Poems

Dog attack

A quiet country lane.
Beyond the open farm gates
Two farm dogs sitting outside farm
Appear relaxed but bored.
They trot towards me..
Non-aggressive, investigatory..

Peaceful manner quickly mutates
To much barking and intimidation..

Dogs round me up
Pin me to spot.
Cannot move a toe
Without incitement to more barking
Snarling and savage baring
Of gums and fangs.

Me remember
These dogs have attacked before.
Me recall
Mention of blood.
Me scared.
Me recall dogs smell fear.
Me no like dogs smell fear.
Dogs circling like sharks.
Me v scared.
Me pretend no scared.
Me stop calling loudly
For reinforcements...
Me grin fake grin
Me speak quietly..
(Phony pleased-to-see-them voice)
'Good boys ‘n girls..
Such good boys ‘n girls'.
Dogs pause for a bit.
Dogs confused.
Me say again
'Such good boys n girls' etc etc..
In continuing fake happy, relaxed fashion..
Dogs troubled.
Dogs stop trying to round me up.
Snarling in more friendly way.
Barking less.
Dogs stop circling like sharks.
Much quieter..
Doggy objectives seem less clear.
Me say again
(With phony uplift)
'Such GOOD boys ‘n girls!!'
Time passes
Doggy restlessness.
Doggy boredom.
One dog buggers off.
Other dog becoming uncomfortable
Less bold...
Knocked off perch a bit.
To stay or to go?
Me think good time to take command.
Me say, in deep, resonant, quiet voice..
'Sit'.
Dog clearly thinking about it.
Seems to want direction..
Bum hovering over ground.
To sit or not to sit?
Me repeat command more commandingly.
'Sit'.
Dog thinks.
Dog thinks.
Dog sits.
Dog waits.
Dog seems more contented.
Dog no longer expected to make decisions.

Cavalry arrives
Same cavalry that in the past
When jogging and under same doggy attack
Had successfully yelled at dogs to
'JUST ‘F’ OFF!'
Dog gets up
Wanders back to his mate
Confused and self-conscious
In manner of hypnotised person
Just come off stage
Having eaten an onion
(With relish)
They fully believed
Was an apple.

Post script:

Note to self;

Next time threatened with attack
From ferocious dogs
Remember the 'sit' command.
Can be
Surprisingly useful.

©Leda Parker

My Life as a Drudge

I shuffle along the hedge loaded with washing,
Then back to the kitchen to help with the cooking.
Scrub, scour, clean, mop, brush, sweep, dust and wash all the pans,
“Hurry! Drop the eggs and fetch upstairs Madame’s fan.”

The cat got the butter, the milk has now curdled.
Monsieur rings: “Where is my lens cap? And my girdle?”
Another thing-the sunglasses have gone missing!
His princess’s pea under the mattress went rolling!

Monsieur once proposed to help me clear out the shed.
“Keep your kind offer right in your trousers”, I said.
I could gladly have turned the man into a toad,
His squat, slimy body all squashed up on the road.

Once a week they let me use the indoor toilet,
As long as I tiptoe through the back at sunset.
When they do mumble at me avoiding my eyes
I think of you, “Endurance”, stuck in winter ice.

My knees are wrecked and my back is gone with the wind,
My cheeks and lips have turned the colour of old tin.
I spend all my wages on potions, pills and pot,
But my smile’s wide, my spirit young and my dreams hot.

From my caravan in springtime I often see
A wild boar and its young rummage across the lea.
I love the long shadows of poplars on the lawn,
Their leaves shiver in summer, a flutter, they’re gone.

Autumn creeps in like a wolf as I remember
Young lovers, sun-kissed, swept away by the river.
Winter is spare of flesh but very large of bone,
The earth is bled dry while my bed has turned to stone.

They ring at all hours, they party and dance all night,
And while Rome is burning, they break into a fight.
Tomorrow I’ll pick up their cold limbs and ashes,
Mop their brows, blow their noses, wipe out the kisses,

Cover their bald patches-it’s all par for the course.
But if they make me jump through too many a hoop
Me and Mary the cook will spit in their pea soup-
Or worse.

Forbidden Fruit

Now come on Bobby smoke your cigarettes

But mummy I don't like cigarettes..

Now come on.. Don't be churlish.. You know what the government’s recommended daily amounts are.. At least ten a day.. That's two for breakfast, three with your lunch, three with your supper and two before bedtime.

Billie! What's that you've got up your jumper! Is that a piece of fruit..?
yes it is! It’s a banana..!! I don't believe it.. Whatever next!?
You bad, bad boy.. And in front of your younger brother too..

But mummy.. I saw daddy having some fruit this morning..

How dare you say such a thing..
Don’t tell fibs...
You know your father would never do such a thing... !
….. Where?

Out in the garden..
Down behind the shed..
It was a.. It was a...
A fruit salad!

Why I’ll clip you round the ear if you say another word..

He's always doing it.. Haven't you noticed? His clothes reek of it..

Off to bed this instant you shameful child..
And don't even think about showing your face in the morning until you've finished this pack of ten.. Or mark my words well have the NSPCC coming out here to haul you off to a children’s home..

And take it from me if that happens you'll never see another piece of fruit again!

©Leda Parker

Bob Dylan and the Plymco
Revolution

Bob Dylan was singing in the plymco.

How does it feel to be on your own

like a rolling stone?.

He asked.

Me.

Not now

Bob

I replied.

I’m busy

Shoping.

Later at the checkout,

Tracy Chapman

Told me, there was gonna be a revolution.

I looked around,

All was quiet and peaceful

In the Plymco.

I don’t think so,

Tracy.

I replied

The woman, at the checkout,

Gave me a funny look.

I quickly gave her the money

And went,

Home.

Childhood dreams

When I was a child the 21st century was going to be all flying cars and holidays on the moon and what do I get?

Richard and Judy and queuing in Asda.

When I was child only the rich were driven round in stretch limousines, now its Sharon and Tracy out on the town.
Hanging out the window and screaming quite loud.

When I was child I want to be like Gary Glitter when I grow up.
I’m glad to say that never came true.

When I was a child punks dyed their hair because it was cool.
Now old punks dye their hair because they're going grey.

Oh how the world has changed since I was a child.

He said

He said, life is a killer and suicide the

antidote.

Life is a game you win,

When you quit.

Life is not what you make it,

But what it makes of you.

Life in the asylum, that is this world,

Will make you crazy.

He said,

As he fingered the trigger.