Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Gift

We have waited many years for this.
Oh the days and months and years.
Decades down the ages, up till now.

Then one day out of the blue it was.
A gift from God, manna from Heaven.
Drifted in all silent like a briny ghost.

We be patient, but not so very slow.
‘Tis all hands now, all hands down
Down to the beach; the pickings.

Rich pickings bobbing on the waves.
Containers laden down with booty.
So come grab your fill and more.

Load up the bags, fill up your car.
Drag it right up the pebbly beach.
In hands and under arms, gather up.

We cared not for the government
Men of old, nor do we now care
For the receivers, salvage lackeys.

Way back when we were wreckers.
Way back we lured them into rocks.
Way back we took our spoils, as now.

Martin Delemare
23rd January 2007

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Can I Have a Word?

Can I have a word?
Not of course right now
But on Monday morning
That way you will think
About what? Why? and how?
All weekend to worry
All weekend to suffer.

Written down is even better
A summons; a sealed letter.
You try to speak that
Friday afternoon but no
No chance of a hearing
You too will wait and yet
It’s two days to worry and fret.

Martin Delemare
22nd February 2006