Window display; Spirit Clothing, High Street, Devizes
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by Gail
Tree Fairy Princess Dress
England
Diana’s Bobbins
These are the bobbins that my friend Diana uses for lace making
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Many have sentimental value and were made
to mark significant family events
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Katie Hopkins; Wild Redemption
Katie Hopkins, what a bitch
She really makes my innards itch
She’s paid to spit and vent her bile
Her views are simply crass and vile
The woman thinks that refugees
Should all die screaming in the seas
And now she is an educator?
Well, Brunel students sure don’t rate her
Poor Katie got no praise or thanks
Just fifty silent backs in ranks
Her thoughts upon the welfare state
Perceived to be just tosh and hate
They sent her straight to Coventry
A damned good place for her to be
She’s blaming social media
For everyone is wrong but her
Not like she’s a cow at all
Or cares if pride precedes a fall
As long as she still earns a wad
She’ll carry on like some bad God
Dispensing poison, spitting blood
Dragging free speech through the mud
In years gone by our ears would twitch
A mob would rise and kill the witch
But that was then, and this is now
Best to simply shun the cow
For centuries of love and learning
Persuade us Katie’s not for burning
She’s bound to go too far one day
For Karma’s not a bitch to play
Eternal justice, endless fall
Oh, Katie won’t like that at all
Forever with the evil dead, and
Haunted, by the things she’s said
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Do you really want that, Kate?
It’s not too late to recreate
In love there’s simply no exemption
Just endless joy and wild redemption…
by Gail
Doorway Dogs
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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…
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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
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by Gail
Cross and Tree; Devizes Market Place
Stone and Tree in Harmony…
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by Gail
Angelic Imperfection
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
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The only angel
Without wings
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by Gail
Lost and Found; the Spurious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time
For Helen
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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’
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by Gail
Assize Matters
A Fairy Tale
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Once upon a time there was a grand historical building, in the centre of a small but beautiful Wiltshire town, called the Assize Court. For many years the processes of law were carried out within the stern Bath stone walls of the court, and many folk were sentenced in the dock. Some walked under the Ionic pillars to freedom, some to death and some to endless captivity. All human drama was there. Tears were spilt, reputations were ruined and children were left fatherless. Justice was seen to be done. But then one day, as is the way of things, it became obsolete; the last sentence was delivered, and the doors were closed. It stood, slowly decaying, for year upon year; a strange symbol of dereliction in the beating heart of the town. And now, and then, good folk devoted much energy to finding new hope and purpose for the building. Nothing came to pass. The people were met by brick walls and stonewalling. The people gave up the fight. It crumbled. Years, and yet more years, passed. Good folk tried again. No joy. More brick walls and stone walling. It crumbled. Again, passionate people rallied, and tried to make sense of it. Again, brick walls and stonewalling. It crumbled. Until, one day, it had crumbled beyond all hope. At which point the land was used to build houses and offices. And yea, verily, as some had prophesied, someone made a large pot of gold. And lived happily ever after.
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by Gail
They Never Went To War
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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
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by Gail
Darkness Becoming Visible; November
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For the congregations of St. John’s and St. Mary’s, Devizes
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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
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by Gail
gailfromdevizes 