Poem of the Month: November 2010

Murder



Dead wasp
The dead wasp lies on the window sill
Striped, articulated, pantechnicon.
And empty of its buzzing, clockwork will,
A hollow case, all angry life has gone.
It stung; I admit to being quite unmanned,
Retaliating with a book of verse,
The Four Quartets first came to hand,
My finger’s sore, I know the wasp feels worse.
I put aside remaining childish fright,
And creep to where the murder victim fell,
No gentle exit into that good night,
It is already in time past, a shell.
If this is Death, this rugby-shirted thing,
I fear thee still; I know whereof thy sting!

© James Nash 2010

Poem of the Month: October 2010

Those low-down democracy blues



David Cameron and Nick Clegg
There is no democracy. We are owned
By media moguls and off-shore banks;
Universal suffrage, it seems just loaned,
Lies beneath the treads of advancing tanks.
There is no democracy. I can’t find
A trace, cut down and poisoned at its roots,
Where government has a single cast of mind,
Those egregious, smirking boys in suits.
So out of control are these selfish ones,
They would close anything that they don’t use,
Attack the vulnerable, blame all their sins
On the hapless, helpless who cannot choose.
There is no democracy. Money rules,
Our rights eroded, we’ve been had for fools.

© James Nash 2010