Graham Fowell Poems
|43.||Missing In Acton||3/12/2015|
Comments about Graham Fowell
I saw a fly trapped
In a long abandoned spider's web.
The web weaver moved on to better pickings
Or herself taken by a bird,
The predicament of the fly - ensnared in an untended trap,
Was to be doomed to a meaningless end,
A casualty of a gap in the natural order,
To struggle and die in vain
So I carefully liberated the fly
Who sat nearby for a while,
Washing his face,
Untangling his feet,
Sorting his wings out - then,
In the early morning June sunshine,
He flew off with a sort of Victory Roll,
Loop the ...
An Ordinary Monday
We got used to thinking
It was Bank Holiday weekend,
The Gregorian Calendar
Had picked the time we'd spend.
Attending to our cauliflowers,
Then drinking until late,
Dictated to by bankers,
Who control the modern state.