in mind, but with a few factual inaccuracies (he was 77 when he retired, not 61 and he retired at the US Grand Prix, not Japanese Grand Prix.) I liked writing the poem and I almost imagined Murray's excitement in the commentary box and him brimming with excitement like a 12-year-old. Probably one of my favourites so far.

His enthusiasm was infectious

Confessions of a Scrumper

The gods of Health & Safety
Have penned a no-go law:
There is no single safe tree
Or granite playground floor.

But here's a brief reminder
Of golden days gone by
When kids required no minder
And made their own time fly.

Yes, I ran with scrumpers
Who only nicked one fruit,
We stuffed it up our jumpers,
The juiciest of loot.

Our targets were sweet apples,
On gardens we closed in
Despite the priests in chapels
Who classed theft as a sin.

With my best mates and brother
Crime tempted at the park,
The team crept undercover
In shadows safe and dark.

From constant local browsing
We saw no daunting shield,
Just routine terraced housing
That backed on to a field.

Crawled up the fence then took out
Each tree, we rode our luck,
One catcher there, one lookout
And one to climb and pluck.

No parkie grew suspicious
Or turned up with a frown
While red and green delicious
Ill-gotten gains bombed down.

We tried, despite clothes bulging
To look a guilt-free bunch
But sometimes risked indulging
And took a hasty crunch.

No baskets and no boxes
For what made taste buds stir,
Ecstatic with our Cox's -
I think that's what they were.

I reckon most good coppers
Had bigger crooks to bag;
We walked home packed with whoppers,
Delighted with our swag.

It seemed a mighty sum too,
Due to an expert reach
The total must have come to
At least an orchard each.

Now childhood freedom blanches,
It's sad kids can't know all
The fun we gained from branches
And our vast apple haul.


©

I'm bumping up a few oldies like the poem above as I continue to sift and sort through all the old material. I'm up to 266 poems at the moment and there's still ages to go

Musty's going to write a book,

I think I'll buy and have a look,

At all the poems that he has chose

To fill it's pages full of prose.

I wonder if it costs a lot ?,

Cos if it does I'll have to trot

Back to DS and read them here,

Though on a screen's not the same I fear.

I hope your work is a great Bestseller,

As you seem to be a kindly fella

So I wish you luck and here's a toast

To pop a signed copy in the post .

Thanks BB, you're very kind I'll definitely send you a signed copy