imperialism (Remove filter)
A bowler's lament
1976, that summer’s heat making light work of my shoddy whites.
Sweat beads slip from my crown, wiped from my brow,
They run the bails of my fingers, to where a rubicund sphere sits.
As a boy, it held no mystery, taught me no lessons,
It told no lies, held no surprise, a simple ball to my eyes.
And I, a player in its game, out in the field, making up the numbers.
That cri...
Thursday 22nd April 2021 3:06 pm
Tribute
I wrote this two years ago, long before the Windrush scandal hit the headlines.
When them set sail on Empire Windrush
Them leave behind sun, sea and sand
Yes, them set forth upon Windrush,
Them a tropical collection of hands,
When all them set foot on Windrush;
Next stop, the promised Motherland
So, them all on board Empire Windrush
All four hundred and ninety-two...
Wednesday 10th April 2019 8:32 pm
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