Poetry - August 2006

The Start Of The Season

Listen to those sounds
The crowds are roaring in the distance
You can just smell the chips and the pies
As the middle of August is upon us again
The season has started in earnest
Up and down the country there's the same chants
Of "You're supposed to be at home"
And "Worst support we've ever seen"
The whistle blows and then there's a loud crescendo
As the fans really get behind their teams
You go through every kick with all of them
And dash off just before half time to beat the queue
You munch your chicken balti pie
And see how the action's unfolding elsewhere
As you get back for the second half
You know you wouldn't be anywhere else.

(After a long summer, this is just what everyone like me waits for - the start of the football season. Okay, so cricket is good especially if England win, but it just isn't the same I'm afraid.)

Drop The Presents

When I was young
I wanted fun
Just something to play with
That I'd call my own
But then I knew
That the times were hard
And if I knew how hard
Then grateful I'd be for some
These seventies times
Were part of childhood life
And heaven knows
How other families go
I should have guessed
That I'd get ill
Do I get stuff still?
Well do I still fall ill?

(Not deliberately, but I found the lyrics fit perfectly well to the Jesus and Mary Chain's track "Drop". Check it out and sing along, if you really want. I was reminiscing about childhood and how even in hard times I'd always end up with a present but one year I felt ill instead, just one of those memories.)

Surf's Up (Well, Sort Of)

I wish I could ride that board
Tame the waves and avoid the sharks
Head off to Fistral and show them how it's done
And then appear in a famous Guinness advert
But there's one small problem that prevents me
And that is that I have no balance at all
So guaranteed when I try to even get up on the board
I'll just wave from side to side and then fall
And I'm also miles away from the sea
Carrying a board all the way is just so uncool, really
And even when I hit the water I can't even swim
So if I fall in I'm really in the lap of other people
I guess I'll stick to surfing on a computer
Riding the California Games wave to hit the perfect ten
And I've managed that live so that people could see
But if only I was really that good!

(I've always liked extreme sports, but I'd be no good at them. Here's my little number.)

Empty Coffee

She stares into her coffee
And watches the world go by
Occasionally sipping her latte
And looking out of the window
The coffee represents her feelings
It was full an hour ago as it was hot
And then like her love it's subsided
And all that she tastes now is the coolness
The lack of feeling and numbness
That comes with the words "it's over"
And yet the coffee is also a salvation
Allowing her to think and not do something stupid
So while she's in her safety zone
The coffee eventually gets empty
And the final drop represents the last knockings
Of a relationship that had run its course
But now it's time to move on
And so she leaves her cafe
And moves on.

(A sort of paradox for "running on empty".)

Second Class Post - Why?

You have to wonder
Just why such a facility exists
So that the post can be sent second class
You could take it as such an insult
Companies do it to save lots of money
Even though it takes days to be delivered
So that their final reminders arrive to you
On the day that you're disconnected from the phone
And then companies can claim they sent it all along
And the postmark proves their point
Then of course if you receive a letter
From someone that's sent that way
You could well believe it wasn't important
And that they could have rung or emailed you instead
So why don't we just get rid of the second class
Because it just doesn't seem right to me.

(Says it all.)