Poems on Nature or the Seasons
The Apple
The Apple is an historic fruit
Clutched in the hand of Eve
Tempting Adam against his good
When that serpent did deceive
The Apples of our modern age
Unlike those of Eden
No longer arouse our God’s rage
When tempted to be eaten
But that we too may be beguiled
By this choice fruit, so sweet
Ripened by the sun’s warm smile
Consummation thus complete
Ken Fisher
Car-rot!
What does one say about the Car-rot?
Perhaps right now just not a–lot!
In the past it made its mark
So bomber pilots saw in the dark
Coloured orange and with a shape that tapers
Ready to dance or some other capers
Sometimes linked with the proverbial stick
It’s meant to coax us to go quick
The stick instead being used to prod
Not something that we need applaud
The carrot is a root vegetable
The roots being eminently edible
The carrot is a biennial plant
It takes two long years its fruits to grant
But when it’s ready to eat or cook
It mixes well with meat or soup
But if you don’t fancy stewing steak
Carrots make a tasty cake
So although the carrot may not rise to fame
We should this humble veg acclaim
And if you want to stay alive
Count it in your daily five!
Ken Fisher
Holiday’s Challenge to our Soul
The calendar routine is set aside, released from enslavement to its rhythms
The prospect of a week or two of uncharted freedom leaves some uneasy
Perhaps the regularity of familiar patterns has turned us into automatons
We seek liberty but fear the impending loss of habitual strictures
However, no turning back now, forward is the only choice remaining
And so we set off on our journey casting aside our doubts and trepidation
We move steadily towards our destination, relieved no incident has impeded
Our progress to the long-planned journey’s end
Within a few hours of our arrival, new sights and sounds have our mind assaulted
New situations, and novel experiences soon cast aside our earlier foreboding
As we begin to feel the joy of patterns unfamiliar and surprises unforeseen
Thus re-awakened to a fresh and different mode of living
Those early days of holiday seem to pass at their own plodding pace
But very soon the tempo of life’s carousel accelerates
Each day now filled from dawn to late sunset
With activity to stimulate our bodies and our minds
This onslaught of frenetic activity, and sometimes quiet reflection
Has quite dissipated the doleful mood which marked our earlier arrival
So that now the prospect of the end of our vacation
Is viewed with equal disquiet as was the start
Perhaps most holidays are too short, not sufficient time
To disengage from all that would our lives oppress
Yet if they were to become much longer
How would we cope with re-entry to reality?
Ken Fisher
The English Riviera
Torquay
This coastal gem, twixt Exeter and Plymouth
Since Victorian times beloved of pleasure seekers
And renowned for the healthful climate
Its atmosphere, that of a continental clone
Has long enjoyed the sobriquet of the English Riviera
Perchance a poor shadow of Nice or Cannes?
However in these modern days when all seek to maximize their air miles
Many more fly high over Torbay than ever sample its ground level charms
Thus its air of fading gentility not yet gone beyond maturity to terminal decline
But who knows – as this nation enters isolation mode over Europe
And foreign travel once again seems more of a risk than adventure
Let’s hope the resurging trend of ‘staycation’ will bring revival
But is this judgment on the delights of South Devon just too hasty?
On closer examination I was reminded that there is much to savour
On this southern coastline, whose strand encompasses tiny coves
Expansive beaches, garish promenades, and flotillas of shiny yachts
Bobbing at anchor, or riding the waves, under the eagle eye of the Coast Watch
And, even yet, throngs of holidaymakers, bent on pleasure come what may
So let’s not too readily dismiss this southern coast, skirted by
The reclaimed railway line as it speeds through Dawlish, Teignmouth
And onwards, via Newton Abbot, to Plymouth and far Penzance
Recall with affection the quaint village charms of Shaldon
Or worship the sun in sheltered bays at Babbacombe and Goodrington
A ferry to Dartmouth’s port, then Totnes, or see craftsmen work at Cockington
For those who still hanker for the Mediterranean shores
Should try just one more time to find their pleasure near at home
The English Riviera may conjure up an image less exotic
But the unbiased visitor will find that for food and wine,
For sport and leisure, and for stimulation of the mind and heart
No need to span the Channel, or escape these native isles
Ken Fisher
Summer Solstice
A glimpse of sunshine warms our heart
Flowers and leaves reflect the light
The gentle rays caress our brow
Our lips widen with a smile
For now the daytime stretches out
Filling each hour with gentle light
Dark days of winter long forgot
We rejoice in life outside
From this ‘crows nest’ of the year
We scan the horizon fore and aft
Behind long hours of winter gloom
Then spring pregnant with promise
Ahead the prospect of summer warmth
And autumn’s gold and russet tints
But winter’s spectre lurks beyond
Vaguely threatening summer’s peace
Ken Fisher
Barbecue Time!
Once again it’s time for our annual barbecue
Cheer up, it’s no day to be feeling blue
Let’s hope the sun will shine this year
And bring to all some needed cheer
If all goes well it should be great
Make sure you don’t arrive too late
Tempt your tum with tasty food
The chatter helps you to feel good
This year the weather may be kind
Helping each of us unwind
No heavy agenda to discuss
No leader to create a fuss
So, as we now anticipate
The sizzling burgers on our plate
Meat or veggie, make your choice
Don’t be shy, let’s hear your voice
We’ll try to ensure you’re satisfied
At least you’ll realise we tried
To bring to you a feast that’s hearty
Amidst a joyous festive party
Ken Fisher
Unpredictable
[A comment on the Scottish Weather!]
Believe the forecast? Well I wouldn’t go that far
The Scottish weather we’re convinced our pleasure’s bound to mar
If morning brings the sunshine bright, the noon will see it gone
Rain before the eventide denies the promised dawn
We never know quite what to wear midst all that fickle change
And our planned calendar we’ll need to re-arrange
We play it cool but soon we find the weather is so hot
Our temper’s frayed, our nerves thus overwrought
More likely it’s the opposite, we’re hoping for the heat
Or at the very least we’ll still have two dry feet
What will it be? Wet, dry, hot or even cold
Sure predictions by us would simply be too bold
And of course this weather is so volatile it can affect our mood
Sometimes our cheeriness is easily subdued
We simply must adjust and learn just how to cope
No matter what the days may bring we should not lose all hope
For rain showers give us verdant land and open fields so green
Our streets too by this process are easily kept clean
And sunshine, when we get it, brings on the crops and flowers
The mixture of these elements shows nature’s mighty powers
Of course there are those who cannot stand no sun or too much rain
And thus the exodus of ex pats who now call home sunny Spain!
But being true Scots most of us are made of sterner stuff
No cowards we, we hang on in e’en though the climate’s rough
And after all who would want to get up every day
Looking out the window and finding, come what may
The vista never changes when time it is to rise
Far better we, when curtains slide, an every day surprise!
So let’s not let the weather become our pet obsession
There is no need for rain or shine to bring on deep depression
Let’s learn to live with change and smile what e’er betide
Thus all our Scottish weather we’ll cope with in our stride
Ken Fisher
The Promise of Spring
[for the vernal equinox]
Is it too good to be believed?
Windows still recovering from March gales
When hailstones stung our cheeks
Dark clouds shrouded the lowering sky
New shoots fighting for life
Ground yet sodden by endless rain
At last a brighter dawn emerges
For today is the equinox
A twice-yearly event
When night and day are of equal length
The day when the sun’s centre
Passes through the equator
The promise of more light and warmth
But above all this it is
‘The First Day of Spring’
Creatures stir from hibernation
The rebirth of flora and fauna
Perhaps new hope arises
In our weary souls
KEN FISHER
While the Tempest Rages
Travellers gaze upwards with anxious glances
While branches come crashing to the ground
Double glazed windows assaulted by the gales
A test of strength for the garden shed and glasshouse
Birds circling as in a whirlpool below a lowering sky
Pedestrians angled acutely forward against the blast
Umbrellas outside-in, their twisted spokes fractured
Mothers grip their toddlers ever tighter
Children fail to circumnavigate the puddles
The lollipop man battles with his wayward sign
Motorists give wide berth to high-sided lorries
The A signs outside shops cartwheel across the pavement
Nervous passengers suspended in the terminal
Perhaps happy not yet to be whirling aloft
Ships at sea scurry for safe havens
Novice cruise passengers fail to find sea legs
Office workers plea for an early release
Lest they be marooned twixt work and home
College students simply lie abed – why bother?
Weather forecasters issue ominous warnings
More strident as they move from the Yellow
Through the Amber to the Red – Take Action!
But what action can we take?
As the Americans say
Let’s hunker down!
Calm is sure to return
Sadly, not yet!
Ken Fisher
Brighter Prospects
In this dark month of Janus, the herald of new beginnings
and transitions, we discern the prospect of better things
But presently, shrouded in cold and damp, we find little
To bring us cheer or even hope of change
The signs of spring still well concealed beneath,
Tiny shoots not yet daring to raise their spears
Above the sodden earth, under the skeletal trees
The ground a wasteland bereft of life or spirit
But if the earth’s faithful calendar remains true
Its progression round the sun will surely bring
A daily change to our allotted portion of the light
And daylight hours will steadily extend
Then doubtless spring will waken all of life
From deep winter’s restoring hibernation
Flora and fauna each in their respected realm
Stretch stems and limbs, escaping from the night
And in due time we pray the sun’s caressing rays
Will invigorate the whole created world
Thus brighter prospects fill our hearts with joy
Sustaining us amidst this winter gloom
Ken Fisher
AT THE THRESHOLD OF THE 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 doth 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 ahead 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
The words of the familiar Christmas song say:
“No room for the baby at Bethlehem’s Inn
Only a cattle shed,… nowhere to lay his head etc.”
……………………………………………………..
Will you still say to Him – no room?
I wondered if in this modern sophisticated age
There is even less room now than in those ancient days?
A glance at the nativity scene no longer can our souls engage
The conjunction of God in man fails to set our hearts ablaze
We’ve grown beyond such simple tales of the incarnation
Who needs God when mankind becomes of all things the true measure?
The manger scene no longer commands awestruck prostration
Our hearts now drawn to the shrine of our own worldly treasure
We have ensured that in our life so self-sufficient
The only saviour that we need, immortalised in our possessions
Achievement and success regarded as omnipotent
No more obliged to appease a God with praises or confessions
So why I wonder do we still cast a wistful eye
Towards that stable bare where power was turned upon its head?
The star still twinkles in the dome of that celestial sky
Pointing to the Holy Infant in the manger bed
But perhaps in all our self-assured and confident living
We may just falter for a moment, our souls yearning for a home
And for all life’s blessings make our own thanksgiving
Discover, for that Baby, in our heart there still is room
Ken Fisher
A happy Christmas to all who read this, and other poems, from thebardofkelvindale
thebardofkelvindale 