Our Story, Our Journey
We were nervous, some quiet,
Some seeming to want to be anywhere but here
Where Vibe welcomed us all, every one with a story to tell.
A unique group, all with a different beginning, perhaps
Trapped in a country, trapped in a mind, trapped in a place which is not always kind,
What sort of stories to tell might we find?
Too canny for Kennings, storyboard shy,
The tales some held brought a tear to the eye.
But still we kept coming.
Some reluctant, some withdrawn,
Some seeming to be brimming with confidence
But were they? Everyone with a story to tell.
Our forming group, bonding a new today, perhaps
Trapped in a country, trapped in a mind, trapped in a place which is not always kind,
What sort of stories to tell might we find?
Too canny for Kennings, storyboard shy,
The tales some held brought a tear to the eye.
But still we kept coming.
Kent Dialect
As a Man of Kent you can take it from me
Kent is famed for hops, fair maids and civility.
I hail from Starv'em, Rob'm and Cheat'm and that'll do.
(Strood, Rochester and Chatham to you)
I travelled well some 200 Kentish miles
To see a bit of the world and all is wiles.
To Kill'em, Cart'em and Bury'em I went
(That's Chilham, Chartham and Canterbury, all in Kent)
But a whistling woman and a crowing hen
Are neither good for God nor men,
So as sure as there's a dog in Dover
I came to give Rochdale a quick once over.
Now, thirty years later, I've seen some scenes
That would make a donkey run away from his beans!
But I kept me head down, I was doing alright
(For when a sheep baas it loses a bite)
It's not been all hard work, there's been time to smile
And folk are friendly, if you bide a while.
So I stayed, and worked and made some friends
But this isn't where my story ends
For its all to work, all to play
Pick up your hops and run away!
In Heywood I know some as married at Finglesham Church
Yet despite that they won't leave me in the lurch.
When I feel I've nowt but a pocketful of dead hopes
I now have friends as wouldn't leave me trapped on the ropes.
I arrived in this county all of a tremor, all of a trot
Then retired peaceful and calm as likely as not.
Well, that's near enough for hog shearing
And enough from me, all of what you've been hearing,
For a man who fair likes a place, well he don't knock it
You wants that as much as a toad wants a side pocket.
I'm trying hard to describe life at Lancashire's edge
Groping about like a blind hen, looking for a worm in a hedge.
What I'm trying to say, like a twig in a pie nest
You Lancashire folk are some of Gods finest.
© Ray Stearn 22nd April 2020
Home Thoughts From Home
Oh, to be in England
Now the lockdown’s here
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the PPE and protective masks
Round the NHS are in short supply
But the staff continue, I don’t know how
In England – now!
And after April, when May follows,
As the virus builds, or we hope gets swallowed
By the social distancing, while our bets we hedge
Walk to the fields and exhale droplets
Others breathe in at the vented spray’s edge-
The wise wash hands, singing songs twice over
Lest you should think we will never recapture
The world’s fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
None will see it for none can now go through
The buttercups, the little children’s dower
Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower
© Ray Stearn 23rd April 2020
Isolation Blues
Mum’s knitting face masks for nurses
Gran’s swilling Corona Beer
Grandad just sits there and curses
I want to be miles from here
The government say we are lumbered
Three weeks or more we must face
I want to nip out for a burger
But afraid the police will give chase
In a lifetime or two they will wonder
What the national plague was about
But we just try not to go under
As our future just goes up the spout
Wash your hands, wash your hands is the message
Don’t go out, don’t meet up with your friends
Not with a bang but a virus
Is this how the universe ends
© Ray Stearn 17 April 2020
Isolation
Alone
Isolated
All my fears bubble up
An enormous Irish Stew on the stove of anxiety
The holly bush pops into my mind like a potato surfacing through the broth
Will its roots grow through the foundations?
Then the wind increases, the potato holly dives
Slates take its place , quorn pieces in this veggie stew
Will they still be on the roof come morning
Another bubble from the stove
Carrots surface as the front door in my mind
Is it rotten or can I repaint it?
Bubble bubble stew and trouble
Is that new chair showing signs of woodworm
Say the turnips in my mind stew
Oh
There’s a virus to worry me too
Corona covid,
So good they named it twice
Take my advice
Don’t think twice
Or hoard rice
Be nice
Be very very nice
Or your swede I will dice
Irish Stew in the name of the law
© Ray Stearn 21st March 2020