Best Calais Poems
My wife and I share a passion for travelling, the world we love to see
We travelled through France and Switzerland and we're now in Italy
Day one was a trip in a cable car to the summit of Mount Baldo
The views from the top were amazing of Lake Garda down below.
Day two we visited Verona, a city of great architectural beauty
And it's where Shakespeare was inspired by Juliets famous balcony
We saw great works of art showing statues, of Roman mythology
Churches now outnumber them after their conversion to Christianity.
Day three we went on a speed boat trip on the beautiful Lake Garda
Then had a walk around the town of Sirmoine, and ate some tasty pizza
Of course the day would not be complete without tasting some gelato
Every flavour you can think of, it's ice cream in case you didn't know.
On the fourth day we went to Venice and we were pleasantly surprised
St Marks Square, Rialto Bridge, Doges Palace and The Bridge of Sighs
Lots of narrow passageways that leads to many a little square
Words alone can't convey its appeal you really have to be there.
On the fifth and last day a scenic trip up the Dolomite mountains
We saw scenic alpine images and drove through villages with fountains
Swiss style chalets dotted the hillsides that added to its great charm
Scenes of utmost tranquillity that gives you a feeling of inner calm.
Day six and its time to head back home, and we travelled through the night
Through Switzerland then Calais in France, to catch the ferry at first light
Then just two more coaches that will take us nearer to our home
My wife is looking at brochures for next year, to see where else we can roam.
Written on 9th October 2022.
Off the stuccoed walls, the shells peel
The wounded babes bleed
There is a story of harrowing kind
To every war
This one is no different to others
The babes die in Aleppo
The world maintain the stony silence
Mothers' hearts shattered to pieces
Meanwhile
by both the forces of Assad and Isis.
The lucky few hit the jungle
In Calais
braving the oceans
And the deadly shells
Seeking shelter from us.
Yet a hysteria breaks
In heartless media
Demanding the samples of DNAs
They are not one of us
We must kick them back to the jungle
And have them deported to their lands
Bombed.
We won't offer no succor
Let them be tortured
Let their bones get fractured
Let their mothers’ hearts shattered
They are not one of us.
These kids need a right old kicking
The heartless whores of tabloid shout.
We listen
And hold our heads in shame
Powerless:
On the face of demonization of the victims
Of the war
Where is our tolerance?
Where is our compassion gone?
Ice on my igloo
roads frosted over
Cursed, cutting cadaverous cold
deathly chill from Calais to Dover
Thought it was nippy
but my fingers are numb
Arctic algidity all around
winds whistle, envelop my town
Why must we endure
gelid, glacial Siberian air
Is warmth only comprehended
when to harrowing cold it's compared
chhh-ta-cuff, chhh-ta-cuff
The train chugging back and forth
Looked out of the window.
The beautiful landscape floating by
I wish I was there in the fresh air
Aha, the train stopped at Calais station,
the engine driver has got down.
It is the time for uploading the coal
And will take more time to fire
the engine of the steam locomotive.
I saw the Towers of Canterbury.
My mind was full the Chaucerian images.
Felt peace with waters of English Channel
I heard the whistle and chhh-ta-cuff sound
I ran and running the train I got aboard.
I again I looked out of the window
And saw green meadows and willows,
the English dolls strolling by.
I put out my head out of the window
Oh, my face was dark with the soot
and my eyes aching with the grit.
I heard the sound of the engine along
Recalling the words of R.L. Stevenson
"Faster than fairies, faster than witches."
+++
January 23, 2015
Form: Free Verse
Second Place Win
They wait, waiting to break the law of any country, they rush in their thousands to gain access to the tunnel**. Why, what do they envisage is at the end, a pot of gold, reality is another camp, until they are sent back to country of origin. These are the poor people who have tried to reach the shores of the UK. Spent their meagre savings to reach this goal,
it stands for freedom
dark mouth, with forbidden depth……
sign says your welcome
** referring to the Tunnel at Calais that connects UK to rest of Europe, thousands of refugees are waiting to enter illegally by storming the tunnel or hiding in back of a lorries. So Sad.
The cigarette Smoking
When I lived in Britain that place where refugees in Calais
try to hide in a lorry for the crossing to the promised land.
And haven where pubs are full and pints of lager is a dream
a longing for the unobtainable.
I liked to visits pubs more often than my wife liked not so
much for the ale, one can buy beer and drink it in the park,
(I remember Birkenhead Park before I got a job and a room)
it was the cosiness of drinking and smoking.
Then we were invaded by the health brigade and that was ok,
and we had to go outside for a ***.
This was no good for my health leaving a warm pub to go to
the winter outside I got a cold so bad I left the country.
Since smoking was no longer sociable I stopped. No doubt some
scientist will tell us a bit of nicotine is good for you.
For me it will be too late, I like nothing more than having a meal
at a restaurant free of stale tobacco smoke.
Moo
It bounced down my street like a mad thing on heat
Or a kangaroo doing a trick
The farmer that blocked it was knocked off his feet
By his cow on an old pogo stick
So a cow on a pogo stick bounced down my street
The footrests weren't right for her hooves
So they're welded with superglue onto her feet
Which is okay so long as she moves
But you can’t stand still on a pogo stick
Cos if you do you will fall over
So she bounced on her stick and she went quite a lick
As the farmer pursued her to dover
She hopped on a ferry, they thought she was merry
As she did her mechanical ballet
She said she had nary so much as a sherry
And she promised to hop off at Calais
A shift of the rudder made the ship shudder
Our cow made a messy mistake
Thanks to that judder she jiggled an udder
And sprayed half the deck with milk shake
Her strange bouncy dance continued in France
Until the old farmer arrived
A touch of sedation and glue separation
Meant our bouncy bovine survived
A calabus loved a calaboose
Went to Calamis to catch a moose
But in a great hurry
Vision's kinda blurry
Cooked in Calais a Catalan goose.
If I am ambitious, on one future day,
I will make the swim from Dover to Calais.
If I am ever granted carte blanche,
I will cross the body of water French call “La Manche”.
Many athletic swimmers have done it before.
If I do it, I will be just one more.
To fight the swift current between England to France,
will take the most audacious and determined chance.
However, there is one thing I need to remember.
The attempt should not be made in January or December.
Although I may be considered bold,
the water during those months will be too cold.
Evening of life when struggles are over
Living without luxuries on a small monthly pension
Never needing the ferry back from Calais to Dover.
Fleet-footed days driven from season to season;
No clutter but the essentials with access to Internet,
A telephone landline, and a flat-screen television.
One spare room to accommodate the sure guest
Family or friend, who'll be pleased to drift in,
Claiming their turn for a holiday and rest.
Neighbours invited for a tonic with gin
Discover the shops where the price could be lower
But cart away the empties to the recycling bin.
Some may believe that our lives are in clover
Depends whether you like it less fast, or much slower.
I didn’t want to join as a pilot, and could wait till next Monday,
To become a rear gunner, but I choose to be a wireless operator,
By waiting another three months. There were 30 men in array,
And we trained at Bridgnorth and Yatesbury to fly on a bomber.
I’d joined with Keith, and we were selected to fly on Lancasters,
And because we’d done well in the theory exams, we were chosen,
For radio jamming the Luftwaffe’s signals on equipment of ours,
Called ABC, and we listened into Nazi transmitters, the conversation.
We chose our pilots, but the Adjutant made us into Pilot Officers:
We wanted more training, because at stake was our life and death,
And, indeed, we went through many pilots, and some had blinkers,
Especially the Canadians, unaware of Europe’s mountains and breadth.
We flew raids on the Ruhr from base to Reading to Beachy Head,
To Le Treport, then across France and into Germany the target;
Once Keith’s plane did not return, and i wrote to his mum, not dead,
Just missing in a POW camp, to Florence that was my true bet.
On the 50th anniversary my wife and i travelled to Calais to see,
My friend’s grave, which was in Cambrai, found a UK gardner there,
Who directed us to the German cemetery where Kieth was to be,
One of 40 graves that lay serene and peacefully with no palaver.
His body was still in uniform and on the headstone it carefully said,
“Proud and treasured memories,” must’ve been Florence’s words,
But I was strangely upset because on the stone “Pilot” was read,
Why should it say that when he was a wireless operator, i had words?
Young Girl of Calais
There was a young girl of Calais
Who dreamed of dancing ballet
But with her two left feet
and not quite petit
Cest non, said the Calais ballet
No Home
There was a young lad who hadn’t a home
so off to the Social he went for a loan.
He told them, I’m hungry, I’ve nothing to eat
no money no food or shoes on my feet.
They told him ‘No’; He began to cry
He pleaded and asked them why not, Why?
I haven’t even got a bed
I may as well be bloody dead.’
Tired hungry and full of woe
what to do he didn’t know?
So off to Calais he went
to live with the refugees. In a tent.
I don’t know a tweet from a twitter
Instagram and Tik-Tok? I was a quitter
I receive lots of texts, but do not send any
My hands get clammy from spending a penny…
Huh? Wudja say? – Yeah, I’m doing OK.
Went to Oahu last month; next week to Calais
My life’s insured for ten million; my wife can’t complain
She purchases bitcoin; I invest in blockchain
These are not donations
But only my frustrations
From working all workstations
Yet no compensations
For Calais formations
From all my creations
Confrontations leads
To my deviations
Exclamations
In need a vacation
I feel vibrations
Cause my expectations
Is I meet expectations