Bill Wright

The old man looked up, glasses on head
Sitting in his own chair, by the fireplace.
Aye, I know what you want to do, he said
As he went to the table, and cleared a space.
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We didn't want Corona
But it's here to haunt us
It's come to taunt us
We didn't want Corona
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The last train rumbles out
The smell of soot fills the air
Midnight strikes.
Late night revellers stagger home
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Wow, I recall Varanasi.
The spectacle, a kaleidoscope of colour
A cacophony of noise. Crowds milling
Devotedly. Mother Ganges in full flow.
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Yes, I love Edinburgh
The smells, the sights, the sounds
The Festival, autumnal August
Wonderful. The crowds up on the Mound
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It was an image which shocked the world,
Face down upon the shore,
That desperate, drowned Syrian boy,
No more than three or four.
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This is the story of Ada and the Doc,
A tale of love and passion,
Of a treacherous and murderous deed,
And a trial that enthralled the nation.
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I

The children were happy at school that day,
Eager for the Half Term holiday,
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Amazed, the young fan looks
Upon the waving sea of banners
Fluttering in the wind
Stands still in wonder
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'Is there nobody living here now? ', we said,
Slowly walking along the path,
Gannets and fulmars screeching overhead,
Above the pristine, windswept grass.
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Let's walk the deck,
Take in the sights,
Waves tossing and turning,
With all their might,
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‘Tis more than forty years ago we wed
The lady of my love and my life
That sweet young girl with hair of auburn red
The one I am now proud to call my wife
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I shine in the sun, sturdy and strong.
I have to be.
Men's lives are in my hands.
Up, up and up they climb.
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They say it is all online now
I tell them to get lost
I want it the way it was before
Just send it through the post
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I saw him running down the road,
I watched it happen on TV,
A first sub two hour marathon
By that Kenyan Kipchoge
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I am a weary weaver
Working at our local mill
Twelve hours a day I sweat
Oh why am I here still?
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I saw him on the slopes today
The Kestrel
Just hovering
He was twenty feet off the ground
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Every year I still go out,
In search of a purple patch,
Of brambles.
I have done it as a child,
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While I was on my walk today,
As far as the eye could see,
The sky above and the sea below,
Were fifty shades of gray.
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