A sudden thunder

A sudden thunder clap 

and cold rain fell to soak 

while all beneath the torrent 

scrambled to find shelter. 

It roused me from my nap 

beneath the gnarled old oak 

and found me running bent 

while fleeing helter-skelter 

The rains fell fast and ruthless 

the vicious winds were frightening 

the skies were darkest black 

as fire struck the trees 

I ran ‘till I was breathless 

while fearing for the lightning 

then reached my wooden shack 

where I fell gasping to my knees 

Steve Wheeler © 29 October, 2020

Photo from Pixy

Bonfires

Moses once stood near a burning bush 

Nero fiddled while Rome burned out 

The twin towers collapsed in a mighty rush 

'Cos there's plenty of arson about 

People like burning things just for fun 

The Brits razed the White House to the ground 

Books burned in Fahrenheit 451 

Yeah, there's plenty of arson around 

Wild fires and conflagrations 

Are hard to extinguish we've found 

Notre Dame's towers are belching smoke 

There's a truckload of arson around 

It's written in Samuel Pepys' diary 

That the Great Fire took days to burn out 

He said it was started by accident 

But there's still too much arson about 

Through the Armada, Drake's fireships tore 

The Dresden firestorm was a rout 

These fires were deliberate acts of war 

And there's far too much arson about 

Light the blue touch paper and retire, 

Fireworks make us gasp and shout 

Just don't be seduced by the bonfire 

'Cos there's far too much arson about 

Steve Wheeler © 28 October, 2020

Photo from Wikimedia Commons

Idiom proof

Time is running out 

but no-one ever follows. 

Grief is a bitter pill 

that everybody swallows. 

Hope is a symphony 

played on one instrument. 

Deeds without faith 

are like broken ornaments. 

When love lies abandoned, 

washed up on a shore, 

life is a sad poem, 

no less and no more. 

Steve Wheeler © 26 October, 2020

image source

Angry

His anger was all bottled up inside 

fermenting in a soup of hurt and pride 

when they shook him up, he locked and loaded 

inevitably, he blew his top and exploded 

Steve Wheeler © 25 October, 2020

Graphic by Steve Wheeler

Hidden verse

there are poems hidden in graffiti 

verses secreted in the urban scrawl. 

meaning hides itself within the artwork 

and in the pictures on the subway wall. 

stark may be the mural sketching 

but a simple truth is lurking there. 

its message to the ones that seek 

is written clearly: ‘we don’t care.’ 

rhythmic beats emerge in colours 

from the concrete stand and boundary wall. 

the tempo screams that we are human 

the rhythm beats that we stand tall. 

there are poems hidden in graffiti. 

there are messages within the street motif. 

none of us should ever shy from freedom, 

individual identity and self-belief. 

Steve Wheeler © 25 October, 2020

Photo by Steve Wheeler

Up, red balloon

A red balloon in azure skies 

aloft with helium grace it flies 

released by small hands into blue 

in minutes disappearing from view 

Rising through the firmament 

'til upward impetus is spent 

its navigation yet unknown 

up, red balloon, and by the winds be blown 

Steve Wheeler © 23 October, 2020

Photo by Pxhere

Foreign skies

Photo from Pixy

under foreign skies 

we all wander 

our eyes wide, gazing 

searching for landmarks 

amid unfamiliar places 

trying to remember 

we are all foreigners 

in this distant land 

far from our birthplaces, 

disconnected from our times, 

severed from our country 

our belongings are scattered 

across our histories 

strewn in the highways 

of our memories 

and hanging, caught among 

the briar thorns of our regrets 

how many times 

my father wandered 

aimlessly searching 

for familiar places he remembered, 

while the world around him changed 

Steve Wheeler © 23 October, 2020

No, that will never happen

The sun will never cease to rise 

nor endless orbits of the planets run, 

and I will never shine within your eyes. 

No, that will never happen. 

The clock will never cease to chime, 

the sands of time will not run out, 

and never will your love be mine. 

No, that will never happen. 

As morning surely brushes low the night, 

I will hopelessly pursue your favour 

but you will never sense my fiery light. 

No, that will never happen. 

Perpetual motion as the years go by 

the tides and seasons run their cycles 

and my love for you will never die. 

No, that will never happen. 

Steve Wheeler © 20 October, 2020

Image breaker

image breaker a spoken oath, a darkly uttered phrase, 

an incantation of this planet’s ancient days 

spawned occult runes and twisted ideology 

that stained a moment in our human history 

an image, black on field of red and white; 

a tainted, whirling, devastating rite 

upon dark uniforms of hatred worn 

while death oaths of allegiance were sworn 

swift rise of blind hatred and ambition 

flags raised grimly for an evil mission 

riding a vile wave of nationalistic pride 

toward the deadly goal of ethnic genocide 

that moment all humanity now abhors 

reborn inside our eve-present wars 

those torrid memories of a darker past 

countless victims of a vain iconoclast 

how could this tragedy unfold? we plead 

as we reflect upon those gruesome deeds 

systemised slaughter for a vicious racial slur 

state sponsored murder that would not demur 

for all we treasured through and through 

and once held up as wholesome and true, 

was crushed by jackboots on a stony floor 

full shattered, perhaps to rise no more

yet from the splintered crystal came 

a firm determination to regain 

a higher purpose than that howling corps 

that spun a million pieces to the floor 

the tyrant’s power and strength can only thrive 

inside the fears of subjugated lives 

rise up therefore, and let your courage break 

your mental chains for all humanity’s sake 

smash the despot’s dark insignia hard 

fracture his hateful symbols into shards 

his acolytes must ever be pursued 

their fascist image never more to be renewed 

Steve Wheeler © 15 October, 2020

image source

You have been warned

It doesn’t take much to trigger me 

to get me on my hind legs, suddenly. 

You’d only have to condescend 

to make my forehead veins distend. 

You’d end up the recipient 

of a tirade you wished you could prevent. 

Invective would flow like an autumn storm, 

so don’t hack me off. You have been warned. 

He might look like a ball of fluff 

but that dog is dangerous enough. 

He’s vicious and his teeth will tear 

and you will spoil your underwear. 

He’ll try to tear you limb from limb 

if you should dare to mess with him 

and you will wish you’d not been born. 

So don’t pat the dog. You have been warned. 

A wife should always be adored. 

She doesn’t deserve to be ignored. 

My boss learnt this the hardest way 

When his wife found out he’d played away. 

He ended up in bandages 

When she cut off his allowances. 

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 

Remember this. You have been warned. 

Steve Wheeler © 5 October, 2020

Graphic by Steve Wheeler