I Looked in a River

I looked in a river from a bridge I was on
The river and bridge both small yet so strong
The water so clear you could see river bed
Yet what I saw cast around made me feel sad

A concrete pylon about two meters long
An old sack and Iron Gate and a cycle half gone
Then a blue plastic bag and a tyre yet no wheel
A place in seems for discarded items people steal

It’s a shame a disgrace as this debris is strewn
As around it all river plants and reeds fight for room
Yet again it’s a puzzle as the waters so clear
That’s despite this mess on the riverbed here

Copyright © 2008 Ray Feasey

poem by Ray Feasey
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Wander-Wander

Wander Wander where to go
This way that way I don’t know
Just keep walking forward stance
Take in views and capture chance
Two Herons here and horses there
Country wandering more than fair

Crossing style and jumping brook
Sit a while and take a look
See the water meander down
Watch a small frog jump around
Then move on and up the hill
Wild grass grows and always will

Wander Wander where to go
Down long lane and past hedge row
Light is fading now it’s late
A distant building I cannot wait
For the light that glimmers from within
It’s no public house, it’s a ‘real ale’ Inn!

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poem by Ray Feasey
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Beware Valentines Day!

February 14th and a special day
For many romantic couples at play
Card shops crammed with displays
Arty sentimental pictures
Inside see slushy verse

As those given to afterthought
Pull into a garage forecourt
Then leave with faded flowers
Entering front door for the romantic hours

The seasoned professional love monkey types
Excel at this days laborious hype
Ending day in booked restaurant
Oh how slick!

Love songs from lone guitarist on stool
Are sung to the many - oh so gullible
Extra Roses procured by restaurant staff
Blatantly passed to the ladies they pass

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poem by Ray Feasey
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Golf 'N' Me

Golf and me are not to be I’ve tried it many times,
I slipped I fell and heard folk yell and even hit a old brass bell
At hole’s I crossed when ball was lost

Then shortly after leaving Tee I let those pass who Tee long after me
While colleagues wait quiet patiently for me to find a perfect swing
And make the day worthwhile thing

Then suddenly success it’s been I find my swing and hit the green
A putters what you need right now until I seem to miss somehow
Again to find the missing ball oh why do I bother at all?

The driving range would sort me out or so the experts all would shout
Yet many balls I’d bash and hit just went their own way, not ahead
The many times I failed to hit a single net or hole or flag

Yes golf and me are not to be and now we all know why
So shoes that crimp and made me limp, the single glove and strange shape clubs

I waive them all goodbye!

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poem by Ray Feasey
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