Piper - Oscar Milde


That bloody Mayor, he promised me
three bags of silver, newly minted,
and maybe willing girls, he hinted,
if I would only guarantee
to rid the Town of rats, posthaste.
He said the word “Rats” with distaste.

I played my pipe: a tempting tune
of sharpish sharps and flattish flats
that has a certain way with rats.
Hypnotic notes: no rat’s immune,
those furry critters bobbed and swayed
and when I played they all obeyed

and followed me along the bank
into the water, flowing fast.
I drowned them all down to the last
and waited till each damn rat sank
then went right back to see the Mayor.
The wretched rascal wasn’t there.

He’d fled and taken all the cash.
The Council said, Can’t help ya, bud.
I swore I’d pay them back in blood.
They threatened me with fists and lash
so I pulled out my pipe again
and played a new tune tinged with pain.

This time it was the kids, not rats,
that followed to my piping notes:
wild laughter sprang from childish throats.
I stole them all, those little brats.
I led them off. Hid them away.
You hire the Piper, best to pay.

Oscar Milde

Last Tuesday 1942 - Tony Gardner

Hans was here last Tuesday
He came in to talk with me
He spoke about his mother
Back on the farm in Germany
I saw a tear as he talked of home
And sipped his warm, weak tea.

He told of his life before the hate
And the madness caught alight
How as a bewildered sixteen-year-old
He was called from the farm to fight
After a while he left for the cliffs
Of Torteval last Tuesday night.

Early on Wednesday morning
I heard the English bombers fly
I heard their deadly discharge
Hit the cliffs, and all the sky
Was bright with those fatal flashes
Which ask not "Who?" or "Why?"

Hans was here last Tuesday
Where is his spirit now ?
I hope his gentle country soul
Is back behind his plough
Back on his farm in a peaceful world
Where the war can't touch him now.

Tony Gardner

Thirsty Work - Joan Etoile

It's thirsty work this poetry
and I forgot to ask
if it was ok to take a nip
from my trusty old hip-flask

I couldn't wait for the interval
I was parched, dry as a bone
Dylan Thomas lives in me
and makes me drink alone

I'm sorry that I caused a fuss
and my drinking was not condoned
I see it was poems that they meant
when they said bring your own

Joan Etoile

Open Mic - Les Douvres - 22nd October 2018


Great News - The Open Mic is back on.

Adam has secured Les Douvres on the 22nd October for our Open Mic.

Open Mic Evening - Monday 24th September 2018

20:00 hrs - 22:00 hrs
Les Douvres, St. Martin, Guernsey
The 'Non-compulsory' theme is; 'Question Mark'
The guest musician is; 'TBC'

The Chair - Diane Scantlebury

Look past the chair
And see the man,
With no functioning legs
He can’t stand,
Don’t assume just because
There’s no mobility,
That he has no brain
Or little ability,

See the man
Don’t look at the chair,
Or walk past and ignore him
Don’t pretend he’s not there,
The man is intelligent
Although his limbs may be weak,
That man has a tongue
And is able to speak.

Diane Scantlebury

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