*
Some apples make cider
And some apples not
Some ferment as expected
Some do not
There may be statistics
I suspect not a lot
That predict the existence
Of possible rot
Schrodinger’s cat
Is wise to the plot
A cat in a box
Or a wolf in a cot
In the barn there are barrels
To keep cold or hot
The cider is coming
Ready or not
*
by Gail
for the kid at Currys in Swindon, and for Charlie Higgs
*
Techy kid, techy kid
I just don’t get what you just did
I did the alt delete thing, then
I switched it off and on again
Left it alone and walked away
Had coffee and knelt down to pray
Asked nicely through my tears with love
And then repeated the above
Then went to bed and slept on it
And woke to find it still was sh*t
Where coloured lights and words had been
Just me, reflected in the screen
No choice then but to get the bus
And beg for help, with tears and fuss
You were unassuming, cool
You watched me weep a salty pool
And kindly smiled and flicked a switch
Reducing trauma to a glitch
With just a single finger press
You saved a damsel from distress
And then you gave me good advice
Your patience was refreshing, nice
I just don’t get what you just did
Or where you have your powers hid
Kids like you I shunned at school
I thought you boring and uncool
Being on the internet all day
Not going out to drink and play
Not trying to be hard or hot
Not caring if you are or not
But you, my friend, have kindly eyes
And keep your wisdom for the wise
You just don’t need to make a show
Still waters deep with quiet flow
*
Techy kid, techy kid
I’m so impressed with what you did
Kind scientist and statistician
Spelling logic geek magician
*
by Gail
The Devizes Neighbourhood Plan referendum
at the Town Hall on Thursday 17th September
*
My alarm clock shouts at me with noisy voice
“Wake up! It’s Thursday and you have a choice!”
Of what to have for breakfast, eggs or bran
And of voting or not voting on the Plan
I’m not that sure quite what it’s all about
Perhaps I’ll go online and check it out
The library know their stuff, they’re pretty fair
Could ask at the Town Hall, there’s people there
That funny poet woman says “Vote Yes”
Or otherwise the town will be a mess
Without a Plan we just won’t have a clue
Of what outside developers will do
But other folk are saying “No! Vote No!”
I’m so confused about which way to go
If I don’t vote I haven’t had a say
It’s only a few moments from my day
I’m going to go to town now and the Market
Could take the car but it’s a job to park it
Might take my bike or simply take a walk
And wander round and meet some friends and talk
I wonder what they think, I’ll ask their views
They might, like me, be wondering what to choose
Meat from the butchers, or some humble spam
Or whether to have a quick one in The Lamb
I’ve chosen breakfast eggs, I’m on a roll
I’m going to town, I’m going to simply stroll
I’m going to look at options and take note
I’m choosing choice and I am going to vote
If stuff goes wrong I’ve got till ten o’clock
The day is long, I’m on it (where’s that sock?)
*
by Gail
A personal view of the Devizes Neighbourhood Plan
and the referendum at the Town Hall on Thursday
*
All careful plans of men may fail and fall
And falter, crumble; leaving broken stone
No reason to devise no plan at all
For no man lives by wild chance alone
There has been an edict from on high
“Thou shalt build houses here within ten years
Three hundred homes and thirty three…” then why
Not have a say and ease those planning fears
This Plan has seemed quite hard to understand
To many folk irrelevant, a bore
Yet now the vital hour is at hand
The issue far too pressing to ignore
“What consultation has there been?” the voice
Comes from the floor, comes loud and with an edge
“No one told us that we had a choice
And where are all the leaflets, in the hedge?”
It goes like this; the Trust have made a plan
Consulted up the Brittox, in the post
Collated all the info, then began
To work out where we wanted homes the most
They spoke with Parish Councils, factored in
The traffic, schools, the shops and open space
They put in measures to avoid the sin
Of building ugly stuff that spoils the place
Without the Plan the builders have free rein
To ride roughshod across our lovely land
At which point, just don’t bother to complain
The horse has bolted, galloping, unmanned
If jobs for boys there are let them be ours
Let local builders lay their firm foundations
On brownfield sites, not green fields full of flowers
With guidelines from the Plan’s considerations
No plan is perfect; yet no plan at all
Will simply give us no control, not clever
Consider this; vote Yes at the Town Hall
Or mourn the loss of favoured fields, forever
*
by Gail
What ridiculous term will the media come up with to describe the women in Jeremy Corbyn’s shadow cabinet?
These are my thoughts on the matter…
*
Don’t call us Babes, such nonsense just confuses
We’re equals standing side by side with men
If you must, then coin us Corbyn’s Muses
Inspiring hearts and minds with voice and pen
We’ve got here through integrity and toil
Intelligence and knowledge of the game
We’ll labour endlessly for British soil
Don’t denigrate us with a silly name
by Gail
the eye remembers
bright shadows of dying suns
invisible light
*
wild spring lust faded
satiated summer sleep
restless autumn dreams
*
there will be winter
endless overwhelming night
inevitable
*
knowledge of the tides
may save the soul from drowning
sad insanity
*
by Gail
One day I went to Morrisons
Forgot to take a map
I only wanted beans and buns
And bog roll for a cr*p
Got lost by the ladies things
Forgot my North and South
I didn’t come for flapping wings
Or stuff to wash the mouth
It’s just as bad in Sainsburys
Perhaps it is my age
The fruitless quest for herbal teas
Just puts me in a rage
I’m far too flipping old for these
Daily shopping trials
I’m sweating like a Stilton cheese
Lost in the British aisles
Maybe home delivery?
Should I? Do I dare?
Become a couch potato
Fat arsed, shopping from my chair
I’d miss the talking checkout though
And cheery orange bags
My unexpected items
And my special pricey fags
I’m hard, I can handle it
I’m such a little trooper
And while I’m there I’ll have a sh*t
Markets. Simply Super.
*
by Gail
Should we view images of death and evil in the media?
*
Brutal truth; how dare you burn our eyes
How dare you mark our quiet hearts with pain
Our gentle ears are deafened with your cries
Our worlds will never be the same again
Brutal truth; without you we deny
Ourselves, our fear, the part we have to play
So shine your fierce searchlight from the sky
Force in to form the shadows of the day
Brutal truth; unchain our memory
And rend the veil that shrouds a lie from sight
The evolution of humanity
Is in your hands; stir us to flight or fight
To know ourselves and know our enemy
Shifting deserts, oceans flowing free
*
by Gail
Sir Terry Wogan and Mason McQueen take a tasty trip round town…
*
No traffic jam when Terry came
No culinary surprise
He used his loaf and found some cheese
When munching round The Vize
He and his little Mason friend
Had breakfast at The Bear
Sausage, bacon, beans an ting
No revelation there
Terry chewed the fat a bit
And did a bit of walking
A bit of pork, a bit of cake
And pudding (now you’re talking)
The flight of locks left Terry cold
He didn’t eat the quackers
Then things got quite interesting
When John got out his clackers
And hold on there is Florence
Making Olde Vizes Pie
Terry’s buds are tickled now
A stuffed fox winks an eye
*
So cheers for that then, Terry, mate
You put our town on telly
But next time have some lardy
And get rat ars*d in the Pelly
*
by Gail
(For Florence from The Black Swan
and the Unusual John Girvan)
*
Beauty, your colours
Wash the eye with paint and pain
In rainbow prisms
*
Beauty, your music
Astounds the ear to silence
In cadenced rhythm
*
Beauty, your raw touch
Stirs the flesh to birth and death
In passion driven
*
Beauty, your deep scent
Calls forth sudden memory
In flash unbidden
*
Beauty, your rich taste
Licks the tongue to wild delight
In manna given
*
Beauty, your glory
Ripples water, shatters stones
In revelation
*
by Gail
gailfromdevizes 