This week we have four poems, one by A C Clements, two short ‘squibs’ by John perna, and a salutory message from Tim.
Harvest by a c clements
It was a late summer morn
The sun was shining on the golden corn
The birds were singing in the trees
Barley was dropping its ears in the summer breeze
Farmers have gathered in their crops
So we the public can be fed
Barley for beer, oats and wheat for bread
Now all the crops are gathered in
He will plough his fields again
Ready to reset them in the spring
Two squibs by John Perna
‘My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky’
It surely means so I’ve been told
A buried pot of shiny gold
Beneath one end do lie! The landlord of the Jolly Tar
Has only praise for me:
“Heroic drinker, he’s a star
And never behind,” says he.
But let there be no moaning at the bar
When I put out to sea.
Fags by Tim
(A smoker from 1954-87, 33 dangerous years) The evil weed that bursts with fire and bestows but small dizzying pleasures, a cacophony of chemicals that wheedle and scour the vital pumps of life
The end comes on frail grey wings that choke the trace ways of breath and life, producing a cyclone of suffering grief.
Email your poetry to firstname.lastname@example.org or send it to: The Editor, Bury Free Press, King’s Road, Bury St Edmunds IP33 3ET