Empires

Triremes of Claudius go speeding out of Gaul,
charged with taming Albion, enigmatic queen,
then civilise and modernise
with unity and roads,
to leave a lasting legacy where Rome has been.

Bold privateers of Devon, harnessing the wind:
Buccaneers with cutlasses plunder Spanish pelf
then bequeath the world a language,
democracy and law,
bonding scattered people in a vast Commonwealth.

Bureaucrats of Brussels, inept scions of Rome,
with bloated pay and pension cosseting a life
of bumbledom and jargon
in quangos that cascade
unedifying orders, sowing seeds of strife.

Charlie Gregory
Cardiff 2014

Mood Swings

Christmas is over and done.
The past belongs to the dead.
A bright new age has begun.
Fresh plans evolve in my head.
I’ll do what the hell I choose.
Then... damn! January Blues.

The wind blows chill off the sea.
So what? For the year is mine.
Mud in the pool on the lea;
gold in the lake down the line;
solace is found in the muse.
Then... damn! January Blues.

News is all chaos and hell;
buffeting gale in the streets,
winter is casting a spell.
Rain covers the town in sheets,
but hey, I’ll go on a cruise.
Then... damn! January Blues.

Next year, things could look better;
future is bright, so they say.
Plan, then play by the letter.
Like wise men, live for the day.
Positive folk never lose.
Then... damn! January Blues.

AW