Wednesday, 30 September 2015

Poetry Thursday 180 - Sunderland, Fracking and September 29th #bbcgetcreative

These three poems are almost a commentary on my week. I was subject to another humiliating defeat engineered by Sunderland AFC on Saturday gone; the local TV station is focussing on fracking this week; and, I attended an interesting session on God, Creativity and Me.

Image result for Sunderland's disastrous season

For Sunderland Fans

It’s never been easy but we’ve hit a new low.
Yet they expect us to pay when we choose to go.
It should be free then if things are bad,
we can leave the SoL without feeling sad,
at the waste of money, time and energy
in the vain hope of a crushing victory.
That’s the thing you see
there’s a hidden driver in us all,
in spite of lots of poor football,
because we’re born close to the Wear
for Sunderland AFC we have to appear.
There was a time when going was fun,
it seemed that every match played we won,
but that was at the old ground - Roker Park
when going with me dad was a Saturday lark.
But along with the red bricks of the stands
the team’s form drifted as the sea takes the sand.
There I go once more hoping perhaps not in vain,
that things will turn once again
to winning ways and a higher place
in the Premier League title race.
© David L Atkinson September 2015

Image result for what the frack

What the frack?

It makes my blood boil,
when humans motivated by profit,
permit poisons in the soil
to extract filthy lucre for their wallet.
Earth needs no encouragement to have the shakes,
it trembles and shifts freely,
but fracking, a mixer it creates -
those trembles occur daily.
Authorities hide complaints and facts,
cooking up their own excuses,
hiding truths so they can frack
screwing wealth from the Earth without consequences.
© David L Atkinson September 2015

Image result for tuesday

Tuesday September 29th

Car headlights diffused yellow by the grey, wet curtain,
an impenetrable  blanket whose purpose is to conceal goals.
A short stop and step into the cool blue shared by many souls,
all striving to achieve the target - some will miss.

To return to warmth and a satisfied glow,
to the exciting, verdant application ability,
producing the statements you hope flows
linked to anticipation of a talk producing frivolity.

A quiet period of solitude and invented scheming
hiding away in the artistry of others.
Deriving pleasure from the creators dreaming,
closing out the mundane of sisters and brothers.

To return to warmth and a satisfied glow,
to the exciting, verdant application ability,
producing the statements you hope flows
linking to the successes of creativity.

Then off to the house shared by all,
a select, amorphous group of friends,
bent on exploring the divine immortal,
with mixed media, chatter and pens.

The day ends with the rising moon,
massive in the clear, autumn, night sky,
to go to bed for sleep comes soon,
reflecting on me, God and creativity.

© David L Atkinson September 2015

God Bless