Poetry and poets thrive at the RCPYC, with regular poetry evenings in the club calendar. The next one will be Wed 22 March, 19.30, with guest local writer Matthew Sykes.
Patricia Peak, one of the club's leading lights, has penned a new poem (read on...).
FLARING UP
A favour was asked of me by a friend
To dispose of some out-of-date flares.
“She’ll be apples, mate,” I said,
Not foreseeing the snares.
So into me backpack I shove them things,
And off to the Lifeboats I go -
I’d heard they’re the place for proper disposal
Of things what ain’t fireworks you know.
“Ah no,” says the man, ever so nice,
“Health and Safety won’t let us!”
The Coastguard’s the place for things like that,
Up on the cliffs above us.
If disposal’s so very difficult
The Question which springs to my mind
Is, won’t they be ditched or illegally fired?
“They do, and we’re called out, we find.”
But back to my problem, “I don’t have a car,
It’s a bloody long way to walk!”
“Ah yes,” says the man, he gives me a number.
Connected, a posh voice talks.
He questions me, like, how many there are.
“I dunno. I’ll have to look.
They’re under me oranges in me bag!”
“They’re where?” he says, sounding shocked.
I know from the tone of his voice on the line,
I’m risking sudden death,
Though how the things survive the waves
Is really anyone’s guess.
He assumes I have a car of course,
What sort of ratbag wouldn’t?
I half hope he’ll offer to pick them up.
He doesn’t, he can’t or he couldn’t.
So up that weary hill I trudges,
Right to the very top,
Where I’m told that the Coastguard soon won’t be able
To act as disposal stop.
So what’s the solution, oh amateur seaman?
What’s the latest proposal,
If out-of-date flares are not permitted,
But neither’s their easy disposal?