2020 Vision - Joan Etoile

Such an act of brilliant trickery
Of this tiniest island state
To elevate itself beyond pinprickery
And punch way above its weight

Because - we built the steps of cathedrals
And were visited by Saints from Rome
Our Duke controlled old Mercia
And Hugo called it home

The Führer was besotted
By the gem in the silver sea
They were our darkest hours
Until we were all set free

Great times then came upon us
Wealth that we still see
From money, fruit and flowers
All free of VAT

But now we're like dumbwalkers
Staring at our phones
We can't decide on progress
Or hiding in our homes

Once there were great leaders
Who ordered quays and reservoir
But to build the Route Militaire today
Would surely be a Bridge too far

Maybe in 2020
Our vision will be so
And we'll only vote for deputies
Who'll make this island grow

Joan Etoile

Just Living For Today - Lyndon Queripel

When I find myself in the open
And I can’t hide away
Surrounded by words I’ve spoken
With nothing left to say
I won’t think about tomorrow
Forget about yesterday
I’ll take the time I can borrow
And I’ll be on my way
Just living for today

When I find myself alone
With no one there at all
Like another rolling stone
Where love is just a fall
I won’t think about tomorrow
I’ll hang up on the call
Leave behind my sorrow
Back in the shadow play
Just living for today

When I find myself at last
At first or in between
All the places that I’ve passed
And the faces that I’ve seen
I won’t think about tomorrow
Or what I might have been
I was not born to follow
And I didn’t mean to stay
Just living for today.

Lyndon Queripel

Psycho ... (Mummy’s Boy) - Tony Bradley

When I get home these days, I've got the same laments
that my mother often croaked.
"Oh,let me get these stupid shoes off...
bloody rain, I'm tired and soaked!"

Or, sometimes, I just THINK, things she'd say
it's weird, because, for Heaven's sake
She wasn't a good Mother, we were never that close
it just seems a very hard bond to break.

Am I morphing into my Mother? Heaven forbid!
"What a day, I'm as tired as can be...
and that stupid assistant,... be an angel
get your Mum a cup of tea."

Tony Bradley

Holding Hands - Diane Scantlebury

We still hold hands
You and I,
In quiet affirmation
Of our affection,
A gentle squeeze,
Nothing ostentatious
In any way,
Just a discrete
Silent, public display,

We still kiss ‘good night’
And again,
In the morning
When we awaken,
Nothing over amorous,
A gentle peck,
Neither of us wishing
Each other for granted
To be taken,

Holding hands
Down leafy, dark lanes,
Sometimes together
We’ll walk,
And just occasionally
You’ll try to
Encourage me to skip,
But I’ll laugh and refuse
Then hold on even tighter,
In case upon the rough tarmac
I might trip,

We still hold hands
You and I,
Because we’re comfortable,
Not caring
What others think,
A gentle squeeze,
Or a loving peck
Will haul us happily back,
On miserable days
From sorrow’s brink.

Diane Scantlebury

Lycanthrophilia - Edgar Allan Poet

In straitjacket and padded cell,
I struggle when the full moon calls.
The doctors say I am unwell.
I hurl myself against the walls
till, gradually, my lupine howl
dies down into a weary growl.

At other times, I am a man
and therefore I must integrate
with other men as best I can:
a human beast, approximate.
But, in my heart, the wolf-pack cry
commands me so I must comply.

There are no mirrors in this place
but I discern, in my mind’s eye,
the snarl upon my stricken face
whenever nurses happen by.
To murder would not be a sin:
I am a wolf in human skin.

Edgar Allan Poet