GloPoWriMo2019 Day Twenty-eight

Today we write about poems


I could write about any number of poems that I have read
Over the many years that I have been reading poetry.
There have been short poems, long poems,
Ones that rhyme, ones that do not rhyme,
Ones with a regular metre, ones that ramble and meander to the end of their lines
And then drift onto the next line as well and

sometimes into the next stanza.
But on poem has stayed with me, and seems
To grow in impact as we live through
This month of fools.

"History repeats itself.
Has to.
No-one listens."

It is short, but it is so much to the point,
And I do not know why I am trying to
Write new poetry when these three
Simple lines say everything that everyone else
Has ever said.

There have always been fools.
There will always be fools.
We are all sailing on the ship of fools.

(c) 2ndwitch, 28/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Twenty-seven

Today we rewrite the bard, with a twist.

And when you're older, darling
And wrinkled like an unironed shirt
Those guys who stare at you now
Will seem to matter not at all.
And if they ask why you are ugly now
And why have you not taken care to age well,
Then say, from within the depth of your soul,
That the fools have shamed us, now folly wins
And the ephemeral beauty of a firework
Lasts longer than the beauty of the fool
And his child will know naught beyond the excuse
And will inherit the earth by folly laid bare.
     If only we knew then what we know today
     How different might our actions be today.

(c) 2ndwitch, 27/04/19

("When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery so gazed on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed of small worth held:
Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days;
To say, within thine own deep sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use,
If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,'
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
     This were to be new made when thou art old,
     And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold."
Shakespeare Sonnet II )

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Twenty-six

Today we are being formal again.


Oh do not sail into the treacherous seas,
Thou many-masted ship of many fools
But stay in this safe harbour if you please.

There are no charts to help you sailing free,
And the seas respect not you nor rules,
Oh, do not sail into the treacherous seas.

The pain of life can bring you to your knees
And make you wish you'd learnt of this at school,
But stay in a safe harbour if you please.

The wildest waves or gentlest swell that teases
Is nought beside the whirling of this pool,
Oh do not sail into those treacherous seas.

Your journey would be endless, there is no ease
At the destination port, you're but the tools
Who should stay within safe harbour if you please.

We are but human, frail, and hearing all our pleas
The fools are still determined they are not fools,
But do not sail into those treacherous seas
And stay in this safe harbour if you please.

(c) 2ndwitch, 26/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Twenty-five

Today we season with a sonnet.

When first I hear the cuckoo call in spring
I look toward the beech tree grand and tall.
I smell the raindrop's song, and hear it sing
Of dying days of winter that recall

The crisp and frozen crust on fallen snow
That hides the saddest mark of season's end,
And then I turn my face to winds that blow
The taste of hope that memory will mend.

For as I watch the new leaf dimpled sky
And catch the wee birds' chatter in the trees,
And see the soaring hawk that hovers near,
Then think I of foolishness, asking why
The greed of some can bring us to our knees -
But only future's promise do I fear.

(c) 2ndwitch, 25/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Twenty-four

Today we consult a thesaurus.


The thesaurus is a dinosaur that has survived into the modern world.

The child flips open the pages and looks at the words hidden within.

The fool sees words and cannot understand this is not a dictionary.

And so the legacy continues      
                  there is an antidote to folly in its venerable pages
                  but the fool sees it as a counter-measure against his efforts.
             the dinosaurs existed in antiquity, roaming an earth
             devoid of fools, and golden olden day.
         the wise are apathetic, seeing only pain and a hopeless
         future, the fools unconcerned beyond themselves.
     the would be wise are apprehensive, the ship is sailing
     into uncharted waters, disturbed by new currents.
 And the ones who advise have only approximate answers
 To offer, no balm to soothe the rough pain of what is to come.

And yet the ship prepares to sail, to leave behind that which
Is familiar, and to sacrifice the wise who urge caution
In order to preserve the interests of fools.
The fools are dinosaurs, left walking a modern earth
Searching for an age long gone, that lives now only in their imaginations.

(C) 2ndwitch, 24/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Twenty-three

Today we describe an animal.

Four legs.
It definitely should have four legs,
Because three would make it hard for it to run,
And five would probably make it trip up.
So it has four legs,
It has a tail.
A long and swishy tail,
That can be plaited or left free
To blow in the wind as it runs
Along the glen from burn to byre and back.
It is white.
Shining white, maybe more silver,
With an inner light
That shines as it wanders by the river
In the gloaming.
It stops to sniff a rose.
A small white rose,
A rose that has been written about
By another poet
In another time.
And its noble head carries
But one horn,
A unicorn,
The beast of mythology that carries
Hope for Scotland's future
In every hoof beat.
Not the jazzy and blowsy
Unicorn of the imagining of fools.
Not the plastic and fragile
Toy that the fools believe can steer their ship.
This unicorn has strength
And grace.
This unicorn can run forever.

(c) 2ndwitch, 23/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Twenty-two

Today the fools sing.

It has been suggested, somewhere or other,
That music is a universal language.
The wordy can talk to the wordless via notes
And rests, and artificial borders
Of the sort that languages create are rendered
Ephemeral and transitory by a whistled melody.

So, as the ship of fools prepares to sail,
Perhaps it should emulate the ferry that sails
Each day from North Shields and serenade
Its foolish crew with 'Anchors Aweigh' so that they
Might understand that their vessel is leaving
The safety of a known harbour and steaming
Its way out into unknown and uncharted waters?

Or maybe we should just accept that music
Can contain cliche, and that however bad the
Tragedy that blights our lives, friends will
Apparently comfort us and we will find
Beauty in seeing snowdrops in the rain.

(c) 2ndwitch, 22/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Twentyone

Today we visit a zoo.

The small voice is buried in a cacophony of sound
And the chimps and cockatiels
Parade their endless superiority
In a hall bound in wood, polished and smoothed
With the arguments of ages and the passing
Swish of ancient gowns.
There used to be a reason when first men
Came to this house and sat beside other men.
In those other days there were reasons
And the eldritch scream of debate was a distant
Echo warning of things to come.
Late nights with port and belching pigs
That have feasted on ill-gotten spoils.
Penguins on parade through the lobbies
Whilst in the viewing gallery the naked apes
Watch as a feeding frenzy is enveloped in
Calling cats and the keeper tried to keep order.
The small voice is still there, but the naked apes
Can shout louder, and the brass monkeys
Chatter and squeal as they take all
The available bananas.

(c) 2ndwitch, 21/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Twenty

Today we debate.

She told me it would be okay
"It'll be fine, stop worrying"
But even then I had my doubts,
Someone else said to have patience
"Just take your time, you'll get there"
But those words sounded as a cracked bell.
You see, my dear, when life is
A constant parade of fools, each
More braggart than the last, it is
Hard to judge the truth and
Even harder to stay true to yourself.

(c) 2ndwitch, 20/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Nineteen

Today we consider the alphabet.

A ship of fools
Bound for glory
Carrying no knowledge, but
Denying
Everything.
Fools, the crew, and
Guesswork informs
How they set sail.
In case of emergency
Just break open a bottle, and
Kill another pheasant.
Lemon, with your gin?
More red wine in the sauce?
No need to worry about
Others,
Poor people,
Quite how they manage
Remains a mystery, and out of our
Sight.
Tuck in to
Underdone steak and
Vintsge
Wine, watching
X-rated films for free,
You need not ever pay because
 . . . this is a democracy ruled
by an out of control ship of fools
whose final destination is known not
even to the captain.
Whoever she may be.

(c) 2ndwitch, 19/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Eighteen

Today we are in remembrance.

She wore my sunglasses.
She did not ask if she may, but just
Took them
From my bag, and put them on.
I remember that.
I took a photo of her
Wearing my sunglasses.
Enigmatic, the world reflected
In my sunglasses.
There was no shadow, no sense of foreboding,
Just laughter and teasing.
She wore my sunglasses.

Then one day the world ended.
Time stopped,
And she would never again
Take my sunglasses from my bag
And wear them.

She did not tolerate fools, but
Tomorrow we shall return to fools
In this month of fools
That is also the month
Of her birth.

(c) 18/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Seventeen

Today we turn the tables.

As a child we learn to respect knowledge and
To assume that with learning comes wisdom.
We are raised to view the ones who attain power
As possessing wisdom, for without it they could not be in power.

I may be small, Mr Politician, but I can watch you.
I see you on television, talking about important things.
I listen to your words about education.
Education concerns me, Mr Politician.
I understand that it is important that I can read and write,
But I do not understand why it is more important that
I understand a subjunctive clause than that I
Understand the meaning of birdsong.
I understand that I must be taught important things
And that those who teach me are important people,
But I do not understand why you will not pay
Enough important people to help me learn.
I understand that it is important that I treat
Everyone as my equal, and do not judge on your
Terms of colour, class or gender, but I
Do not understand why there is one rule for
You, and a different rule for me.
I understand that there are glories in my past,
But when you tell me of them I see only sadness,
And I do not understand why the old people, the
Ones who should have grown wiser with the years,
Should want to make me live in the past and
Not have any hope for the future.
I understand we need to live in harmony with
The earth, and do not understand why you cannot
Understand that simple truth.

I understand, Mr Politician, that what I was taught
Is wrong, and that you are not in power because you are wise,
But you are in power because you understand the importance
Of money, and of self, and all else is just words.
I understand, Mr Politician, I understand.
I understand that you are no more than a fool.

(c) 2ndwitch, 17/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Sixteen

Today we consider.

In your hand it smooths quickly.
In your hand it moves smoothly.
In your hand it caresses the wood.
In your hand it would always be gentle.
In your hand it has rhythm.
In your hand it plays its own tune.
In your hand there is a shimmer of sawdust.
In your hand the wood grows warm.
In your hand the plane is plain, but
In your hand it is a thing of wonder.

Perhaps the fools would be best to seek the wisdom
Of the old man with the plane, and
To consider the way in which rough wood
Is planed to become a thing of serenity,
Smoothness and beauty?

(c) 2ndwitch, 16/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Fifteen

Today this fool speaks.

However quiet the morning there is no doubt
That it is the beginning of a new day.
I walk, bare-headed, in this awakening land
And hear the call of the birds and see
The dew-dropped grass bend under the weight
Of the world's tears.
Oh why is this world so damaged?
Why do I hear pain in every softly
Uttered cry, and in the very breeze that
Sifts and sorts the emerging leaves?
The ship that I should have been on
Sailed so long ago, in June, and heads
Now, rudderless and adrift, roughly
In the direction of the so-called
New World.
It carries the rampaging triumphalism
Of a long dead Empire, and cannot
See that it is the folly of those like me
That rips the tattered sails and tears
The screaming shrouds in the
Cold and heartless winds that drive
The raging seas.
It is too late for me, I cannot sail on that
Ship, and would not want to if I could.
But even now, I wish that we could return
The ship to harbour and rebuild the land
It has left behind.

(c) 2ndwitch, 15/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Fourteen

Today we consider our rites.

Perhaps some find it essential to preserve our rites
Whatever the threat or argument against them.
Perhaps others find it essential to preserve our rights
Whatever the threat or argument against them.

When these issues rise in their thoughts, the fools
Rise to the bait and begin to shout and bluster.
When these issues rise in life, the wise
Rise to the occasion and try to muster
Some sense and import it into the proceedings
Which obviously have great import
For the sum of all believings.

The fools are convinced that rites matter most,
The wise hold rights as worth any cost,

(c) 2ndwitch, 14/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Thirteen

Today we are mysterious.

There is a ghost that is really in charge.
There is evidence.
There are promises but they are not fulfilled.
There are people's whose wishes they willed
Have been ignored and refused
Whose beings are cursed and abused.
There are threats of evils and pain
Made again, and again and again,
And again, by the fools
Who make their own rules,
And the wise who have sense
Are left sad, and incensed
At the mysterious way that
Nobody seems to be in charge.

(c) 2ndwitch, 13/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Twelve

Today is a dull day.

The highlights of life attract the passing glance
And hold it, transfixed, for a moment of frozen time.
It is the lights we recall, not the dark sky they
Are set against, it is the sparkle of the tinsel
Not the dull green of the tree.
Or is it?
Is what we really remember the contrast
Of light and dark, of bright and dull?

We recall the promise on the bus, and the
Threats of immigrants and losing our identity
And these are set in stark contrast against the
Realities of economic forecasts and
Canceled educational exchanges.
The desire to have a blue passport
Stands out, and the loss of a research project
In renewable energy seems distant and
Rather boring.
Rather dull.
But yet, in the end, when all is said and done,
When the shouting is over, and the dust has settled,
Then we will realise that it was the dull things
That we really needed and cared about all along.
And then the words of the wise, drowned out
At the time in the cacophony of fools,
Will sing out sadly but true.
When it is too late, and the fools
Have gained their empty victory.

(c) 2ndwitch, 12/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Eleven

Today we consider the origin of fools.

Were they born of woman, or did they hatch
From a rancid egg laid by an old hen?
Perhaps they were spawned in a foetid
Pond, rank with stagnant water and
Slimy with rotting pondweed?
Perhaps they simply happened,
Crawling from beneath a random
Stone one cold November afternoon?

For the fools who live a luxurious life
At the expense of the downtrodden
Wise men have no moral compass by
Which to navigate a gentle and considerate
Path through daily experiences.
The wise men who know how to travel
Kindly through this land, and who
Appreciate the keening cry of the soaring hawk,
Are given no room by the fools, they
Are shouted down, and ignored, and their
Words of wisdom and gravity vanish
In the cacophonous maelstrom of jibes
And insults that are the mode of business
For the foolish ones who operate the controls.

This is where the fools come from,
They come from money and arrogance,
Transmitted from foolish father to foolish son
For ever and ever, amen.

(c) 2ndwitch, 11/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Ten

Today we consider the wind.

It's a lazy wind.
Lazy?
Aye, lazy - blows through you
And won't go round you.
A lazy wind.
A wind that blows no good
From nowhere.

It has been said that a fool
Is but a bag of wind.
A lazy fool cannot
Help but blow his foolish wind
In your face.
His wind will strip the skin from your bones
And the levity from your life
Without a single regret.

It's an ill wind that blows no-one any good.
But this wind is terminally ill
And the fools are extinguishing
The wise by their intemperate gusting.

Oh, for the wind of change instead.

(c) 2ndwitch, 10/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Nine

Today we list things.

Only the fool places faith in things.
Only the foolish worship things.

But the wise see things
As simply things in context:

Today the sun has set leaving a clear sky
Tinged blue with pink,
Glowing and arcing above the
Deepling grey of the fellside.

Today the buzzard soared overhead
And its keening cry pierced
To the heart of the day.

Today the magnolia opened its flower
And smiled at the spring sunshine.

And today the fools clutched at straws.

Again.

(c) 2ndwitch, 09/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Eight

The day we take-away.

Surely there will be time to cook
Up some form of solution that
Will pass muster?
Surely the ingredients we need for
A meal deal are all there in the
Euromarket, just waiting on the shelf
For a fool to walk in a find them?
But it seems that spending all our time in the
House means that there is not time to spend in the
House, and therefore we cannot assemble
A suitable meal deal that will
Good enough for all who come to the table.
We have argued about meals and snacks
And considered several ready meals, but
There is always an objection from someone.
And so we have no choice but to
Opt for a take-away.
A ready made meal from a dubious
Corner shop, with meat from an
Indeterminate animal smothered in a
Sauce of unknown constituent parts,
With a strong hint of saltiness.
After all, this is what the fools think
Is good for us.

(c) 2ndwitch, 08/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Seven

Today is the day when . . .

Today is the day when the fools give us gifts.
Not wrapped in paper
All gaudy and bright
But in messages complex that we need to sift
To find the inclusion
To find what is right.
Today is the day when the fools give us gifts.

Those who sit in judgement on us
So clearly believe
That their right to control is inherent
And rooted in the privilege
And accident of birth.
Those who hold the reins of power
So clearly believe
That their need for control Is inalienable
And rooted deep,
Deep in their privilege and
The accident of their birth.

So, when we wake on the festival morn,
Excited and expectant with joy newly born,
What will we find 'neath the tree of life,
What presents are there for the wise?
Will we find freedom?
The end of all wars?
Hope for our planet?
The key to the door
That opens onto a world brand new?

But we must not forget that the fools are giving the gifts
And that our lives are their own to control or deny.
We must not forget to take off our caps as the gentry ride by
And to obey all the rules and to keep off the grass.

My wish for us all is the ending of fools,
The capsizing of government and the bending of rules.
My wish is for a world where none know hunger
And few no pain,
Where work is for welfare
And never for gain.

Today is the day when the fools give us gifts
Of empty boxes and dead flowers.

(c) 2ndwitch, 07/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 - Day Six

Today, if there were no fools . . .

If there were no fools
Then the ship would not have sailed.
If there were no ship
Then we would not be in troubled waters.
If there were no troubled waters
Then we would be quietly at home.
If there were no home
Then we might live in another place.
If there were no other place
Then we might be here.
If there were no here
Then we might be thought to be fools.
And if there were no fools . . .

(c)2ndwitch, 06/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Five

Today we vill an elle-ish prospect view.

The sails are set now on this ship of fools
There is no crew and no-one who can steer
For the wisest men are erased by the rules

This ship sails on through dangerous pools
And the passengers dine well on dark and fear
And the sails are set now on this ship of fools

The fools on this ship have no navigation tools
They have no charts or maps by which to steer
And the wisest men are erased by the rules

The fast encroaching dark ship crewed by ghouls
Draws inexorably onwards closer ever near
And the sails are set now on this ship of fools

Soon the dark ship will engulf the foolish fools
And that faintest hope that the wise men hold so dear
Will see these wisest men erased by the rules

The stars will one by one recede into a formless doom
And the spring and summer lost in the never-ending end of year
For the sails are truly set now on this ship of fools
And the wisest men are erased by foolish rules.

(c) 2ndwitch, 05/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Four

Today is a day of sad fools.

When we were very small
We were told life was a dream
We would soon master it all
And things were just as they seem.
But today when we went to our house
There was water where water should not be.
Last night we had our hackles were roused
And late hours delayed when we were set free.

We do this job
For ourselves
And for the country
We live in,
But the two aims
Are now so far apart
We can no longer
Reconcile them.

Today the ship of fools left the harbour.
Today they set sail with no charts.
Today the fools stepped to the brink
Of the unknowable abyss,
The chasm of unpredictable future
Watered by the mistakes of the past,
And warmed by the infernos of
The hatred and misery
That the fools deliberately created.

(c) 2ndwitch, 04/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Three

Today we recount the life of a fool.

Born into an old house, resplendent with dark polished oak,
And burnished silver, dancing light from oil lanterns
Scurried and hurried to carry the news.
Raised in an old nursery, where nanny was starched and stiffened,
And her breathing played a backing track to a life
Of isolated privilege.
Taught in an old school, with masters whose gowns carried chalk
And blackboard rubbers in the swinging sleeves,
And who wielded a ready cane.
Educated in an old university, where the polished oak was sported
Or not, and where the days were spent on the river,
And reading was a rare thing.
Employed in an old trade, where discipline was exercised
Exactly as it had been by nanny in the old nursery,
And privilege was essential.

The old ways of the fool have meandered from pillar to post
Over many years, decades, even centuries of traditions that
Have lead to the day when the fool is in charge.
And then the fool is the one who considers all others
To be fools, and who laughs behind the closed doors of
And old and corrupted way of not living.

(c) 2ndwitch, 03/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Two

Today is a day of questions.

Have the fools yet left the house?
Have the fools come to a conclusion?
Have the fools decided?
Have the fools yet left the house?

In this world of sunshine and showers
Where grass is growing
And the magnolia is about to burst into bloom,
In this world of rolling traffic
And buses that stop
To let people on or off,
Or off or on,
In this world, why are there fools?

April is a foolish month.
Perhaps it is the month
When the flying pasta lord,
The monster of spaghetti ,
Was Born, or rather, extruded?
Perhaps it is the month
When little lambs leap
And play in sporting oblivion?
Perhaps it is the month
When the non-foolish ones
Will allow sense to surface
And demolish the house of fools?

Or perhaps it is not?

(c) 2ndwitch, 02/04/19

GloPoWriMo2019 Day One

Today is a day of fools.

We are told, from early in our lives,
To listen when someone is talking to us,
To take notice,
To do as we are told.
We are told, from early in our lives,
That they know what they are doing,
That they will do their best,
That they know what is best for us.

So why do I think they are wrong?
Why do I think I should never have listened?
Why do they keep ignoring common sense?
Why am I so worried?

I was told, I was instructed, that privilege
And education fitted those who had them
For a role in charge of life.
I was told, I was instructed, that those
Who were privileged and educated
Knew better than the rest and
Had a duty to be in charge of life.

The old order has broken.
We should no longer listen.
We should take notice only to oppose.
We should challenge.
We should disobey.

There is no new order,
And the ship of fools
Has left the harbour
And taken all sense with it.
We are alone and betrayed.
We believed in the fools.

(c) 2ndwitch, 01/04/19