In Memoriam: Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II
Like every phenomenon,
an epoch is mortal.
Today this epoch
passed away,
the second Elizabethan age
faded slowly and with majesty,
into complete history
to reside briefly
in the memory of many,
reminded of our own mortality
This shows too, that no matter
how successful and influential
you may have been, death does
not discriminate. Colour, creed,
status and wealth are not an aegis
to protect you from the swipe
of the scythe.
Death shall have its Dominion.
© David McCormack 9/ 10/ 22
Avian Mantra
Birds please keep free from avian flu
from avian flu keep free.
Please sing for world peace,
for world peace please sing.
Please chirp for the environment,
the birds,
the bees,
the trees,
and those endangered.
Chirp and sing in hope,
in hope sing and chirp.
© David McCormack 08/22
Folium Choreography
A choreography of golden leaves
conducted by the tree’s twig
in a light October breeze,
technically illuminated
by the lighting board of the sun.
Each dancer of the Folium de Ballet
switling and swooping harmoniously,
each dancer a terpsichorean classic,
pirouetting, orchestrated by a symphonic breeze.
Ballet grace profoundly soothing
at a time of accentuating anxiety.
What a great comforting experience
never to become hackneyed by repetition.
© David McCormack 10/22
The Four Drivers of the Apocalypse
Plague drove a Pandemic
high speed sports car
flat out along the world’s highways.
Famine accelerated
the all plastic Pollutant
Anti-Eco GT
War entered the contest
with the Nuclear Coupe,
a flash vehicle with a macho bang.
However, not recommended for cities.
Death drove a Consequence
Convertible Cremation Hearse,
a ground breaker
Millions on life’s motorways,
their fumes bringing permanent night
and eventual famine
© David McCormack 24/06/22
Dylan Thomas
In Memoriam, 1914 – 1953
…your words pulsated in my young mind,
pulsate still in my old mind,
causing a sense of giddiness
profound as plangent metaphor,
rhythmical as stars shift
mellifluously tuned logos
synoptic tingle of recognition
Here, at your modest grave
shared with Caitlin;
my empathy became intense
with thoughts of mortality…
if a great poet can die,
what of a lesser?
Maybe dead already
from sterility of thought.
© David McCormack 09/2012
The daughter of the damned
There’s something rotten in Sweden
They’ve threatened to play for Nato.
The ruling pigs now forgetting
the treaty that made a world show
There’s madness dancing with axes,
with nukes, you will surely hit bottom.
The ruling pigs morph to puppets.
This lady of war WILL blossom
The radio gives you your thinking.
Your mind runs fast inside sleep.
Their pigs blood is made for your drinking,
“Do it lemmings, now! Just leap!”
He came back after his deep fast.
The world now known, revealed,
The ruling pigs blood is corrupted
“You will leave right now,” she squealed
Michael Skywood Clifford 09/22
Wonderful woodpigeon
For sue
This beautiful bird
snuggled on the fence
in the heat of a rare
English tropical summer
Exhausted perhaps,
or anchored to bring
me a message of hope?
Wonderful woodpigeon
in touch with the spirit
world possessing rare arcana.
Is this avian geist guest
in touch with the love
of my life, my soul mate?
David McCormack August 2022
Henry the pussy
by Michael Skywood Clifford
Now Henry the pussy
He prowls in the night
He wanders the land
In orange moonlight
He tramples the streets
and creeps in the gutters
He never gets lost
(His feet were once buttered)
Despite all the distance
The hours sniffing sheds
the insects, the false trails
Where mouse smells have led
It’s when Henry returns
Sometime around dawn
That he makes me so mad
That he makes me so drawn
That he’s had time outside
Doesn’t mean a paw
He’s held it and boiled it
To wee on my floor
Archie the penguin
By Michael Skywood Clifford 1977
Archie the Penguin
Marched from the Artic
Became a rich bedouin
And tanned on his feathers
He hated the icycles
And the weather of polar bears
So decided to bicycle
Across the Sahara
This sun tanned and feather friend
Pedalled and pedalled
And pedalled and pedalled
And pedalled and pedalled
And pedalled and pedalled
Until he saw sea.
The people were waiting
Some celebrating
They pinned him with medals
And gave him fresh tea.
There were people abounding
To put their arms around him
“Oh what a brown skin
How brave can you be?”
Archie the Penguin
Was happy in Cairo
By road or by rail
He travelled no more;
He put up his flippers
And slippered,
By the light of the stars,
Described what really happened
In his memoirs.
Larry the lizard is coming to tea
by Michael Skywood Clifford 1978
Larry the lizard is coming to tea
“Oh what fun!” I shouted with glee
But frowns appeared on Aunt Connie’s face
“Oh not him for tea! What a disgrace!”
Now when Larry the lizard comes to tea
The vanishing food is a wonder to see:
He bolts down his custard
He stuffs down a cake
licks cream from his fingers
And troughs the milk shake
Larry the lizard had been once before
He was everso bold when asking for more
He showed us his manners leaving crumbs on the floor
Then Aunt Connie snapped she could take it no more.
She grabbed at his tail and swung him around
But he kept stuffing triffle as the table passed round
Aunt Connie was so angry she showed him the door
Oh crumbs! Larry the lizard is still coming at four
;
“Now Aunt Connie,” I said, “I’ve a wonderful plan.
I’ll cook young Larry a boiled egg flan.
There wouldn’t be crumbs
There wouldn’t be dirt
And then there’ll be no need to change your skirt.”
At quarter past four the door bell was heard
But inside the house not a single soul stirred
Old Aunt Connie said she didn’t give a fig
She’d always feed lizards but never feed pigs