The Painted Lady by Oliver Fisher

The Painted Lady by Oliver Fisher

On a walk to clear the mind,
Leave the kids, refuel on food.
Her bunnet slouches, kind of rude,
Cuff links cuffed and tie done up.

She bears a face-covering
That blankets the soul in this self inflicted
Unprecedented yet pre-predicted
Predicament she finds herself in

The boy next door is out of touch,
Clueless, dumb and unaware.
She paints her face and sternly stares,
Lying, in her underwear.

Her house is tatty, not a home.
Hollow hallways, stagnant air.
A dusty phone, nicotine stained,
Hasn’t rung and she doesn’t care.

In the mirror, facial warping.
Tears are falling upside down
And drowning in her dressing gown
Has got to be safer than walking.

If only she’d the luck of others,
Lucky them and their reflection.
Brittle brushes scratch her skin
And Mother’s hair fades thin in sections.

Her trolley trundles forward slowly,
Those coat pockets feel so cosy,
The boy next door is getting nosy
But bony bones make her feel lonely.

On a walk to break the mind,
Starving Mother, smiling child.
Her head is bald, bare faced grin.
Standing, naked, in the light.

Oliver Fisher



[An uproar or commotion, or a minor row of sorts]

Here’s a word of which the English may be unaware
One of those obscure terms which we might share
It’s used to describe a row or a commotion
An argument with signs of stirred emotion

It’s not quite as serious as all-out war
And any fisticuffs we would deplore
More like a skirmish of the verbal kind
Where opponents are readily maligned

Stooshies can arise at any time or place
Sometimes only two contenders face to face
At others the arena is on a grander scale
Unparliamentary language used opponents to impale

A cause celebre might well a stooshie generate
Or some long-held grudge cause others to berate
Or perhaps just even some minor irritation
The trigger for much unnecessary vexation

Stooshies, perhaps depending on the situation
May be of short or quite prolonged duration
Perpetual stooshies are really a vendetta
Likened to the plot of some tragic operetta

Stooshies, on the whole, are best avoided
Deep divisions thus remain unexploited
Endeavour to ignore all discourse acrimonious
Conducting your affairs with speech harmonious

Ken Fisher

The Motherboard by Oliver Fisher

The Motherboard by Oliver Fisher

A new kind of special, previously familiar
But long since discovered and lived.
Lived fully, to live and move on and be-
happy as Larry and Larry is happy…
When he’s with you.

And in the easter hay, the sun
Reveals a light that brightens none
But turned against itself and won
The dream is had by one more than one.

An entangled tunnel of twists and turns
That strangle the current and commit forceful expansion.
But I’m relaxing and peaceful, blissful tears are streaming…
As the years are passing.

I’ll pour out the old sludge from my blue rusty bucket
Polish and dust so a new reflection reflects
I need to care, I’m done saying **** it-
Click into place and my network connects.

Oliver Fisher

Vaccination Frustration

Vaccination Frustration

Have you not yet had that call?
To turn up at surgery or hall
Ready with your arm laid bare
At your age It’s only fair

But are you waiting for the call?
Abiding by the protocol
Not trying to skip the queue
Stoical but feeling blue

The government tells us to keep calm
A short delay will do no harm
But even those who’ve had jab one
Demand jab two be quickly done

So all this amounts to much frustration
Pent-up demand throughout the nation
The powers that be do sympathize
Preferring we don’t criticise

But we are told to bide our time
Eventually it’ll all be fine
The experts know what they are doing
To avert the threats that might be brewing

No gloomy thoughts should dominate
Some slight delay should not frustrate
Don’t sit at home and darkly brood
Try to adopt a cool Zen mood

Ken Fisher

Indigo Dreams by Oliver Fisher

Indigo Dreams by Oliver Fisher

A moment, as tense as taught string,
Has passed in an instant, not worth remembering.
But am I forgetting? Or are dreams
Materialised in such ways that make them Immune to remembrance, in the first place.

To find a place and call it home,
Where sinking deep is easy but drowning people scream and moan.
The rippled water waits adjourned
And slanted paragraphs reborn
As we find home in place: unknown

My phone is loud and trees are sprouting,
Kids are shouting, people floating-
Yet no peace.
No sense of equilibrium restored,
Half the population bored
And everyday, children bored
From weeping mothers, bound by cord.

The way the world is run has changed,
Days that come are rearranged,
Familiar faces and places estranged
As those we know escape their cage

For-longing they were but
Time has passed,
Seas coagulate and congeal so fast
Brighter days don’t seem to amass
When in the shadow of God, we turn to crass.

So roots in grass lay still and flourish,
Duck the radar, eternal internist,
And if you seek then you shall find
And hold a place with me in earnest.

Oliver Fisher

Hail to the (new) Chief

Hail to the (new) Chief


The trumpet sounds across the pond
Echoes redound far beyond
The world’s eyes focus on the States
As relieved citizens inaugurate

A new regime is ushered in
A different era thus begins
Farewell to number forty-five
Forty-six will surely strive

To bring health amidst so much distress
Renewed concord to express
Bind up the wounds of four years passed
Speeches that would flabbergast

Let the tone be moderation
Action to unite the nations
Amidst a world beset with strife
Policies to enhance all lives

Hail to the Chief on this great day
May you be blessed, come what may
Expectantly the world awaits
Direction from United States

Ken Fisher

What does It Matter – Now?

What Does it Matter – Now?


What does it matter if you failed to win prizes
And never achieved even modest success
If your daily life produced no surprises
Few are the assets that you now possess

What does it matter if you gained no promotion
While others soared up to the giddy heights
You’re never aspired to swim the wide ocean
Or with the astronauts take a space flight

What does it matter if your artistic talent
Rarely succeeded the audience to thrill
No masterpiece came from your colour palette
No musical charms from your keyboard skills

What does it matter if you had no literary flair
Writing and poetry not your natural gift
Turgid plots, obscure verses simply made you despair
And to operatic arias you gave short shrift

What does it matter if you struggled with maths
History and geography left you equally cold
Failed to conquer science’s complex paths
And foreign grammar left you appalled

What does it matter if you never were famous
You didn’t progress to a dazzling career
People might claim you were rather aimless
A somewhat boring existence from year to year

Well this litany seems a little depressing
Life does matter, and we all must strive
To make the most of our gifts and our blessings
Above all the gift of this wonderful life

And we should not offer this lame excuse
That nothing matters in life when surely it must
Because we know in our heart that this is the truth
And to defect from that fact is a breach of our trust

Yes, it does matter, as we value each day
The moment provides us the opportunity
In small acts of love, and kind words we say
Together to build true community

And especially now in this pandemic year
As we mourn the loss of a settled past
Grant us the courage to set aside fear
Hold hope in our hearts to remain steadfast

Ken Fisher




Blessing or curse, this cerebral faculty?
That power of reasoning
Taking us beyond other sentient beings
Imagination opening vistas of joy
Or reminiscence of past nightmares

Granting us the capacity to calculate
To build models of reality in our head
Perception prompting motivation
Cogitation before engagement
Reflection after commitment

That power to recall fond memories
Of family life with all its blessings and burdens
Of working life with all its strivings and frustrations
Of social life enhanced by common interest
Of spiritual life and the domain of contemplation

Domicile of the theoretical
Habitation of the speculative
Residence of abstract thought
Cathedral for religion
Library for literature

The arbiter of mental well-being
The warder of imprisoning phobias
But also the herald of anticipation
The lovers’ beating hearts
Visions of united bliss

Blessing or curse, this cerebral faculty?
Vanquished only by dementia or death
In life, no escape from thought
Neither sleep nor meditation
Can purge us of this turbulent force

Ken Fisher

Grandparents by Oliver Fisher


Twice detached yet the closest connection
A mighty rock in a windy world, full of noise
The bond of heritage and DNA that lasts eternally
A reason to be.

Memories from childhood, amplified by your love
Radiate golden positivity that drives me forward
Catalysed by undying support and confidence
Through life.

A tall and long standing relationship
Symbolised by outstretched arms
Ready to embrace and mentor

You are so wise, I idolise
And as I rise I realise
That you’re the rock within
My eyes.

Oliver Fisher

Rhetoric, Spin and Bluff

Rhetoric, Spin and Bluff

Rhetoric, spin and bluff
The stock-in-trade of politicians
Do they really think we will be convinced
By their spurious arguments, distorted statistics
And biodegradable promises of utopia?

It doesn’t seem to matter whether their
Pronouncements are made during the hustings
At the Party Conference, or in a duel on TV
With arrogant political journalists
Determined to draw blood

Why cannot political animals
Ever depart from the Party line?
Are they standing on the brink of deselection
If they were to concede any good in the opposition
Turn their back on received dogma

As Maggie said U turn if you like
“The lady is not for turning”
Thus setting the standard of orthodoxy
Intransigence the greatest virtue
Open mindedness mere surrender

But sometimes ‘events’ are overwhelming
U turns become the necessary fashion
Even di rigueur in times of crisis
And then rhetoric, spin and bluff
Employed in instant justification

Perhaps this sophistry is not
The sole province of parliamentarians
Preachers too, when cornered by the awkward question
Quickly resort to formulaic responses
To justify God’s unexplained absence!

And maybe we are all just the same
We use rhetoric to pump up modest achievements
Spin to explain why you must buy the latest toy or gizmo
And bluff, disguising a brand of white lies
When we are really strangers to the truth

Ken Fisher

At the Threshold of the Year 2021

At the Threshold of the Year 2021


Time is sometimes called the Fourth Dimension
Length, breadth and height the other three
But time can fill our hearts with apprehension
No wonder that it’s often said to flee

‘Tempus fugit ‘ we plead as ready-made excuse
When everyday concerns and never-ending cares
A sense of guilt and failure does induce
Our quest for peace and freedom thus impaired

But time cannot be stalled; its steady progress will not falter
Its march like Roman legions moving ever onward
Along straight roads, their fixed direction does not alter
The army moves in steps that take them ever forward

And so it is that in these dark fading days of late December
As we approach the threshold of yet another year
Thoughts filled with joy and sorrow as we remember
Hopefulness for days ahead but not without our hidden fear

What lies just beyond the gate of this New Year?
We’ve been warned: ‘the past no guide to future performance’
Would life be simpler if the way ahead was clear?
Why do we ever have to seek for reassurance

And this year we move on with trepidation
As 2020 brought challenges unprecedented
In 2021 our hopes rest in an effective vaccination
And that Brexit may not leave us discontented

And so as we peer into the void beyond this New Year’s Day
We simply must accept that unlike length or breadth or height
The realm of time brings with it ‘come what may’
Our prayer remains that faith and hope will bring us light

And so my friend step onward with a steady pace
Give thanks for many blessings in the past
Let love for life and all mankind your heart embrace
And to God’s providence our trust remain steadfast

Ken Fisher