Deaf NOT Daft

Dappled conversations

Confusing to the ear

Brightly tinkling chatter

Dull, no longer clear

 

Silent slippery sentences

Using lips to lend a clue

Shattered to staccato

Once they’re not in view

 

Sorry, I didn’t catch that

Say it once more, please

I’m deaf not daft, but sadly

Words are like Swiss cheese

Forming Opinions

If opinion is divided,

Consensus not in sight.

Head and heart may disagree,

But both cannot be right

 

Bring to bear one measure;

The final acid test.

Belief may be convincing,

But evidence is best.

 

Never Being Wrong

Know for certain this one fact

However surely you may act

There is a chance you may be wrong

Perhaps should sing a different song

 

Know this too, for it is true

Some about, loyal to you

Politely as you ply your view

Consider this as nothing new

 

Stop the Deaths

It has to stop; it serves no end

Except to fuel a relentless trend

Religious difference, sectarian strife

Cannot justify taking life

 

We are all people, making our way

Our differences don’t give cause to slay

Calm hot tempers, counsel care

Terrorism leads nowhere.

The UK General Election

A cross put on a paper

Seems simple in a way

Amazing, then, that this small act

Empowers each to have a say

 

The outcome isn’t as I’d hoped for

I’m quite worried by the result

But I can accept the majority view

That’s what it means to be adult

 

Some people see it differently

Wanting to impose a new regime

Cars, bombs and knives as weapons

Murdering to achieve their dream

 

Let them not take away our rights

Hold our laws and freedoms dear

They must not win by violence

We will not live in fear

 

If society is built on values

With some common moral code

Life and liberty are the bedrock

And democracy the road

A Fundamental Truth

 

dark sky

We knew it was to happen

Somewhere within a crowd

More terror visited uselessly

To try to make us cowed

 

The carnage and the mayhem

The tragic loss of life

This time a home-made IED

Last time a car and knife

 

What sort of mind can plan this

How mad must someone be

To be a bomb, a murderer

A lunatic running free

 

This cause cannot be justified

Though perhaps I waste my breath

There is no place in paradise

Secured through others’ death

 

 

 

 

Budapest’s House of Terror

A corner building, grey and stark

Casts terror in its shadow

And evil’s chill lingers still

From times, not long ago

 

Ghastly crimes committed here

Repelling, but so real

With torture’s sound, below ground

To bring people under heel