Poetry – The Summer of 49

The Summer of 49

 

I was born in the summer of forty nine.

Spent my childhood wild in the country.

Not a stream or pond I didn’t wade through.

I climbed every last tree.

I build my dens and played my games.

Together we all ran free.

When it came to life I had it sussed;

I wanted to run a menagerie.

 

Then came the magic sixties

And the music began to play.

There were girls, Kerouac and dreams

And that menagerie faded away.

I was captured by Dylan, Harper

And revolution and leapt into the fray.

For those were the days of idealism

Escape from the social tourniquet.

 

Then came the angry seventies

And the dream began to fade.

The age of Punk and riots

Marked a nihilistic decade.

I raised a family

And the bills had to be paid.

But I was writing down my words

And with lip-service to the game played.

 

In the eighties and nineties

I had my fun, with gigs, meals and sights.

With friends there was much laughter

As we put the world to rights.

There was a world of madness,

War and environmental plights.

There was a mighty battle raging

A time of nuclear fright.

 

Now in the twenty-first century

The damage is there to see.

Nature is being plundered

And we’re struggling for liberty.

All around is corruption

In the lands of the ‘free’.

The whole world is swamped with people

Living in poverty.

 

The politicians’ greed

Is stopping us from action.

They divide and rule

Creating warring factions.

But I’ve travelled the world

And seen through this distraction.

Populist division

Requires a positive reaction.

 

Looking back through time

I’ve had my fun and more.

With plenty of fulfilment.

I’ve opened many a door.

But the underlying heartaches

Still leave me feeling sore.

The catastrophe of the planet

Rocks me to the core.

 

I’d like to live long enough

To see us making progress.

Dealing with overpopulation

And making suitable redress.

To restore nature

In the beauty of her green dress.

So everyone is made happy

With an end to all this stress

 

Opher – 8.8.2020

I just wrote this. It is very rough and ready and requires a lot of work but I thought I’d share it anyway.