Spider’s Feast - Diane Scantlebury

Captured in a cruel web
Her lurid wings flutter fast,
As she struggles hard against her fate
Body arched, the throes of death to wait,

No more to soar up to the heights
No more dancing around flowers aflame,
By curiosity drawn to her own demise
And to be a spider’s feast is such a shame,

Like her we’re here on borrowed time
A chance to shine for what it’s worth,
Drawn as moths around life’s flame
In our brief last dance upon this earth.

Diane Scantlebury

Jaws - Adam Clayton

the machine's jaws are 80 foot wide
busy gathering scraps, we crouch inside
flesh is ground up, transformed into paste
gratefully we ensure there's no waste
life on the edge is what we live out
some crumbs are that rich there's a risk of gout

assisting dental care, out of harm's way
we're living toothpicks with offcuts for pay
the machine consumes vast orders of meat
avoiding destruction is such a treat
picking fangs together, we're a right pair
working away, we get our fair share

Adam Clayton

Freedom Road - Ian Duquemin

I walked along a country road
Where I met an unknown friend
He'd travelled many, many miles
His journey had no end
I said "I'd like to join you...
Just nod if you'll agree"
He whispered in a soft tone
"The road ahead is free"

I said "This may sound crazy...
But I don't know who I am!
No one seems to know me...
Not many give a damn"
My friend he looked me in the eyes
Said "You have a soul that's true...
The only friend you need right now...
Is one that walks with you"

I listened to the silence
As if to ease my mind
I'd come in search of freedom
A place so hard to find
While heading t'wards the setting sun
The sky above turned red
"If you wake to see it rise again...
You're there!" my new friend said

We came upon a mountain
My feet were worn and tired
My eyes looked to the summit
I felt instantly inspired
The steps that raised us skyward
Left footprints on the ground
"We'll leave them there" my good friend said
"For others freedom bound"

And when we reached the heavens
We gazed upon our miles
Our journey ended silently
A hug, a nod, and smiles
He carried on his own way
We'll meet again sometime
Until then I shall journey on
This freedom road of mine

Ian Duquemin

Monumental Blunderings - Donald Keyman

In the land of monumental blunders, we need more public art
to celebrate our illustrious past, but really, where to start?
A donkey in the harbour? well yes I thought it wrong,
though the way they park the Condor, it wouldn't have lasted long.

I've looked all over Europe, and great statues I have seen
some so fine and noble, and others a bit obscene
in Jersey they've a monument, of people dancing free;
the silent Guernsey obelisk gives the finger, doncha see?

There's a big fish, up in Belfast, made of toilet tiles
it is a bit bizarre, but it raises many smiles
Edinburgh has Greyfriars Bobby, he moves the crowd to tears;
So what fantastic gewgaw could ideally grace our piers?

What about a massive chancre, cast in solid bronze?
(ignore the spider lovers, who would say that it was wrong)
Perhaps a bust of Len and Enid, or a lifelike Stone de Croze
Or maybe a popular deputy, in suitably statesmanlike pose?

Google "famous Guernsey people", and it will tell you this -
The most renowned donkey was a chap called Roy Dotrice
But delve a little deeper, there's Sir Isaac, famous for war
and his brother Daniel, who stayed to practise law

If we widen our net still further, to those from overseas
inevitably we find that author, of "Toilers of the Sea"
another statue of Hugo? well I know that he's the best
but surely now it must be time, to give the guy a rest?

There has to be a figure, who would justify the work
Calm down, hold your horses, I don't mean Maurice Kirk -
No this guy was a local legend, he was permanently peed
Yes - let's have a colossal statue - of the actor Olly Reed!

Donald Keyman

PS
I don't really care what they do, it'll brighten up our day
as long as this poor ol' taxpayer doesn't have to pay...

 

Kingfisher - Trudie Shannon

The kingfisher,
A blur of iridescent blue and orange,
Hovered like some predatory humming bird
A hands breadth above the slow incoming tide,
Which swirled itself into eddies, a dancer searching for space.
And the kingfisher, seemingly caught in some invisible net
Or maybe just encapsulated in a bubble of air,
Was as still as fluttering wings allow.
And I was its witness, land heavy and in awe.
It’s departure was swift as if some careless hand had burst the bubble.
Falling like a stone, plunging fearlessly out of the air
And into the water, to emerge seconds later, a silver fish in its beak,
Water droplets falling from its feathers like luminescent rain.
Then it was gone, a blur of iridescent blue and orange
And I, its witness remained land heavy and in awe.

Trudie Shannon