Big Plans - Joan Etoile

I worried about my Guernsey boys
Spending so much money on new toys
With them it's all "want, want, want"
That's why they traded in their little punt
For a nice big boat without a sail
What use is that when the engine fails?

Now they've asked for their inheritance
Though they said it was only "bants"
It seems they want to extend their drive
In case more people should arrive
I said they won't come, not when they twig
That your house is not so big

But they keep going on about their plan
How they could park a bigger van
They're even paying one of their mates
To find out who offers the best rates
Well at least someone will see some lolly
From my children's stupid folly!

Joan Etoile

The Beggar - Ian Duquemin

A beggar came calling, he knocked on my door
I swear I'd not known of a beggar so poor
I may not have much but I've got quite a lot
I guess I'm content with the little I've got
I broke him some bread, shared a bottle of wine
I gave him a coat that was comfortably mine
He thanked me and smiled, then he went on his way
A little more richer than he was yesterday

Ian Duquemin

Childhood - Tony Bradley

I was on the beach again, soon after dawn
just mooching, beach-combing, had a little jog.
Sitting on the sand, I re-enacted a game
that we used to play, when I was a sprog.

I made a pyramid of stones, with a tall one, on top
balanced, so it would have little resistance
I moved well away, with stones to throw
it seemed a bit cocky, quite a distance.

Anyway, I lobbed one, just to stretch my arm
to get the range, you know, casually tossed it
I only whacked it, sent it tumbling
I quit, swaggered home, I haven't lost it.

Tony Bradley

Goodbye, Victor Tango - Stephen A. Roberts

Image: Facebook - Joey & Friends - The Trislander Appreciation Page

You were a punky little thing in 1977;
and your snarling youth
never really left you,
even as you grew old and settled into
a life of loyal service.

How many glorious days did you soar into the air,
your island realm spread out before you -
and in those moments
all thoughts of life in Joey's shadow
were drowned out
by your own
triple-engined drone.

Now it is time to be pensioned off, and after
one last hurrah in Sarnian skies
you head for Duxford
dipping your wings
in farewell;
Goodbye, Victor Tango.

Stephen A. Roberts

Black Wave - Richard Fleming

The sea is like a black-edged card.
Oil creeps in on a rising tide,
announcing doom: another spill.
As stricken seabirds, petrified,
lurch over rocks or huddle still
awaiting death, their feathers tarred.
Black fingers reach into our lives.
A tanker, carelessly maintained,
managed by fools, ineptly crewed,
has left our waters grossly stained.
When rich marine life faces crude
and brutish oil, nothing survives.

Behind this little tragedy,
as always, greed and grasping hands.
Voracious men, whose selfish world
is ruled by bankers’ brusque commands,
care nothing for the curses hurled
by we who toil beside the sea
to rescue one or two or three
fouled victims from spoiled habitat.
While many thousand birds have died,
survivors surely wonder that
this nurturing, sustaining tide
became, today, their enemy.

Richard Fleming