Author Archives: thebardofkelvindale.com

Those Who Say

Those Who Say

 

There are those who say that we should listen
As if their advice must be taken as ‘given’
We have our own thoughts, our own opinion
Why must others’ views still take dominion?

There are those who say we are too overweight
And serious ill health will be our fate
There are those who say we spend far too much
And too-ready credit has become our crutch

There those who warn us of climate change
And soon its control will be out of range
There are those who say the seas will rise
A move to higher ground is wise!

There are those who presage the robot revolution
Threatening every institution
There will be no chance that we might shirk
Due to the disappearance of all work

There are those whose concern is population
As it continues to rise among the nations
There are those who fear mass migration
As refugees seek some safe haven

There are those who say we are over educated
Unemployment making graduates frustrated
And many say they are burdened with a lot of debt
That they will never pay, seems a fair bet

There are those who say getting a roof over your head
Will be hard to achieve before you are dead
Compared to their parents’ rich generation
The millennials often sense their alienation

There are those who claim we are overwhelmed
By too much information, yet we feel compelled
To constantly monitor hand-held devices
Being ‘always on’ – one of our current vices

There are some who claim this is modern slavery
An entrapment which is most unsavoury
We are meant to live in a world that is free
Captive to our screens, we cannot flee

There a those who say politics is in disarray
For many Brexit seems to augur great dismay
And scandals have rocked our institutions
The virtuous loudly cry for retribution

There are even those who say that God is dead
No longer need for prayers beside our bed
The funeral was attended by so very few
Only a tiny remnant there to say adieu

I could go on with this doleful litany
Of pronouncements laden with calamity
But perhaps it is time to call a halt
After all most of this is not our fault

So when someone claims there are those who say
We do not need to be filled with dismay
‘Cause at best it is only their own view
Which we have the choice to espouse or eschew

After all, from whence comes the authority
Of this amorphous, dogmatic entity?
The monopoly of truth is no-one’s possession
All such assertions we should question

Ken Fisher

See also:What Does it Matter? https://thebardofkelvindale.com/2017/12/27/what-does-it-matter/

Poetic Opacity

Poetic Opacity

 

Quote:

‘Opacity is an intrinsic characteristic of some poetry.
It simultaneously enables and complicates reception’
‘As much as we might have enjoyed reading (and writing) poetry when we were children, in school we are taught that poetry is inherently “difficult,” and that by its very nature it somehow makes meaning by hiding meaning.’    Matthew Zapruder (2017)

I wonder if a poem can only be a poem if it’s meaning is opaque?
Anything which is more straightforward is something of a fake
I don’t wish this comment to appear anti-intellectual
Perhaps my simple verses are really somewhat ineffectual

The use of English language, plain,  uncomplicated
Where each word and line of every verse is quite clearly stated
With a minimal use of tropes, metaphor or simile
Helps to convey the meaning with very little difficulty

But lack of figurative language, leaving all things quite literal
Ignores deep emotions, which ‘true’ poetry renders visceral
Thus the absence of oxymoron, hyperbole and allusion
For which bland literalism is no good substitution

But some might claim this is simply all far too transparent
Demands nothing of the reader to plumb its depths inherent
A true poem should stretch the questing mind
To open the eyes which otherwise stay blind

So poems where at first the meaning seems opaque
Where we must wrestle hard thus the hidden code to break
When we are challenged by obscure ideas and expressions
In the end the aesthetic reward is seemingly more precious

I suppose I do not wish to argue the validity of the case
In favour of poetic opacity, which doggerel might debase
But simple words conveying ideas quite transparent
I am still convinced might your close attention warrant

Ken Fisher

 

See also: In Praise of Poetry    Anatomy of Poetry

If Typists Were Poets

Clearing Out

Clearing Out

Every now and again it is time for a purge
To get rid of the clutter that bogs us down
Eventually we cannot resist the strong urge
To remove all the debris that threatens to drown

It may be prompted by the start of a year
Or the realization we are so tight for space
The reason for action is not always clear
But some of our old stuff we have to displace

That we have gathered so much is hard to accept
Some we have been given and others we bought
Whatever the source we don’t like to reject
Thus the choice for removal becomes really fraught

Many items have become like familiar old friends
Others whose use we have still to discover
The retention of some things is hard to defend
Their secret charms we have not yet uncovered

But action is needed we can no longer delay
We must remain firm in our stated intention
To shift unwanted objects the task of the day
So it’s off to the skip with no hesitation

Yet when the clear-out has been executed
And you have resorted to radical measures
All accumulated junk has been duly looted
You cast a wistful tear for departed ‘treasures’

Ken Fisher

Password Perplexity

Password Perplexity

Most of us are aware of the daily frustration
Which often leads to exasperation
When our computers refuse to allow us access
Unless the entry codes we clearly possess

However hard you try to breach the protection
False numbers will always result in rejection
You must know the password and username
Or you wont get past that very first frame

So it seems incumbent on all computer users
To ensure they’re prepared for such maneuvers
By retaining their passwords in some secure cache
And thus seek to avoid an access impasse

If you’ve forgotten the data and just try to wing it
You will be trying to get past the system’s pickets
After several attempts to breach the defences
They will consider you have committed offences

Thus your computer system may well shut down
And it is you who might suffer a complete meltdown
So it is better to take a more measured approach
Let’s you keep using other apps while maintaining hope

So that in due time you might find the right combination
To lift the cause of data deprivation
Get the passwords reset, identity renewed
Bringing an end to this digital feud

Of course we are reminded of the everyday fact
That our machines are in danger of being easily hacked
And the existence of these barriers give vital protection
From cyber thieves acting with evil intention

Ken Fisher

See Also: Cyber Safe

The Assault on Irn Bru

The Assault on Irn Bru

I see, in the press, Irn Bru is to change
Less sugar proposed in this magical mixture
It appears some drinkers it might thus estrange
For whom this beverage has long been a fixture

There is a great history behind this well-loved libation
Without it this nation would seem somewhat deprived
So fiddling the formula produces frustration
Why make these changes, we are quite satisfied?

For more than a century the Scots sought refreshment
From this unique blend of secret ingredients
For quenching their thirst, no better replacement
In bottles or cans it was found so convenient

Of course the years have seen changes in its presentation
Glass bottles by plastic in due course succeeded
And adverts quite often produced a sensation
To rival world brands, whisky almost exceeded

But in order to meet targets for sugar reduction
The makers of Irn Bru now offer a spanking new version
And they claim there should be no dissatisfaction
A switch to the new, a quite painless conversion

But in the meantime some traditionalists are simply stockpiling
Crates of the old brand of their great national drink
The prospect of the new not quite so beguiling
And that’s their opinion despite what anyone thinks

Ken Fisher

Hot Water Bottle

Hot Water Bottle

Between icy sheets your warm body slips
That hot water bottle you cannot resist
Without its heat the harsh cold defying
Bed-time would simply be terrifying

The gentle transfer of heat to the sheets
Thus the terrors of cold we seek to defeat
Although the hot bottle is really quite small
It is so much better than nothing at all

In days of yore they relied on the ‘pig’
Compared to the bottle ever so big
With its shiny surface your feet it might scald
An experience which left no-one enthralled

If the weather outside is very severe
Several bottles would bring even more cheer
Strategically positioning is quite an art
To ensure that they service each body part

Decide how best the bag to employ
Properly used it can bring you much joy
So boil up the kettle, then fill to the brim
And winter bed-time will no longer be grim!

Ken Fisher

see Also:https://thebardofkelvindale.com/2017/01/04/electric-blanket/

New Beginnings

New Beginnings

 

[A sonnet for the New Year]

Another day, a brand new year, we pledge a fresh beginning
Forget the past, it can’t be changed, it’s now gone forever
For our dark deeds we hope you yet will be forgiving
Let our resolve to make amends be the only measure
Yet how often in past days have we promised to reform?
But ere the first month of the year has run its course
No evidence of change that we claimed would be the norm
Somehow we seem a victim of a strong external force
So at the start of this new year let’s wipe the old slate clean
And with firm resolve act without further vacillation
That in all our words and actions prove we truly mean
To live out our promises, more than mere aspiration
Give thanks for new beginnings at this threshold of the year
Confronting every challenge, overcoming all our fear

Ken Fisher

See also: https://thebardofkelvindale.com/2017/12/31/at-the-threshold-of-the-year-2018/

At the Threshold of the Year 2018

At the Threshold of the Year 2018

[A variation on a poem posted last year]

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
It’s 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 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

 

See also : https://thebardofkelvindale.com/2018/01/01/new-beginnings-2/

 

Winter Transformation

Winter Transformation

[Statue of a stag at Dunkeld House Hotel]

 The winter drabness of field and forest
Carpeted by snowflakes within an hour
Outstretched branches given a two-tone finish
Craggy slopes coated like newly iced buns

The river undisturbed in steady progress
Swallows up the chilled precipitation
Its banks, by contrast, rendered glistening white
The fish benignly ignorant of the change

Wild animals observe this monochrome world
With calm composure, their peace undisturbed
Many wisely hibernating in their chosen bower
The larger beasts left to face the icy blast

And we humans, young and old, find
Pleasure and pain in this winter wonder land
The youthful and active gamboling on shiny slopes
The old gratify their worship of hearth and home

Ken Fisher

What Does It Matter?

What Does it Matter?

 

What does it matter if you failed to win prizes
And never achieved even modest success
If your daily life produced no surprises
And 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

Ken Fisher

Small But Beautifully Formed

Small But Beautifully Formed
[Chipolata Sausages]

 

One of the delights of Christmas fare
To me, a treat beyond compare
A diminutive meat dish you must savour
Small but brimming with so much flavour

The chipolata sausage is this treat I treasure
In various forms it can bring pleasure
Pigs in Blankets is one choice variation
Pork wrapped in bacon, a great combination

Some say the chipolata is a ‘finger food’
To describe it thus is no mere platitude
It has an important role we should recognize
Joined with other ingredients to tantalise

For when we refer to turkey with ‘all the trimmings’
We must ensure that nothing significant is missing
Expect carrots, roast potatoes, bread sauce, sprouts and stuffing
But without chipolatas all your efforts yield nothing

When, of the size of the chipolatas, you hear a complaint
Advise the plaintiff  to speak with due restraint
Because with one bite it will their taste buds transform
Full of flavour in a small body that is so beautifully formed!

Ken Fisher

Christmas Morning 2017

 

Christmas Morning 2017

The excitement of anticipation,
Children tip-toeing downstairs
In search of Santa’s bounty
The tearing open of those wrappings
The shrieks of pleasure as the long-awaited
Gifts are exposed

Mum and Dad come to find out if burglars
Have arrived to upset the household
The children squeal with joy as they
Show what Santa has delivered
Parents gasp conspiratorially
Admiring his awareness of all
That had been hoped for

Then the stockings are pillaged
Revealing their cache of treats and sweets
No longer just the time honoured fruit
The current Apple is probably a Mac!

After the intial excitement
Then parents too check to see
What Santa has done for them
In the hope that it might be more than
Socks or hankies – perhaps a spa break
Or a hamper full of goodies!

Then breakfast – don’t eat much
Leave space for the Christmas feast
The full works accompanied by the crackers
With their crafty little jokes – who thinks them up?
Indeed who needs philosophers?
The whole thing kept afloat by your favourite tipple
Remember to drink sensibly – especially the drivers

Traditional TV programmes will compete for those
Whose eyes will be glued to their new iPads and smart phones
The Queen’s inspirational message muffled
By those ears stopped with headphones
Lambasted by the latest gaming wizardry
The traditional phone call to relatives
Superseded by a thousand Tweets, Skypes, Face Time
Or whatever instant messages assail your privacy

Anyway that’s the modern Christmas
And of course not all will celebrate in happy families
Some choosing to be alone, others filled with memories
And yearning for the companions now gone from their life

And somewhere in the distant background is that stable
At Bethlehem, with the baby in the manger,
Still radiating the message of love
To every human soul in this angst-torn world

Ken Fisher