Odd Poems

THE CHANGING YEAR

 

Years aren’t what they used to be,

Or that’s the way it seems to me

The summer’s cold, the winter’s hot,

First spring is here, and then it’s not,

 

I think back, and I shed a tear,

For what has happened to the year?

It’s different – some might say – deranged,

They say the autumn leaf has changed.

 

The well-known sequence – winter, spring,

Summer, autumn – everything

Has altered – the year is down the drain:

Autumn brings us acid rain,

 

The flowers come out far too soon

When they should wait until next June;

Winter’s changed with global warming,

While clouds of GM snow are forming.

 

This random weather really tests

The little birds, who build their nests

Supposing it is spring at last,

When autumn has but barely passed –

 

And then the shops are not the same –

They play this silly changing game:

The foods they sell are out of season –

Imported specially, that’s the reason.

 

Well if they are, then that’s no crime,

But…Easter eggs at Christmastime!?

Oh yes, it’s true, I tell no tales,

Look in the January Sales!

 

Hi-tech pollution – Oh there’s masses! –

And summer brings the greenhouse gasses…

But still, there is no cause for fear,

For life goes on from year to year.

 

Much of the landscape is the same,

Whatever the newspapers claim;

And beauty is still everywhere,

Fields, country lanes, hills – yes, it’s there,

 

Those who discover it will see

 Splendour they thought could never be!

Think how much waits – for you and me –

But…..years aren’t what they used to be.

 

THE MILLENIUM DOME (Remember that?)

 

Near Greenwich once did Tony Blair

A state-run pleasure-dome decree,

Where Thames, the time-worn river ran

Flowing since the world began

Down to the wild North Sea.

 

It was the Tories idea first,

Since, really, one should be fair,

Yes, their idea, maybe their worst

So, if the Labour MPs cursed,

Think – “Poor old Tony Blair!”

 

Though Labour sought to re-align

Itself with those whose iron hand

Had ruled, they heard the Tories whine,

“Please keep the Dome, we think it’s fine,”

So Tony said “But now it’s mine!

And though he changed the whole design –

That’s all that went as planned.

 

They soon forgot the reason why

This so-called Dome was first begun,

And so, when asked to justify

The huge expense, M.P.s said “I

Just simply think it’s fun!”

 

There nearly were some dreadful scenes –

The project, though could not be killed –

And so, to please the tots and teens,

With mad malfunctioning machines,

This edifice was filled.

 

Divided into zones, it would,

Though, be politically correct,

Providing, for the public good,

 Such pleasures as the people could –

So Tony thought – expect.

 

But poor old Tony made a mess

Of things upon the opening night,

Excluding nearly all the press,

An error he could not redress,

And never could put right.

 

Did it surpass in glory quite,

The year our dear Queen took the throne?

The Coronation’s splendid sight?

Its pomp and pageantry and might?

Yet, when the Dome was at its height,

It boasted just one single sight –

Queues for the Body Zone.

 

Though meant at first to celebrate

The passing of two thousand years,

Displays of what made Britain great,

Were called by some too out-of-date,

But saying that, sealed the Dome’s sad fate.,

Since none now knew what to create,

In order to commemorate,

This special and important date,

And though M.P.s stayed up till late,

Engaged in furious debate,

They found themselves in such a state,

As these few lines serve to relate,

It ended all in tears.

 

 

—000—

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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