Labour party on the precipice pegging all hopes on Andy
Come forth the King of the North who’s more than handy
Begging voters with a new orifice in office sweet as candy
No self harmer Starmer karma so will be fine and dandy
Novice compared to Boris when it’s comes to being randy
Chequers not mecca for shady sort cohorts on the brandy
Burnham’s bid to get rid of the avarice & malice of Mandy
Andy no pinko champagne socialist working class shandy
The Mayor with flair and great hair becomes the grandee
Flashes those eyelashes an ego plea everyone look at me
Gooey cheese he does bestow like Barry Manilow’s Mandy
Don't tease Andy be a tandy & give muppet Farage a pandy
With new brand & a hand from Ed Milliband & Lisa Nandy
Free from company tyranny he’s not a puppet "Andy Pandy"?
Out of the yard
daughter Bev & me
on a hot summer day
of Eighty-three
Hastoe to Cadsden,
there and back
eight hours in the saddle..
for our first all-day
hack
Onto the canter path
down to Paines End
through Fox Lane
our route did wend
into a copse missing branches low
keeping the pace
to an even flow
Up to Dunsmore
by the Black Horse
via Little Hampden
we followed the course
down to
Chequers &
into Pondswood
up the hill
as ast as we cpuld
At to the Plough pub
tethered the horses
to the garden trees
ordered a ploughmans
with pickle&cheese
feet up awhile
for a long rest
enjoying a pint
of the landlord's best
then
into the saddle
no more time to laze
off at a canter
in the afternoon haze
Back in Hastoe
as the clock struck four
to stack the tack
on the stable door
Year Posted 2007
THE HACK
Out of the yard,my daughter and me,on a hot
summer day of Eighty-three.Hastoe to Cadsden,
there and back,eight hours in the saddle,for our
first all-day hack.Onto the canter path,down to
Paines End,through Fox Lane the route did wend.
Into a copse ,keeping the pace to an even flow.
Up to Dunsmore,past the Black Horse, we followed
the course.Chequers, Pondswood,down hill to the pub.
Horses tethered for a rest,we ate our ploughmans with
a pint of the landlord's best.Back in the into the saddle,
at the canter to retrace our steps and in Hastoe as the
clock struck four,to stack the tack on the stable door
Out of the yard
daughter Bev & me
on a hot summer day
of Eighty-three
Hastoe to Cadsden,
there and back
eight hours in the saddle..
for our first all-day
hack
Onto the canter path
down to Paines End
through Fox Lane
our route did wend
into a copse missing branches low
keeping the pace
to an even flow
Up to Dunsmore
by the Black Horse
via Little Hampden
we followed the course
down to
Chequers &
into Pondswood
up the hill
as ast as we cpuld
At to the Plough pub
tethered the horses
to the garden trees
ordered a ploughmans
with pickle&cheese
feet up awhile
for a long rest
enjoying a pint
of the landlord's best
then
into the saddle
no more time to laze
off at a canter
in the afternoon haze
Back in Hastoe
as the clock struck four
to stack the tack
on the stable door
Year Posted 2007
Brexit Sonnet No. 42
‘Away Day in Chequers’
An away day in Chequers, a jolly, a Cabinet ride,
Meetings and flip charts galore and blu-tack with tea.
Not a plan do we have, no map, no compass, no guide,
No ideas to extol, no principles here that I see.
Maybe we’ll sit and break ice as you do for a laugh,
One fact unknown about me I’ll share if you like.
But hold, we cannot, it’s quite simply rash and most daft,
To give you, my ‘colleagues’, my ‘friends’, this ammo to snipe.
But a small price to pay, these meetings so dreadfully fraught,
For as evening sets in, our banquet arrives in the hall.
No chicken gone missing, just indulge me ‘till I am bought.
I’ll wine and I’ll dine and at first light, to bed I will crawl.
My words I will watch with great care; Brexit truth I must keep,
And let falseness with untruths prevail as my conscience doth sleep.
©Keith Murphy
We could slip down the alleyways
to
disappear into yesterday's
and tomorrow would never arrive.
Riding high on the limpid waves
Rising high on the shimmering presence
Blue waters of white marbled chequers
For the eternal hymns of wayward heart
The golden domes invoking a saffron path.
Novices of thoughts and sunshine abiding
The golden swarms of vibratory atoms
The hush of pilgrims on the circular pitch
Tearing apart structures of egoed ditch.
Give vent to destinations of beauty & liberty
The concerns of soul now past its restrictions
Illuminate a glance bereft of the inner tumult
Saluting the Guru’s presence in a silent rebirth.
Avebury a Wiltshire village low
To windswept beacon of Ivinghoe.
Eighty-five miles,vale and hill
Wayfare freedoms,exhilarate and thrill.
Striding downs in grassy scrub
Midst trees and clumps of shrub;
Shaded lanes,gates and stiles,
Wayside pubs to rest awhile.
Overton to Wantage plain
Goring and Streatly in the rain;
Chinnor to Bledlow,in freezing chill,
To Buckmoor,Chequers and Coombe Hill.
Wendover to Hastoe through morning dew
Wigginton,Albury onto Beacon view;
Natural history and species now rare,
Time to idle or just stand and stare.
Out of the yard,daughter Bev and me,on a hot summer day of Eighty-three.Hastoe
to Cadsden,there and back,eight hours in the saddle..for our first all-day
hack.Onto the canter path,down to Paines End,through Fox Lane our route did
wend.Into a copse ,missing branches low,keeping the pace to an even flow.Up to
Dunsmore,past the Black Horse,via Little Hampden we followed the course.Past
Chequers and into Pondswood,down the hill to reach the pub.
Tethered the horses to the garden trees,ordered a ploughmans,with pickle and
cheese.Feet up awhile for a long rest,enjoying a pint of the landlord's best.
Into the saddle,no time to laze,off at a canter in the heat haze.Back in Hastoe as
the clock struck four,to stack the tack on the stable door.
The Bees knees.
Except when it freeze.
Screen blank.
Like, hit by a tank.
It has a mind of its own!
Delete, defrag, firewall and defender.
Virus, spyware and distemper.
Memory that does not remember.
I fight them every day.
For birthdays, appointments and the like.
It is just right.
Telling how much in the bank.
It is very frank.
I have to prove, that I am best.
I win at chequers and chess.
I am looking for a poet.
Who is a computer Ace.
To help me repair it's face.
So many help files.
But I cannot find.
What I need to make and mind.
Keep it going at all cost.
Without it. I am lost.
.........................................
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