Sunday, 14 November 2010

WALKABOUTSVERSE 131 OF 230

Poem 131 of 230:  DURING LATE FEBRUARY 2001

From an all-dark sky,
    To ice the burdened ill earth,
Broke spiteful neat white.

(C) David Franks 2003

Saturday, 13 November 2010

WALKABOUTSVERSE 132 OF 230

Poem 132 of 230:  GREED AT ITS WORST - SPRING 2001

At first, I thought it was an argument -
    A noisy argument in my flat’s block -
But, as the violent sounds continued,
    Opted to open my stairway door’s lock.

The upstairs neighbour was already there:
    The man opposite me was being held -
Locked inside his flat and receiving thumps.
    “Hey! Come to the door, now!” we knocked and yelled.

Soon, the male pensioner’s door opened,
    And a mid-twenties male appeared -
Waving, between the upstairs-man and me,
    Either a gun or something that neared.

The solid upstairs-man chose bravery,
    And tried to apprehend the filthy thief.
When the latter wormed free of the former,
    I, too, had a go and had him beneath.

Then, frankly, I was tricked to distraction:
    A young woman followed and had her say -
Pleading to stop it and leave him alone.
    He and she soon bolted down the stairway.

The upstairs man gave chase, but tripped and fell,
    As I phoned 999 and told the Law.
The pensioner suffered a bloodied face -
    I don’t know if he has less/they have more.

(C) David Franks 2003

Friday, 12 November 2010

WALKABOUTSVERSE 133 OF 230

Poem 133 of 230:  OXFORD BLUE - SPRING 2001

A contract ended/a new one begun,
    And a move from Bolton back to Bury -
A top-floor council-flat (within Radcliffe),
    Where streets are named from names in poetry,
And homes are framed by scenes I’m happy with.

My thirteenth home needed some touching-up,
    And I chose, in the main, to D.I.Y.;
So a nailed off-cut-and-rug make-do
    Covers the small floor where shelved books now lie -
My first study, painted in Oxford Blue.

(C) David Franks 2003

Thursday, 11 November 2010

WALKABOUTSVERSE 134 OF 230

Poem 134 of 230:  RAWTENSTALL - SPRING 2001

A whistle’s “okay, go” scream,
    Plus the sight and sound of steam
Against a stone tunnel-wall,
    On the track to Rawtenstall.

High up from where I now dwell,
    A much narrower Irwell
Flows past Rawtenstall’s station -
    Making its own Bury run.

Turning to view a wide ridge,
    I walked to Weavers’ Cottage,
Whose staff enlightened me on
    How wool was spun and woven.

Climbing past strong stone-houses,
    I found the slope for skiers,
And the place for which I’d come -
    Rossendale Museum.

Set within Whitaker Park,
    This museum holds fine-art,
Old furniture and fashion,
    Plus a species collection.

Again with stops for the sights,
    I stepped down Rawtenstall’s heights
To where track and river wed -
    The train ready with a head…

(C) David Franks 2003

Wednesday, 10 November 2010

WALKABOUTSVERSE 135 OF 230

Poem 135 of 230:  ON THE 2001 ELECTION

Culturally Tory/
    Economically
Old-Labour -
    Cold waiver.

(C) David Franks 2003

Tuesday, 9 November 2010

WALKABOUTSVERSE 136 OF 230

part three (cont.)
WALKABOUT LANCASHIRE
(conclusions)

Poem 136 of 230:  LANCASHIRE SUNG SIMPLY

(TUNE - IN THE KEY OF F MAJOR:

D2 A2 Bb2 A2
D2 A2 Bb2 A2 G2 F2 F3
D2 A2 Bb2 A2
D2 A2 Bb2 A2 G2 F2 F3)

Lancashire:
Cut by rivers/met by sea;
Patched by farmland,
Mills and other industry.

Lancashire:
With your linkslands by the sea -
Rough left wild/
Greens and fairways clipped neatly.

Lancashire:
With your Pennine boundary;
Steeped in history,
Through your buildings, there to see.

Lancashire:
Where, through Graces, moorlands be;
Wooded parklands/
Flowered gardens - kept neatly.

Lancashire:
Red Rose County, God’s blessed thee.

(C) David Franks 2003
Hear here - http://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=27175

Monday, 8 November 2010

WALKABOUTSVERSE 137 OF 230

Poem 137 of 230:  SEEN

A change of pace -
    Walks through a place;
Crime-streets more clean -
    Through being seen.

Walking in twos,
    The obtained peace
Worth the worn shoes
    Of foot-police.

(C) David Franks 2003

Sunday, 7 November 2010

WALKABOUTSVERSE 138 OF 230

Poem 138 of 230:  AN OPIUM

National Lottery passes -
    Slight chances to be richer,
    With lots more than thy neighbour,
    Gained without any labour -
    Keep the system in favour:
An opium of the masses.

(C) David Franks 2003

Saturday, 6 November 2010

WALKABOUTSVERSE 139 OF 230

Poem 139 of 230:  TO THE OTHER-HALF

You
Give your
B  o  d  y       t  o
One who stands for
Beliefs   you   find   true
And whose looks you adore -
Not   one   using   notes   to   woo.
(And please avoid the shops that sell
An       electric-tan       or       a       tattoo.)


(C) David Franks 2003

Friday, 5 November 2010

WALKABOUTSVERSE 140 OF 230

Poem 140 of 230:  HOUSING

Owing to lax migration- and birth-control,
    Cities are now congested, on the whole;
But, without such home-building limitations,
    What are the wisest accommodations?

Fence, then side-alley, house, driveway, and then fence?
    For wall- or floor-sharing can make things tense -
Annoying one-another without any trace;
    But side-alleys can be a waste of space…

How about one-wall fencing the neighbour’s drive?
    I can’t recall seeing this kind of hive...
(And, for a basic-standard all can afford,
    Better the State be the only landlord.)

(C) David Franks 2003

My third home, in Sydney's Sutherland Shire,
scanned from a 20th-century film-print photo

Manchester Art Gallery; 9/3/17