Poetry – The Winter of Democracy

The Winter of Democracy

Living in the winter

                Of democracy

As factions stifle voices.

Dead leaves

                Of hope

Blow among the garbage.

Fascism erupts

                From the

Rotting corpse.

Conspiracy replaces truth.

Certainty replaces quest.



                                As a black

And white scripture.

Those not with us

                Are always wrong.


                Comes with a gun.


                                                With a fist.

Freedom is a prison

                Whose walls

                                Are closing in.

It’s the winter of democracy

                Lies and fake news


For the fools.


Watching the news as the Tories desperately spin the story. Red meat is thrown to the gullible. Throats are cut. Scapegoats selected.

Careers are ruined.

Anything but the truth.

The lust for power rules.

Operation Save The Big Dog is in full swing – Lie, obfuscate, cover, lie some more.

All singing from the same script.

If you say it often enough……..

Over in the States Trump trots out the same lies, holds the same rallies, cons the same people.

He spills his lies, conspiracy and spin and the fools lap it up.


Who cares for democracy??

This is the business of money and power.

There are no rules.

There is not a shred of truth.

Poetry – Life is a losing game

Life is a losing game

Life is a losing game.

No matter how great the joy

It always ends in pain.

But I wouldn’t swap it for anything.

With a look towards infinity.

It’s got to be better than nothing.

So when we’re all gone

Remember it was all worthwhile –

We didn’t get it wrong.

For though life is a losing game

To live, share and laugh

Makes it worth all the pain.

Opher – 25.10.2019

No matter how well you live your life it always ends in death, tears and loss.

But while we are alive we need to live it to the full. That makes it all worthwhile!

Death where is thy sting?

Poetry – Futility of War

Futility of War

My grandfather fought in the trenches

With the gas, whizzbangs and machinegun rattle.

My father fought in the hills of Italy

With howitzers, tanks and the roar of battle.

Neither would talk of what they’d seen

Of friends mown down like cattle.

They’d both come to realise

That tales of bravery were mere tittle tattle.

The reality was luck

Nothing to do with valour at all.

I was the lucky one

I never had to fight

For Queen or country

Or see our cities set alight.

I never had to question

If this war was wrong or right.

I’ve spent my life in peace

And never had to fight.

For seventy four years that peace has held

The longest time in history.

But do we have to question why?

For it isn’t any mystery?

The United Nations

And the European Union

Have brought nations together,

Not in conflict, but communion.

Far better to talk and trade

In complex collaboration

Rather than to bomb and blast

And remain in isolation.

Opher – 1.10.2019.

Isn’t it obvious that it is better to have partnership and collaboration rather than conflict? Isn’t it obvious that it is better to trade and talk rather than quarrel and fight?

I think so.

Poetry – Time if you please

Time if you please

Meg had been the landlord

Of the Rancid Stoat and Quail

But now at ninety five

She wasn’t pulling ale.

T’was the fire that she was craving

That kept her old bones well.

These days she just huddled close

And listened to the tales.

She’d had a happy childhood

With her sisters, mum and dad.

Wild in the countryside –

Life hadn’t been so bad.

And when she’d been a-courtin’

She’d had her share of bliss

Dancing with the lads

And sharing many a kiss.

But she’d settled down

With her handsome husband Syd

And working well together

Created many a kid.

Those had been the happiest days

With her family all around

A house so full of gaiety

Where laughter was the sound.

No matter how they’d grown

No matter how big they were

Even with families of their own,

They were still just kids to her.

She wondered where the time had gone

The years had flown so fast.

But they were full and happy days

When dwelling on the past.

But now her body lurched.

She felt her heart jerk.

Her whole world was spinning

Before a gathering murk.

With a sigh she slid

From her chair down to her knees

As a voice in her head called:

‘Time – Time if you please!’


This was a title with my writing group. I started to write something funny (as can be seen from the rancid stoat) but I was kind of caught up in a little sentimental story and this is how it came out.

Time was what they used to call in the pubs and ring their bell to signal last orders.

One day it will be time for us all.

Poetry – Endings



                There are no

                                Happy endings –

Just endings.

We leave

                It all behind

                                And are gone.


In our wake

                We leave

                                The imprints

Of our lives.

We live on

                In the people,

                                In the places,

And the minds.

The ripples

                Are echoes

                                Of who we were

In those who knew us.

Opher 2.5.2019

I believe we have a sentimental view of ourselves as something more than what we really are. We like to think that we will always be here, that the universe cannot possibly go on without us, that we will live forever.

I think we are animals, no greater that an ape, a whale, a cat or an amoeba. We are born, we live and we die. We came from nothing and will return to nothing. The universe goes on without us.

It is our consciousness and awareness that makes us feel that we are special. I do not think we are special at all. They are merely more amazing products of evolution.

Hence, in this brief period of sentience when we have this ‘miracle’ of life we should make the most of every glorious second.

We are a long time dead.

Poetry – The destruction of nature

The destruction of nature

Nature on the run

Chemical and gun

Sterilised and sanitised

All creatures despised.

Nature on the run.

Opher 20.3.2019

As we travelled around Morocco I was looking for the wildlife. You would think you’d see a few lizards. I didn’t see much of anything. It seemed devoid of insects too.

In the gardens there were some birds – little oasis of life amid the destruction of nature, but where was the rest of the wildlife?

Poetry – It Kills

It Kills

Every road,

                   Every house,

                                      Every meal,

Every spray,

                   Every baby,

                                      Every dream,


We clear,

                   We disinfect,

                                      We clean,

We cut,

                   We shoot,

                                      We butcher,

                   We live.

The only things that will eventually prosper

          Are the microbes.

Due to all our feats and efforts

They will inherit

The Earth.

Opher 3.4.2019

Everything we do adds to the entropy of the universe. Everything kills.

We seem intent on wiping out all the creatures we can. Those we don’t eat, or keep as pets, we destroy.

We hunt for fun and spray for profit.

A hundred years from now there may not be a single wilderness or wild animal.

A thousand years from now the earth may be the home for bacterial sludge.

The Cost of Success

The Cost of Success

The price of success is measured in dollars.

The cost of success is measured in death.

Trees crash to the ground

As nature reels and gives up its breath.

Short-term plunder is the name of the game

Long-term consequences on the long road of shame.

For making bucks isn’t the main thing that counts

If the damage done just mounts and mounts.

Opher 26.12.2017

Sadly all that people seem to care about is making money and feathering their own nest. Nobody gives a damn about the impact this has on other people or nature.

We are destroying the planet to finance another yacht.

Success is measured in how much money you have made, not in how fulfilling a life you’ve led, not in how much love you’ve generated, not in how much good you’ve done.

Somehow I think this society has got its values wrong.