Poem out of Madness

Truth is on the March Double-Quick

Now that we know, because we have seen it, filmed

underwater and on the telly, that fish use tools,

and that some others leap up to capture birds,

what do we make of all the old adages, homo

faber, creature that talks? Boundaries break,

so that home truths become uncanny. Truth

be damned, or some other cliché, you might say:

if news is fake, then why not science or maths?

Planets are not planets, moons not moons, the sky’s

Mysteries are more mysterious than ever, words

Absurd that try to capture them in thought.

Time perhaps to lay Galileo to rest

And send old Newton packing to an asylum,

Picking apples as they fall. Silence the dumb.

Super-powered micro-cosmology or sport

Of nature, music of the spheres—what ought

We think today that we could not ponder then?

I am of the old school, believe Attenborough

And Sagan were elected from a rotten borough.

What comes together now in rhyme, Mugabe

Gone with the wind, don’t give a damn, maybe?

Maybe not.  Gabby Hays knew best, buckaroo.

Always did, always will, one, two, buckle my shoe.

mid-November poem

Straight to the Point

I can never get stalactites and stalagmites straight in my head

Nor the difference between port and lee, let alone aft and fore,

Even in times of stress, left and right—but before

You call me an idiot, remember how long I have been dead.

There was a time in my youth when I thought the red

Light meant the cars had to stop and I could walk, the green

Signalled it was a dangerous road to cross—for

Crimson was a positive colour, verdant sad.  A screen

In the cinema did not exist: images were real.

Nor were there actors and scripts—things just were.

Back in the streets, late afternoon, all a whirr,

We rolled and fought over what was best, steel

Or cellophane for heroes to wear in battle, blur

Of colours through the sun, sparkle to blind

The enemy, transparency, invisible powers stir

To courage, protection from dreams, and thus all wind

Their way homewards after the film in the cave of hopes,

Ideas tied to our imaginary ropes.