by Carey Lenehan.

I was fooled, weren’t you fooled,
by that early burst of Springime?
I pulled off socks and dug out flipflops,
short sleeved T’s,
and hung the sweaters out the way.

I basked, didn’t you,
in that warm afternoon sunshine?
Toured around on the mower,
listening to thrushes mating and revelled,
yes, revelled,
in the warm kiss of the southerly breeze

I watched, we all did,
those first yellow butterflies
dancing their chaotic ballet
amongst the early bramble shoots
whilst the ponies
frolicked amidst a burst of daisies,
pushing out between the clover shoots.

I smiled just like you,
when I saw the rain and snow elsewhere
while we were eating lunch in the sun and wondering
just how hot it might get.
Had a giggle on them, as we sweated,
all those poor sods not so lucky as me
Then opened a bottle of wine in 80 degrees and felt smug.

That was last week.

Today the clouds flew, like fighter planes on a mission
entirely the other way
colliding with our sweet, warm air
in a clash of titans.
After a brief tumult of pressures, in swept a chill
from a whole new direction.

I watched it, didn’t you,
Chasing the honeysuckle buds back down the stems
Murdering the frogspawn beneath a skim of ice
Turning the wisteria shoots
to shrivelled fingers.

So I’m looking, aren’t you,
for the thermals I stored away?
And those snow boots I thought I’d never wear
because,
just when I thought it was Spring,
Winter returned
Who’s laughing now?

*****

The world has changed again

and I remain, as before,

beached on the wrong side of history,

uncertain of my place in the future

and wistful for the world that has gone.

 

Like so many, I am the child

of a different century,

a believer in the triumph

of Good over Evil,

in kindness before greed,

of taking care of those in need

but,

the turn of a clock

left that age behind,

zeroed all the numbers

and sent our children blind,

rudderless, sightless

into a world of narcissism

and shifting morality.

No more rules, just unequal equality,

gave them food they didn’t need,

plastic pleasures not designed to feed

anything but the ego, the endless selfie,

the me, me me.

And now, sinking into a bed of fragrant vice

and unsatisfied needs

comes the Great Pretender,

the merchant of dreams.

 

Arise, Trumplestiltskin,

because in your image, the world doesn’t look

like mine any more.

Nothing I believe has made it

over the threshold

of the new millenium

and my precious Earth, is crammed

with user abusers too dumb, too overcome

with consuming and preening

to see how the world bleeds,

how the dispossessed flee,

and the whales desert the seas

while I stare into the future, aghast

at where

this human race, at speed

has chosen

to go,

at the things

they pretend not

to know

Oblivious, to the doom they bring to us all, mindless, kindless,

brainless, frameless and

redundant of hope.

 

I dream of the world that is gone,

see the world that is left

and wonder how we overcome

the rise of the wicked gnome

the reign of the Trumplestiltskin

and the terrible harm he might bring?

 

All seems calm now but

for how long..?

Farewell then Barack Obama

You came

You saw

But you couldn’t conquer

The vested interests of a hostile congress,

the endless duress, of bitter antipathy

You tried, you really did,

to make your country whole,

your people healthy

But

To be brutally honest

It doesn’t seem like much,

After all the hope, all the promises

You didn’t close Gitmo,

You didn’t make peace happen,

Nobel or otherwise

You didn’t make much change

That cannot be undone

With the slash of an executive pen on a wilful executive order

By the next loudmouthed hopeful who sits in your chair

Did you leave America better, or abandon it worse?

And as the world now endures

this newly Trumped up curse

And a murder of demons,

The very worst of the worst,

Set about destroying those few things you achieved

And we watch on appalled, unable to halt the worst thing of all,

Your Democracy hijacked by the agents of greed.

So whilst your country descends towards hell and beyond,

I can only hope that you won’t stay gone

You might think that your time at the helm has come to a close,

But I have to tell you Barack Obama

I fear that may not be true

And you should remember

Despite everything you did and did not do

Through all the criticism deserved and not

Your bore yourself with grace, with humour, elegance and taste

With patience and with courage that I could never doubt

I was proud of the person you showed to the world

So like the rest of the good people, I would have liked you to stay

To keep us all a bit safer from the crazy coming our way

And you may smile, bow your head, make to leave the stage,

But I doubt that you will be gone

for long

As we face our End of Days.

Lest We Forget

Posted: November 11, 2016 in political poetry

11.11.11.12 Lest We Forget by Carey Lenehan Here they stand, poppy breasted, silent heads bowed in ritual, To remember a generation lost to politicking, lunacy, rhetoric, lies, and the ravenous mil…

Source: Lest We Forget

End of Days

Posted: October 9, 2016 in political poetry
by Carey Lenehan


Welcome to the world we have made,
to the rising waters and heaving waves
to the lashings storms and torrential rains
Welcome to a world betrayed

Welcome to a future uncertain
as glaciers melt and sinkholes open
As mountains crumble and continents collide
Welcome the future we defiled

Exploited, extracted, hunted and fished
Relentlessly stripped of its myriad gifts
We murdered its species, cut down the trees
poisoned and ploughed, polluted the seas

Detonated, gouged, scraped raped and burned
Chopped, cropped and murdered, with little concern
Welcome to the world HuMANity made,
Welcome now, to the end of days.

Changing Fortunes

Posted: October 7, 2016 in political poetry

© Carey Lenehan 2016

When life is sweet,
don’t moan.
Don’t sleep.
Don’t miss a beat.
Live every second like it counts,
eat good food in vast amounts.
Take every risk,
wallow in bliss.
Don’t think.
Don’t blink.
Don’t over reckon.
Just go with the flow,
live, love, take it slow.
Sleep when you’re dead
or when luck turns its head,
but when the good times roll
make living your goal.

Image may contain: dog, sky, outdoor and water
Dance.
Take a chance.
Make life advance.
Cast a bet, pay a debt,
come to terms with your regrets
Repay the friends who helped you out.
Spend time with people you forgot about.
Laugh.
Sing.
Be happy and giving.
Make the most, while it stays
because fortunes can change,
good luck slips away.
So use your brain.
Be insane.
Life is pleasure and pain,
not a burden to bear
nor a curse to endure.
It’s risk.
It’s adventure
And so much more.

Jorge the Corge

Posted: September 1, 2016 in political poetry

Currently in the foster care program ‘chez nous’ is this little darling. He’s not really called Jorge, and he’s not really a Corgi. He’s called Dixon or Buddy or, most…

Source: Jorge the Corge