Well, knock me right down with a feather
It’s true that some faith in whatever
And holding one’s nerve under fire
Can result in the things we require
Being sent to us served on a plate
By God, chance or synchronous fate
So, cross fingers or whisper a prayer
Take small practical steps up the stair
Fret ye not and have hope for the best
And watch time take good care of the rest
Who can say what the future will bring
When we wait for fat ladies to sing
by Gail
*
Winter is coming, there’s frost on the ground
It’s hard being homeless when you’re a hound
Cold tongues and noses, wet coats and feet
Are par for the course for a dog on the street
Furry surfers of sofas and seekers of sheds
Who dream of warm fires and comfortable beds
Who can’t go to the Council or bid for a flat
Who have to rely on a human for that
All that waiting outside; all that watching of doors
All that catching a wink on unsuitable floors
Living a life dodging different dangers
Living on luck and the kindness of strangers
It’s a dog’s life alright, and for humans as hard
It’s no good in the hood when you ain’t got a yard
But there’s rumours afoot in the Chippenham air
Re: temporary housing and bed space to spare
Tales are wagging and shaggy dogs telling
The news that they sense on the air they are smelling
They go down to Doorway and find out it’s true
“Hey doggies, we’ve got comfy kennels for you!”
One has a sniff and the other a lick
And one gives the new pop up kennels some stick
One crawls inside and another freaks out
“What on earth,” say the dogs, “is the tent thing about?
It’s hard to assimilate cultural change
The kennels, let’s face it, are awfully strange
But the humans look happy and that’s pretty neat
Always a good thing to keep humans sweet
And it’s really quite nice of them, thinking of us
Best use the things so they don’t make a fuss
Just crawl in and smile “Hey, this is quite cool!”
“Speak for yourself, mate, I feel like a tool”
“But it’s warmer in here, so maybe chill out?”
“Less of the ‘chill’, it’s the heat I’m about”
So went the debate, it was fairly immense
Till all dogs agreed that some stuff was intense
That the kennels were handy and kept out the cold
And that humans are weird and like, comedy gold
They were really quite glad that the kennels had popped up
That their core body temperatures had been topped up
And that folk gave them snacks and stuff for their dinner
Yep, the whole kennel thing was an actual winner
But lunchtime passed quickly and soon it was gone
It was time for the dogs to pack up and crack on
With doggy bags sorted they left with their folk
And went hunting for dog ends to roll up and smoke
Oh, housing’s a nightmare and tricky to handle
A difficult issue, an absolute scandal
But on Mondays and Thursdays the doggies can glamp
Pop up to the drop in and hang out and camp…
…
In between times the Doorway staff find with a frown
That what can pop up does not always pop down
The kennels are springy and just won’t play ball
And no-one can pack up the bu**ers at all
Goodness knows where they can stash ‘em or stick ‘em
Not one of them knows how to fold up and lick ‘em
It’s like playing Twister, such weird convolutions
Like trying to find flippin’ housing solutions
*
by Gail
*
Cold and careful hands
Dismantle love’s elements
Methodically
…
The eye detecting
Fragile fractured copper threads
Dispassionately
…
Concentrating fire
Melting metal, soldered wire
Mending circuitry
…
Testing, one, two, three
The current, interrupted
Now set flowing free
…
How beautifully
Cool flux and hot flame restore
Conductivity
…
Love’s analogy
Motorcycle maintenance
Electricity
*
by Gail
Late for the Nativity
I stand among the throng
Self-consciously
Singing with the angels
Quietly
Sensing the future
Yearning out
In front of me
Revealed
Symbolically
How it will
Always be
Odd one out
For all to see
…
The only angel
Without wings
*
by Gail
For Helen
*
Who’s in the dog house? Someone has been flakey
The someone who lost the unfortunate Jakey
Thank heavens for girls and the Book of the Face
And the people of town who live down Mayenne Place
For needles in haystacks are easy to spot
Compared to the dog who was there, and was not
The tale of his loss was inherently spurious
The dog in the night time; an incident curious
They shouted, they whistled, they got out their torches
They searched the canal and the shadows in porches
Where was the Jakey dog? No one could tell
Till somebody heard a desperate yell
“He’s here,” someone said, “he’s been here all night”
Oh dear, someone will be in the dog house tonight…
Result; one happy girl and a tail wagging hound
And ‘The dog who was lost’ now ‘The dog who was found’
*
by Gail
*
They never went to war; they stayed at home
The young, the old, the unwell and the dead
The women who were not allowed to roam
The men who tilled the fields and baked the bread
Those sat in darkness waiting for the rap
Of letterbox, and soft white feather fall
The silence broken by a dripping tap
Dark shadows cast by street lamps on the wall
The little lads who ran behind the train
That took their fathers off to certain death
Who waved until their arms ached in the rain
Who ran until their lungs ran out of breath
Old men who yearned for youth; just one more chance
To feel the blood flow, hear the battle cry
To wear the uniform and take a stance
To stand with other men, to fight and die
The crippled and the mad, the deaf, the blind
Escaped the fate of many thousand men
Some angry that they had been left behind
Some thankful that they’d never fight again
Women, who with their sleeves rolled ploughed the land
Lit candles, raised the children, hid their tears
Made ammunitions with a careful hand
Kept watch and saved the night time for their fears
So many stayed at home, and stayed alive
And suffered pain and loss, regret and guilt
That they were left, that they were to survive
Within the house such sacrifice had built
Their many names are not inscribed on stone
Those sorrowed souls, so haunted by war’s ghost
Were left to stand and mourn the dead alone
Listening to the trumpet sound the post
*
by Gail
*
For the congregations of St. John’s and St. Mary’s, Devizes
*
Within a pumpkin’s hollow is a candle burning bright
We have prayed the dead to silence, we have sent them to the light
Bring in dark November, let the winter cold begin
Stick the heating on and let the Saints come marching in
There will be icy dawns and fireworks, dank leaves and naked trees
We shall wish for Christmas jumpers to protect against the freeze
Is it colder now than last year? Oh, where did the year go
By the time we’ve got a grip we will be sliding in the snow
We will remember that November gives birth to the Advent season
And that once the knives were out for Fawkes for gunpowder and treason
We shall wish for bonfires high enough to chase the night away
As we watch the winter shadows fill the corners of the day
We have been tricked, we have been cheated; now it’s all downhill from here
Until we come to rest, at Christmas, when a new light will appear
*
by Gail
A work of poetic fiction
*
He said that he was broken
She told him she was broke
Neither took much notice
When the other person spoke
Far too bl**dy much in love
To weigh the implications
Not much need to forecast then
Future complications
She rationalised the broken thing
He thought that she would change
He thought she would make money
She thought he’d be less strange
You’re not broken, love, she said
And chose a metaphor
You function on most channels
Just not on Radio 4
She’s pretty good in bed, he thought
She’s bright and going far
Shame she’s getting on a bit
And hasn’t got a car
The years went by so quickly
She watched him getting odd
Sometimes he was wonderful
Sometimes a total sod
She had to use a dictionary
To study mental health
He watched with disappointment
Her indifference to wealth
I told you so, he said, and she
Said she had told him too
And both of them remembered
What they had forgot they knew
He really was an odd one
And she didn’t have a dime
And nowt would ever change those things
Not age nor luck nor time
There’s nothing here for me, he thought
Her interest rate is falling
She’s still in social housing
And her prospects are appalling
Love moves mountains, so she thought
I love him sane or mad
She thought that he still loved her too
She really had it bad
In the final conversation
They reviewed the words they’d spoken
How she had told him she was broke
And he said he was broken
I still love you so, she said
He shrugged, his eyes grew dim
With all the faith she had in love
She said these words to him
Take me, love, or leave me
For I always shall be poor…
At that the b*gger got his coat
And walked right out the door
*
by Gail
*
The air is rarified up on the fence
As clear as far as watered eye can see
All silken blue, all glittered light intense
Translucent fathoms of infinity
Way down below, a long stone’s drop away
Through depths of fog and lazy clouded streams
The land lies; half in shadow, half in day
Divided by the fence in two extremes
New womb from yearning grave, dark black from white
The right from left, cool blue from burning red
Each country hidden from the other’s sight
Like crazy virgins doomed to never wed;
The angel of the fence can only pray
Don’t send me down there now, Lord, not today
*
by Gail
Ghost Cat
If the tales of the white cat are true
He had feathers; a ghost cat who flew
Through the shimmering streams
Of the moon’s silver beams
Leaving slain doves in the dew
*
Wobbly Halloween
Don’t come trick or treating down here
We spent all our money on beer
Don’t knock at our door
‘Cos we’re scary and poor
Lend us a tenner for gear
*
by Gail
gailfromdevizes 