Farewell Iron Lady

A woman we were taught as children
Was to change the world today
Has palmed us off with chains of power
Dropped her Balls and gone away

A nation stares in disbelief
The Beeb reacts with scant few lines
That multiply to meet demand
Auto-refresh on overtime

There will be drink that flows tonight
As some rejoice and some despair
The grocer’s daughter’s oversight
That closed the mines and sold the poor

Such lines as Iron Lady stood
For character, caricature
Entitled by the great and good
To whip things up and milk for more

A battleship in pussy bow
She stood her ground from thick to thin
Prime target for the satirists
Whose spitting image kept her in

What mindful public audience
That gather now for funeral cheer
Some come to cry, to jump, to dance
The Lady’s burning time draws near

Cherry Conserves

Ding, dong, the bells rang out
And sirens wailed as cars sped by
With MPs anxious all to spout
Proud eulogies to she whose dying
Broke the mould that shaped this land
A Britain blitzed and bristling
Tenacious hold of ringed hand
Conducting as her choirs sing
But praises in her final hour
When all about her’d scoffed in doubt
A woman might ascend to power
To rule their classes, well-endowed
Through echelons of history
Such ilk, ill-favoured (and less-liked)
Set braver face than enemy
And damned the rest to build a dyke
For old and loyal as they’d seem
Support has grown in recent years
The bad old days are here again
No sum may yet assuage our fears
What party rages through the night
As shades and lines are thinly drawn
All hail the dying of the light!
Now bow before the bitter dawn

Numerical Rumination

Fifty three a week, you say?
Now thirteen’s hit at number ten
As eighty-seven fades away
And decimals are moved again
To pivot on a sliding scale
Up, rise in uniformity
Reduced in stature, pity-pale
But equal to totality

Fishing for Mister Chips

Some always slip through the net, it’s true
We try to dissuade them, with warning glances
Terrible teachings and shoulder chips too
Yet they look for their plaice in the world, take chances

And fall for the hook, a line not intended
To catch such minnows, keen though they wriggle
But tempt floury flounder, a proper five pounder
With pedigree fin-flop and scales well-landed

A gentleman filleted almost from spawning
Too easy, compliant and well-bred for yawning
When skinny fish sizzle, the dull never grizzle
For schooled in his duty, the fat fish stays snooty

And floats on the current, just goes with the flow
Content not to question the things he should know
The minnow is left to the rock-pool and stream
Abandoned, unwanted, to struggle and dream

The Dragoness

Tongue tied in the face of such total denial
Unsure what to say as she squirms to fit in
Contorting the truth ’til it matches desire
She wriggles and struggles to conquer our whim

The pile ever growing, her hoard has been threatened
Not ev’ry dear item surviving the cull
Our backs strained and suffered, this one is the seventh
We’ve moved her rag fact’ry from Burnley to Hull

We stand here, an army of moral supporters
Poke holes in each argument, watering wails
That presage the tantrum still bubbling under
With glimpses of brimstone and manicured nails

I’ve gathered my forces, reluctant acceptance
Complying with wishes, she feigns every mood
And snatches at fav’rites we’d bagged, boxed and bundled
But left unattended while loading the boot

A Rotten Rochester

Well f**k me, he thinks he’s the Earl of sedition
Possibly drinking and whoring enough
To qualify for such exalted position
Aloof and unkempt as he pinches at snuff

Unsure of a welcome in company cultured
So scoffing at those that profess to know Art
He tells us we’re dreaming, unknowing and tortured
But drunkenness little will set him apart

Together we poets forego other fortunes
To settle our diff’rences, savour each line
Uncalled-for comparisons, low blows and falling
He’s here in our cups with his fancies, divine

Reviewing each mouthful with plentiful clamour
To coax of this company swallows and gall
His hopes never plainer, to blind us with glamour
The manner unfortunate, no less, the fall.

Don’t Beat Yourself Up

What’s a girl to do
When ambushed on the stairs
By someone hoping to
Make use of juicy wares?

Stiff lips and careful school
To steer past what’s obscene
We’re taught to keep our cool
And never make a scene

The knee remains un-thrust
A glare the most she’ll risk
Despite this breach of trust
Too probable the fist

Embarrassed by a new
Rejection in this place
He’ll play at much ado
Creating with her face

A moving weekend*

We hired a van
And soon word got around
The first call was for Dan
Picking up, setting down

Jilly got a go next
With a bedroom to shift
Binbags bursting with dresses
A tea set, a chest

Then came Alan and Steve
Wanting help with the band
Member fixing to leave
Only one music stand

Jacob tipped us the wink
There were books going begging
Before we could think
It was almost eleven

The next day, the same
Ed and Esther at last
Moving closer together
(Despite chequered past)

By the time we were through
We’d forgot our own trip
Taking stuff to your dad
And my mum to the tip

*Some names have been altered for rhyming purposes.

The Gawker

Sat in traffic, late and tired
Surrounded by my counterparts
You planted face in front of mine
And spread legs wide to air your arts

As busy fingers made your aim
The capture of my interest
With visage gurning wild acclaim
Did set your eyes upon my chest

Tongue darting out suggestively
To garner thoughts libidinous
In front of mother, child and me
Was not a qualified success

As rolling eyes and shooing hands
Made comedy of willing wiles
Gyrations of explicit glands
Wrought giggles from our sober smiles

Though not a glance we spared for you
Beyond the eye-roll of disdain
Discouraging displays so lewd
Our thoughts must have been pretty plain

You sat it out with kissy face
And pouted seven stops or so
Embarrassed by so little pace
Eventually you let it go

Introducing the wife

I’ve met some mates of mates of mine
Accumulated over time
Whose presence almost prompts a crime
And cannot make me bolder

With comprehension fading fast
When faced with who they picked at last
Put all attempts engaging past
The eyes of their beholder

I try and fail – it feels in vain
Where conversation causes pain
Equivalent to throbbing vein
The frigid front hits colder

And yet last night for once I met
A lady that a classmate set
On pedestal without regret
And pleasantly espoused her