DJ Tyrer, three poems



Southend’s Shroud

Pall of smoke
Hanging above rooftops
As if town ablaze
Approach out of curiosity
Realise not smoke but fog
Dark and dense
Rolling up Pier Hill from the sea
At the top of the High Street
Summer sun blazes brightly
A world away from here
At the bottom of the High Street
Where a seeming-solid wall stands
Then it is gone
Rolling back down the hill
Retreating to the sea
Where the world-famous pier
Is a vague line in the darkness
And beside it two fishing boats
Impressionistic blurs
Reality and reflection inseparable
On the grey canvas
Painted in shadow


Storm of Words

Extreme weather
Fails to manifest for many
Despite promises, panic
At the thought of a new Great Storm
Worst since ‘87
Despite the build up
Delighted reporters proclaim disaster
For some it passes by a few miles away
Elsewhere a minor nuisance
Less damage than human vandals achieve
The worst of the damage
Is blamed on human activity
The digging up of roads severing roots
So that trees cannot stand
Until all it takes
Are a few joking words on Twitter
To raise a stronger wind
A storm of words


Two Lives

A weekend of excitement
Gone wild
On the rampage
No holds barred
Do whatever they will
Going all the way
Crossing the line
Not once
But twice
Runs riot
Just as they do
Thinking themselves
A latter-day Bonnie and Clyde
Only without the style
Or steely core
Just amorality
And two lives to sell

©DJ Tyrer
photo©Stratos Fountoulis, Athens 2011


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