Blockhead

 'No-one but a blockhead ever wrote except for money'

                                                             Samuel Johnson

OK so I'm a blockhead.

Welcome

 I hope you enjoy reading from this collection

as much as I enjoyed writing it.

(more poems in 'SAO' by Michael Amor on Kindle

an overland trip around S. America)

TYPICAL

The bird fluttered upwards vertically.

Watching I waited for its singing

but it just flew away. Typically

Shelley got skylark; I got starling.

At the top of the plots

I sat here at sunset a week ago and bemoaned all vanishing Nature.

In past years I had watched bats hunting along the allotments hedgerow

but last week there was nothing flying except a partying blackbird.

Today I enjoyed the glowing sunset, silken sky and a single cloud

and as the land darkened, the sky above the streamside trees exploded

to a distant forest fire enfringing the whole width of the horizon.

The lonely cloud evaporated and Venus edged slowly eastwards

narrowly missing a collision with a plane from the nearby airport.

Then suddenly a twist and a turn in the air above my head !

A bat fluttered by and then another - relief, Nature ascendent.

PEACE PLAN

We'd clear the rubble from bombed buildings

and build some new ones, re-span bridges,

renew power and water networks,

re-create whole cities from scratch.

But what we can't do is raise the dead,

or heal the hurt or calm the hatred.