TOPIC:

Autumn leaves falling
Dance upon a breeze
Kaleidoscope of colour
Sleep cascading trees

By Andrew K Fletcher

Freedom he sought, handlebars gripped
So short life's laughter and spirit now ripped
On two wheels in Devon a young soul rides
In Heaven burning rubber another soul slides.

by Andrew K Fletcher

Originally written: 23/10/2008
While walking through London a long time ago, my wife and I saw hundreds of people walking around with bowler hats, brief cases, umbrellas, women in power suits, posh new cars. It was at the time all of the office windows were blown out of a huge tower block by a bomb. The streets were strewn with “so called important documents” As people paid them no attention and trod them into the gutter going about their mundane lives, busy doing nothing worthwhile.

I turned to my wife and said, “You see all of these people here dressed to impress, they do not contribute anything to the global economy, it is all smoke and mirrors, adding that every single one of them is feeding off the backs of the working class and it is a tremendous burden for people to carry on their already over burdened shoulders. One day the smoke will clear from the mirrors and people will see for themselves how useless these grossly overpaid controllers really are.

When Thatcher destroyed our once proud manufacturing capabilities and taxation together with rising fuel costs made absolutely certain that it would never return, we were told that London would become the business centre of the whole world.
No one believed it at the time. And why would they if this power house could not even run it’s own industry what bloody chance does it have of running other countries industries?

When a country stops producing it becomes a major importer of goods. Shopping malls replace factories and service industries thrive fore a short time. People who used to be able to afford to buy the goods from the local shops, with their meagre wages and have a pint and a smoke at the local pub find they can’t afford to eat and keep their homes warm. The local pub, once somewhere to have a warm and socialise over a hard earned pint, now forces it’s loyal customers to sit outside in the cold and rain, where gangs of passing youth’s pick them off one by one, even kicking them to death or stabbing them. We know, our family lost a young harmless lad aged 19 outside one such pub.

And now the true nature of the well suited Bankers with a capital W is finally exposed and the day of reckoning has descended upon their greedy self serving shameful misuse of power, who is left to pick up the tab?

After all, they did the maths, had computer projections, computer models, it all added up on those same important bits of paper my wife and I walked over on that day in London.

Andrew K Fletcher

By Andrew K Fletcher 22nd June 03

Now the trees have gone

When roads turn into rivers and people fall and die.
When the only growth is concrete, reaching for the sky.
Desert winds blowing, fan the mighty flame.
Forest but a memory, don't even have a name.
Seagulls feeding inland, dive upon the tips.
Pipelines belch out sewage, exposing telltale slicks
Ocean levels rising, stink of rotten fish,
No longer do they live here, or end up in our dish.
Now the oil stops flowing, and gushing from the floor,
And water is the reason for which we go to war.
Tankers held at ransom, await the highest prices,
Now the tides have turned and water is the crisis.
By Andrew K Fletcher

The old man and his dog

The bull terrier stands aloof and proud
Head and shoulders above the canine crowd
Trained in bygone days to be a fearless foe
Now puts forward his skill in competition show.

Times have passed since
Romans ruled the day
Now roman noses have their say
Tooth fang and claw would mix it
Now spring of rib and depth of brisket
Strength of muzzle and wicked eyes
No blood spilt and no one dies

Always giving the knowing look
Will read you like an open book
Loves each challenge when facing a test
With deft cunning skill gives his best
A breed with an indelible name
The English bull terrier and hard earn’t fame

From royalty down to any
Tom—Dick or Bill
Tales and stories continue to fill
No better site will grace our land
Than the old man parading bully
Past the judges stand

Author Ken Fletcher

Home Alone

Tick tock mental block time to take stock
Hands pass chimes while sunshine falters
Day dulls grey in shadows hidings
Noisy strangers shout then quiet stifles

Along razors edge walks humanity
Sanitized thoughts testing patient sanity
Juggling balanced along life's takings
Tempers stifled in rulers makings

Curtain drowns impoverished pride
Frosted pain in widow's window
Dignity leached with each breath
How we long for our companion

Cold and lonely comes our death

Andrew K Fletcher 10th October 2009

True Spooky Story Play this after reading it.
This tune brings back a really spooky memory for my wife and I every time we hear it.
Our car broke down on the A303, Managed to find a place to pull in before the car ground to a halt and lifted the bonnet to find out what was wrong. Noticed some old rusty tools and plumbing bits scattered around the pull in but took no notice. Asked Jude to try the car again because I could not find anything wrong, the car fired up first time and for 2 years that we kept it after, it never broke down again. Anyway, we drove away on our long journey and about 5 minutes after pulling away, I turned to Jude, who I know can't whistle, just to see if it was here that was whistling a tune I knew but could not quite remember, to find she was also looking at me to see if I was whistling. Both of us looked very puzzled as no radio was on in the car. Jude said someone must have got in the car with us. No one visible at least got in the car as I would have known about it. Jude looked in the back to make sure adding “If anyone is I the car with us, we don’t mind and you are very welcome to stay with us. A little further down the road the same tune though somewhat quieter echoed around the car and again we looked at each other. We never heard the whistling again.

A few days later I realised the name of the tune that we heard from the cryptically whistling part, which appeared to come from the back seats of the car.

That was also really spooky because the song title was “looking back over your shoulder”, which was exactly what my wife and I had been doing along the darkened early morning journey after our very odd break down, me being a good mechanic and all. I then learned the tune was by Mike and the Mechanics. Now this was becoming too much of a coincidence to bear. I have to understand something or it simply is not happening. Yet that night it definitely did happen and to this day I do not have an explanation for it.

Jude is into spiritual stuff. Me, well not a great fan of the most haunted programmes to put it mildly. She said someone must have got in the car with us that morning during the darkened hours. I just told a friend the same story here at our home and showed the video of Mike and the Mechanics only for him to point out it is a grave yard scene. Gulp…….

Silence flows like a babbling brook across smooth stones
Glistening shimmering waters edge beckons out for chilling
Crayfish follow and challenge teasing toe moments
Trout leaping to touch a silvery moon fall and anoint our thoughts
A heron stabs and studies and stabs some more and quickly swallows

Wolf calls but seldom seen we feel its soulful knoll play upon our spine
Looking for those calculating eyes amid the pines and nettle
We quickly gather thoughts with pace and run for steam and kettle
The door is closed the room is dark the cup is filled and bed is calling
Heart pounding we extend our ears to night and tomorrow seek another fright

Written 22 July 08
Andrew K Fletcher

Today
Heated at the furnace, forged from toil
Quenched in sweat, and hardened by time,
Kissed by airborne molten steel
Fed on promise and humble pie,
I dine but not alone, my needs are few
But fewer still my gains
Today I laugh

laying awake, glary eyed and cold,
Disbelieve the sadness that unfolds
Remembering schools, the emphasise placed
On using tools, Learn a trade and skills
To strive for higher goals
The lesson learned is how to fight
Today I smile

Sitting alone on Buryhill Bank
So quiet now, tranquillised by deprivation
Yesterday Hooters sound, Stampings slam
Smoke belching from every orifice
Lights like thousands of fireflies
Pulsate memories now
Today I think

Northward bound in search of hope
I stare in disbelief
Foundations where proud factories stood
Desolation far as my eyes can see
Sickened angry, yet for the people sad
Was this bombsite Sheffield?
Is progress really shopping-malls?
Today I wipe a tear from my chin

You know what you have done
More destruction than Hitler caused
Everywhere I look I see your mark
Remember this,
They who sow nothing shall reap the same
Sit on your money pile but guard it well today

By Andrew K Fletcher enduring Thatcherism

TIME

Time we chase
Across an endless sky
Has no wings
Yet seems to fly
Seconds rush swiftly
Like a flowing spring

Like a flash of lightning
Our life does pass
Which we tend to treasure and preserve
Throughout life’s everyday dash
From dawn till dusk
We try to cope
But ever passing of time
Gives us little scope

On and on like the sea years flow
And just like a cork
We get tossed to and fro
Everyone’s life around time revolve
A mystery which no one
Seems to ever solve

AUTHOR KEN FLETCHER

BLACK COUNTY POET

LEST WE FORGET

The weather bleak
Home far away
Trenches filling with comrades
Before light of day
Brow cold from dripping sweat
Tired body shaking from battles roar
As a front line soldier had
Seen it all before

Thoughts dwell to a far off land
Way out of reach
To that nice little cottage
By a sandy beach
Some day this bitter war will cease
And my chances of
Survival increase

Time running out
Will soon be gone
With the rest of the lads
To a dreaded front line
Where battle rages on
Over the top lads
Came that commanding cry
All as one
They charge on by

Light seemed to end
Time had stood still
As another unsung hero
Fell never more to rise
At the foot of
His last hill

AUTHOR KEN FLETCHER

BLACK COUNTRY POET

A Sight To Behold


In a blaze of colour
Bursts forth an early spring
A multitude of plant life comes alive
And birds begin to sing
In the distance a lark calls from the sky
Bringing a peaceful feeling to all passing by

Summer clouds flow across the milky way
Wildlife of every breed
Flit along by light of day
My eager footsteps
Take me across fields so green
As my thoughts dwell on each breathtaking scene

A light wind softly caresses blossom filled trees
Surrounded by a swarm
Of hardworking bees
Year after year
Still have that same feeling
As I witness natures beauty
Get more revealing

Think’s if only the whole world could see
Such a beautiful show
That’s standing here in front of me
Not one or even two
But a hill covered
With a sea of blue

A host of bluebells
Stand out so proud
Impressive to each one
Of an ever increasing crowd
Another wonder of our world
A majestic sight that lies unfurled