Long Calais Poems
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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.
A permanent fixture on the news
over here on the BBC
Is the Refugee Crisis so much so
it may just as well be given it's own
individual segment
And the general running theme throughout
is how we aren't seemingly doing enough
for them
Or treating them in the way or in the matter
they are accustomed to or were expecting
due to according to their human rights
But given that they come here uninvited
without any form of official documentation
and as a country we are struggling to provide
for our own
And yes i know what I am about to say
will be deemed by some as not being
politically correct or unemphatic
But whatever happened to that little
thing called gratitude towards your host
and not complaining about everything
and everything and nothing being good
enough
But hey then again I have to stop
and remind myself
They are all refugee's and asylum seekers
Wanting nothing more that just to flee
political repression human rights abuse
and the war raging in Calais France
And are willing to do whatever it takes
to escape and get here even if that means making the treacherous perilous
23 mile journey across the channel to
England in a rubber dinge
And put not only their own lives in danger
but their children's lives at risk as well for
want of a better life
And how bad must thing's be in
Calais France if none of them even
wanted or wished to stay
But it must have been worse than
whatever reason or place made them
escape or leave in the beginning
And obviously England according to the
news accounts coming out reported by
the BBC
Ain't much better either
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?
I’m striding with my jacket, you turn off the rifle
You lead me by the hand, because I can’t say so
You say you don’t love me, but you pull me close
Early morning, I trail your footsteps
You say you don’t want to bind, I say I want to solus
I say I can’t maim, but you can’t hide your needle
But when we kiss, the goosebumps are blazing.
I’m crooning in the flame, you burn off the eventide
You kiss me by the neck, because I can’t see so
You say you don’t concede me, but you call me back
Early midnight, I trail your fingertips
You say you don’t deem to own, I say I want to hie
I say I can’t cop, but you can’t grant your spurn
But when we kiss, the infernos are shivering.
Orpheus and Calais, you can risk the love they couldn’t rebuff
Got my spirit trapped, because your kisses they spark passions
Apollo and Hyacinth, you can odds the love they couldn’t fringe
Got my heart stowed, because your whistles they spark ardent glows
Now your vex order depart, but your heart hopes bide.
Jack and Rose, I can risk the love they couldn’t dwell
Got your soul hurt, because my fears they ignite disdains
Maurice and Alec, I can odds the love they couldn’t vent
Got your head shunt, because my words they inflict thorns
Now my shame order drift, but my heart hopes bide.
Because when we tangle fingers
You’ve had a hold on me right from the start
You’ve had a toll on me right to the end
Because when we snug forms
Oh, when we kiss, I couldn’t tear us apart
Oh, when we hug, I couldn’t own us distant
When the flames sway, you cooee me
When the flames whirl, I clepe you.
Bulky ute voyeur selects sleek sporty stalion
Driving by, supersedes her oversized sedan
Wide wheel arches have Porche comparison
Voracious engine's enthuse easily enchants
Large car cast dispelled by lacklustre Calais
Original conjur 370Z parked beside boring
Low leg swing exclusive slide in, magic valet
Over revved start stabs adrenalin assuring
Our dear Dara, choice contacted in December
Available last minute to test drive his beast
Black gloss road boss, enlarged 'lungs' terror
Capable crazy bitumen baby, tester pleased
Ultimate Man concurs, the amenable outcome
Keys in her hand a few days after, aura froze
Couldn't imagine huge generosity from anyone
Racing car reap, increase on what she sows
Merry go round roads, another showoff slotted
Silver pole stabilised glides in Surfers cycle
Crosslane carousel onlookers, briefly besotted
By hot hoof nimble Nissan race horse style
28th March
Too Great of a Man
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
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?
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
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.
What if the Rubix cube was round?
Would everything lost be found?
Maybe Boris Johnson wouldn't be head,
three cheers for Mary Berry as pm instead.
Would we have ever left the EU?
Say 'bygone' to the Dover/Calais queue.
COVID may never have shown its ugly face,
and bankrupt every marketplace.
We'd greet one another with a grin and hug,
not a distant wave or a faraway shrug.
Perhaps daytime tv would be on local life,
not murder, illness, earthquakes and strife.
Historic figures could come back to life,
and lay down every weapon and knife.
Each eager to make peace, do right,
knowing full well war only starts a fight.
Where everyone has everything they need,
all injustice gone, every civilian freed.
Where hope becomes tangible,
each language understandable.
Dreams become reality,
regardless of nationality.
Where love drives every action,
and brings everlasting satisfaction.
04/03/2021