Nice and Warm

Nice and Warm

You are nice and warm
my loved one said
and I replied, prosaically
that is because
I got my bed socks on!

The Turn of a Phrase

 I wrote this poem earlier this morning and it has rather stunned me!  We were in the process of getting an affidavit signed, when it occurred to me that the most important phrase in the document was very old and that it had a lot of history attached to it.

I am still working on this piece.....changing the odd word here and there, trying to get the rhythm just right.  This is a process that will continue for some weeks to come.

The Turn of a Phrase
by
Tom Roach

there is a phrase
the sound of which
transports my mind
to nether regions
of our written history

i ask myself
how many men and women
have espoused these words
and
with what degree
of real sincerity

what consequences
hung upon their saying
how many lives
ended or continued
on their statement

what were the fortunes
made or lost
marriages arranged
or broken
children found
or lost forever

how many times
have two people
stood and looked
intently at each other
and then
one was heard to speak:
I make oath and say.....

Newsmen of our World

Newsmen of our World
by
Tom Roach

Newsmen of our world
are extremely lucky.
They have the Olympic Games
upon which to report.
Nothing else is happening.

Oh sure, two Syrians met and killed each other.
People got their rocks off
cursing and swearing at those who should be their friends.
In Indonesia,
a volcano destroyed an island, costing many lives.

While here at home,
a teenager killed three
because he was lonely
and filled with jealousy.

But all this pales in significance
when compared to THE OLYMPIC GAMES.
Nations compete for medals
and if they win, they are better than their neighbour.
(Actually, athletes compete, they represent humanity,
but are not countries. Do you understand?)

Lots of news is there.
Athletes show their humanness
when they slip and fall.
The more spectacular the crash
the better then the picture.

But really, there is nothing happening.
We move smoothly along
toward the sixth extinction,
the only one caused by ourselves.
The one I will never see.

When the Soldiers Come

When the Soldiers Come
by
Tom Roach

Oh Mummy, Mummy, Mummy
please can you tell me
when the soldiers come
will they the children kill?

Yes, they will kill the children.
Children are the Nation’s future
and the soldiers don’t want that.

Oh Mummy, Mummy, Mummy
please can you tell me
when the soldiers come
will they kill the Aunts and Uncles
and the Grans and Gramps?

If they stand gains’t tyranny,
my child, they will surely die.

Oh Mummy, Mummy, Mummy
please can you tell me
when the soldiers come
what about the young?

They’ll be on the streets
dear child, watering the flowers.
We will not see their like again......

Oh Mummy, Mummy, Mummy
please can you tell me
when the soldiers come
will they kill you and me?

No, that they cannot do.
We are the Nation round the world.
We are too many
and they, thank God, too few.

The Saddest Thing

 Friends tell me this poem is about loneliness.  I am not so sure.  I think it is about life and its risks.

The saddest thing
by
Tom Roach


The saddest thing
is a grand old tree
smashed to the ground
in a storm.

The saddest thing
is a memory gone
leaving no trace
or emotion.

The saddest thing
is an aged dog
licking your hand
in farewell.

The saddest thing
is an old friend
desperate
for attention.

But, the saddest thing of all
is a friendship lost
by a word
that cannot be retrieved.