Holiday from Reality

Holiday from Reality

 

Let’s take a holiday from harsh reality
Why does a poem have to make any sense?
Give us a break from stark rationality
And enter the realm of shameless pretence

Carried along on the wings of a reverie
Let the mind wander wherever it will
Untrammelled by thoughts drawn from memory
Wild imagination’s notions distill

Be unafraid of spewing gobbledegook
Readers can wrestle to tease out meaning
Never attempting to fashion a book
Rarely to clear understanding appealing

Resorting always to simile and metaphor
Word pictures made mysteriously opaque
Language displayed in patterns irregular
Understanding rendered disturbingly vague

Why should the poet set the agenda?
The reader must surely make what they will
Sifting the verses to find what they render
In time their quest it will surely fulfil

So sit back and relax let the poem transport
Our thoughts to wherever they come to rest
Each word and line become its own passport
To the message the writer would therein express

Ken Fisher

A Poem of Fewer Words

A Poem of Fewer Words

 

Too many words spilling out from a poem
Cascading over each other like foam
On turbulent sea waves
Our thought enslaves

Too many images flooding the mind
So many notions unconfined
Prolixity quite unbound
Doth confound

Let us with the words dispense
At least try them to condense
In the vacant space
Calm, replace

Ken Fisher

 

 

Black Friday 2018

Black Friday 2018

Black Friday is about to dawn
Indeed it seems never to have gone
This mad scramble for bargains
Gives birth to rugby scrums in shopping malls
And melt-down on computer networks
As search engines and eager bargain-hunters
Hit the town centres and the web browsers

I wonder if this whole exercise has some cathartic purpose
Pent-up emotions being released in some orgasmic frenzy
But who stirred up the desire in the first place?
Did we harbour some deep repressed longing to buy, buy, buy
Or was it the wiles and blandishments of the advertisers
On behalf of the retailers in their constant quest for profit
Who ensured that we would not remain lethargic

Well whoever is to blame, ourselves or the market place
We are assured that Friday will produce record-breaking turnover
Shops may be crammed with customers
And the on-line trade will ensure the white-van army
Of delivery agents will shift the goods from anonymous
Warehouses up and down the land, to your door and mine
And we will jump for joy at the ring on our door bell!

And this year when traditional retailers seem under threat
Perhaps this annual rugby scrum of hungry consumers
Will bring comfort to those who our high streets would save
Remind the great shopping public that the internet offers no
Tactile experience as they wrest coveted goods from fellow buyers
Let’s hope it might renew interest in the whole shopping experience
Heralding a rebirth as we celebrate traditional Nativity

Happy Christmas
Happy shopping!

Ken Fisher

No Sign of it There

No Sign of It There

 

No sign of it there, we have to concede
Our searches so far are of little avail
It looks as if we will not succeed
All our diligence simply will not prevail

No sign of it there, where can it have gone?
We’re sure that it’s somewhere that we can discover
If we keep on seeking, then before very long
The missing treasure we might soon recover

No sign of it there, is it worth so much trouble
Do we really need that illusive possession
Would its retrieval require a life-threatening struggle
Why let our quest be a consuming obsession?

No sign of it there, but why does it matter
We can live without it, or that is the rumour
When they hear what ‘s lost there will be no laughter
For sadly what’s missing is our sense of humour

Ken Fisher

Blow Your Own Trumpet

Blow Your Own Trumpet

Get noticed
Blow your trumpet
Really loud and clear

Be not ashamed
Surely you have
Not anything to fear

In a crowded world
You must attempt
To alert the auctioneer

To make your bid
For a fair share
Of all that might appear

Life’s opportunities
Come up for grabs
At any time of year

And you should not
Escape the chance
Through diffidence or fear

So take a deep breath
Purse those lips
Then blast it in their ear!

Ken Fisher

Small Talk and Loose Talk

Small Talk and Loose Talk

In the War we used to say that
‘Loose talk Costs lives’
But today it has been claimed that
Small talk can Save lives’
 

Now loose talk and small talk are
Not quite the same.
Loose talk might lead to people
Being put in danger by giving
Secrets to the ‘enemy’
 

Small talk is simply gentle chatter
That seeks to break the ice
between strangers or casual acquaintances
And small talk may lift people out of danger
When they are on the point of harming themselves

So let’s resolve to eschew modern loose talk
Which might simply amount to gossip
Tittle-tattle that is little less than
Character assignation by the unbridled tongue
The half-truth, the vague innuendo or sweeping generalisation

In its stead let’s espouse small talk
Which rather than being merely superfluous
Helps to establish connections, build bridges
Promote friendship and concord
And might even save the anxious soul from themself

Ken Fisher

Hunker Down

Hunker Down

 

Ever feel tempted to just hunker down
When the world around is wearing a frown?
So much is happening that is not to my taste
To a place of refuge I need to make haste

But where can I hide when there is so much to fear?
No place of safety seems to be near
Unless I intend to get out of town
The only choice left is to hunker down

But what are all those menacing threats
That raise the pulse and bring on the sweats
Where does that bogeyman reside
Show yourself – why must you hide?

Perhaps the spectre is all in my head
Fears from the past, long since dead
So why any need to crouch and to cringe
When on my peace they no longer impinge?

The problem today is we are too wide-awake
Newsfeeds from the media drag us in their wake
In every tragedy we must participate
The press conspires to make this our fate

But what are these fears which strike at the heart
And our reasonable thoughts will thus distort?
Some might be just a mere irritation
Others undermining the whole blessed nation

So forebodings about an impending malady
Aches and pains that we claim are agony
Through to major concerns about Brexit
Which politicians are likely to fix it?

Then there are concerns for the life of the planet
And climate change perhaps leading to havoc
Debates about trade bring on endless haggling
Can so easily end up with loud sabre rattling

At the personal level, heavy debt brings on much tension
Finding a job, a home, and affording a pension
So no wonder we feel quite overwhelmed
To take some evasive action we are thus compelled

But if at the end of the day there is no easy cure
The vagaries of life we must simply endure
Hunkering down for the immediate duration
Our only response to a dire situation

But let’s not allow ourselves to get too depressed
And with our problems become quite obsessed
In due time dark clouds are bound to blow over
We will rise from the hunker and regain composure

Ken Fisher