Political Energy

At the present time all the energy
is with the Right, not the Left.

To the pot-bellied talcum-powdered
body-politic of the Tory is attached

a nasty festering UKIP sore and
the rotting deliquescence of the Liberals

both of which give off
an energy of sorts.

Old Man Labour dozes, snoozes, sleeps
but cannot even raise a snore.

The Greens are fine
for sitting around with in fields

but soft-edged and un-forged
in coal or steel or grime

though in time I imagine
my own children turning to them

seeing their Dad
as some kind of old red dinosaur.

Richard Devereux is a political dinosaur from Bristol

Tribal

I am tribal.
My politics are red.
My football team is blue.

I’ll never vote Tory.
I am for the many
not the few.

I’ll never cheer The Vile.
I am Baggies
through and through.

The Vile are Aston Villa.
Prince William and David Cameron
claim to be fans.

The Baggies are West Bromwich Albion.
After he came home from World War One
granddad had a trial.

I am tribal.
My allegiances are clear.
I don’t have to think about them.

thoughts of support

arrive
the instant they are sent

they ignore the miles
unerringly find
the one intended

John Cantlie
the CIA don’t know
where you are held
by ISIS

our thoughts do

the thought of support
I just sent you
already slipped
under your door

wiggle your toes
and you will feel it

each one of our thoughts
is a tiny brick

with them
you must build a high tower
climb up to the top
and wave at us all

hello or thanks or goodbye

Richard Devereux is a poet based in Bristol. He is a member of the Lansdown Poets. His first love is Greece but a recurring theme now is the jihad.

Bitter Lemons

Lemons weep
the tears of Aphrodite.
Bitter lemons –
these are the fruit
this earth considers hers.

The lemon tree is nourished
in a rich potash
of blood, whole corpses and tears;
ensuring the yield
of another bitter crop.

The lemon tree
remembers only
bitter lemons.

Richard Devereux is a member of the Lansdown Poets in Bristol. He has read this year at the Cheltenham and Nailsworth Poetry Festivals. His first love is Greece; he is currently absorbed in writing about his grandfather – a soldier of the First World War in Salonica.