With a “read-around” pending yesterday afternoon at the Macc Writers’ Library session, I was feeling rather jaundiced about what is and what maybe in store for us in the year ahead and I’m afraid this might just have crept into the second poem of 2019! Happy New Year, everyone.
The View from Mid-Jan.
The seal on a new year’s been broken
and we’ve tidied our Christmas away.
The flutes of champagne were a token
and the fizz had gone flat New Year’s Day.
The tree lies awaiting collection.
Non-drop needles fall thick from the pine
I’m prone to some bleak introspection
which seems to emerge as a whine.
The baubles are back in the attic,
alongside them the Christmas tree stand.
For this year, I’m less than ecstatic.
(I’m beginning to sound like Jo Brand).
I’ll try to be bouncy and buoyant
and like Tigger I’ll aim for a smile,
but you don’t need to be a clairvoyant
to spot problems ahead from a mile.
At this point, the Brexit agenda
is demanding to have centre stage.
Common sense we’ve been asked to surrender
since Cameron let it out of its cage.
We’ve always had troubles aplenty.
Looking back we can see where we’ve been,
so my vision is less 20 : 20
and more blurred for this 20 19.
I don’t want the tinsel to tarnish.
We’ve recycled our cards ‘cos we’re green.
Can we find some covering varnish
and welcome in 20 19?
Are we heading for fortress Britain,
hoarding medicines and rolls for the loo?
I mull over these words I have written
and I’d rather stay in the EU!