Fights ahead

I came across a new word, Kuffarophobia.
This is the irrational hatred of non-Muslims by some Muslims.
Like all hate it has to be challenged and confronted and not appeased.
Sadly many leaders just do not think that way, until too late.
(And no, I do not hate the religions of others)

tempest

Fights ahead

Now who can debate with irrational hate
Discuss with old books from the past?
Alas, now too late it seems a dark fate,
So, we’re left here all sad and aghast.

We may feel lost, our fate, storm tossed
As we cope with the hatred and bile.
Through all the cost, we may seem, star-crossed;
The brave they stay true all the while.

While none may debate with irrational hate
Where madness possesses each mind.
Fate ever late will bring forth the Great,
Where life here had seemed so unkind.

We’ll turn and we’ll stand and face all at hand,
And drive back the hallowers of hate.
For we know that here, this is Our land,
Let the bigots of bile face their fate.

© Trevor Morgan, 28/5/2018

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Sorties away

Long time ago I was in the operations room of a carrier as she turned into the wind and launched a whole squadron of her aircraft. As a radar operator I tracked them until they went below our radar horizon. Strange something as mighty as a carrier has to turn into the wind to launch a strike. This is predictable and ought to make them vulnerable, but they operate within a screen of escorts that are needed to protect them.

sorties away

Sorties away

Carriers turned into the wind
In distant deep wide seas
And now because some fools had sinned;
The world is out of ease.

And sortie after sortie went
To deal a hammer blow.
With a resolve that won’t relent
They’re sent to cause more woe.

The carrion of the deep will feed
Upon much mortal flesh
And madness will not yet recede;
We’re all caught in its mesh.

Carriers turned back on their course
Their sorties are away,
But actions done without remorse,
May cause yet more dismay.

Trevor Morgan 2015

From: “Saga of Sabah”

Skye Bridge Song

Some old sentimental songs lend themselves to parody.
I see nothing romantic about the rebellion of 1745 and the disaster it caused to many of the common folk of Scotland. 
What is great about the Skye Bridge is now it is so much easier to get to the beautiful Isle of Skye.

 
Skye Bridge
 

Skye Bridge Song(Tune: Sky boat song)

Rattle rusty van
Like a can on a string;
Over the bridge to Skye.

There’s now no toll
To drive on this thing;
That’s on the road to Skye.

Carry the sad
And all that they bring;
All the way over to Skye.

They’ve come to take
A break from the stress;
Some lazy days on Skye.

They’re come to make
A real bloody mess;
And litter the paths of Skye.

So rattle rusty van
Like a tin on a string;
Bouncing along round Skye

Yes rattle rusty van
Like a can on a string;
Over the bridge to Skye.

©Trevor Morgan 2002

Note:
The original romantic lyric follows:

Skye Boat Song

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that’s born to be king
Over the sea to Skye
Loud the wind howls
loud the waves roar
Thunderclaps rend the air
Baffled our foes
stand by the shore
Follow they will not dare
Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that’s born to be king
Over the sea to Skye

When you consider this is about Charles Stewart, who led a rebellion to disaster then left with all the gold it is plain sloppy. He ended an obese dissolute waster.

Laura’s Starlight

The vile scandal of child rapes in Rotherham is a horror story.
One of the survivors has written a book about this and the murder of her sister, Laura, in a so-called, honour killing.
This song lyric was inspired by one paragraph in Sarah’s book.

SarahWilson

Laura’s Starlight

There’s a star in the night
High above all the spite
But the cause of great loss still remains.
The sun’s in the sky
And the song birds fly high
But a whole town is riven with pains.

Dark waters had hid
The dark deeds demons did
The day that dear Laura was slain.
Searchers had found
Some blood on the ground
And a shoe that bore a red stain.

Now Hope won’t elope
In the arms of despair,
There will be no surrender to fear.
The starlight so bright
Shines down its sweet light,
An Angel seems now with us here.

With strength, we shall share,
Here and everywhere,
The burdens of what must be done.
Till we set to flight
All lewd lust and spite
And justice and truth will have won.

 

© Trevor Morgan, June 2016

 

Tide Line

A walk along the high tide line of a shore reveals much.
I love to walk the tide line.

tideline

Tide Line

This weed at the tide line
Where flies are swarming near,
The flotsam and the grime;
The stink that brings no cheer.

The beach above the line,
There’s pebbles damp with rain.
They glisten in the sunshine
Around each little stain.

Below the dirty beach
The shore is washed more clean.
Where cleansing waves can reach,
At low tide there’s a sheen.

Below each rock or stone
Shrimps hide at low tide.
Worms heap up each sand cone;
Sand flats are wet and wide.

Here when you lift a rock
The shrimps will dart away.
They flee the sudden shock
Exposed to light of day.

The shore’s a varied place
Some of its full of mess.
But it’s so touched with Grace,
There’s more here than you’d guess.

By weeds at the tide line
The flies they swarming until
The storm clouds are a sign
And weather’s cold and chill

© Trevor Morgan, 2005

From: “Tale of a Half Dane Child”

The writhing of the grieving dragon

Vikings may have attacked monasteries in retaliation for attacks on them.
Christian zealots such as Boniface had been destroying sacred groves and the Carolingians had enforced conversion with a policy of be baptised or killed, the font or the axe, across their northern borders.
This was before the first raid on Lindisfarne in 793AD.
This makes for a more interesting interpretation of events.
In my narratives I chose this theory as it makes a backdrop for ripping yarns

The writhing of the grieving dragon

“A Dragon grieved beside his nest,
His young and mate lay dead.
His tender love then failed this test;
Cold rage burned in his head.

He rode the wave on that cold sea,
Found monks on its far shore.
There seemed a sad pre-destiny
To pains that their Church bore.”

Dragon’s wrath

“The rage, the wrath, the foam, the froth,
The Dragon stormed to sea.
His Love was fragile as a Moth
And now had ceased to be.

It seemed his fate to seethe with hate,
Strike shore of other lands.
He changed then from his natural state,
So, blood now soaks the sands.

Through wrath and rage he wrote a page
Of blood-soaked history.
Why he should fade from off that stage
Might seem a mystery.

But rage and woe will make a foe
Retaliate or die.
Their ebb may then return to flow,
Events then sweep all by.”

Dragon’s Decline

The Dragon’s rage did not abate,
With him grew fat the Raven.
A love that’s twisted into hate
Could well at end turn craven.

The plunder that dark vengeance brings
Would turn from need to greed.
There’s some things may come with such stings;
At end the Dragon bleeds.

Vengeance may start momentum up,
Great mischief has begun.
Like drinking from a poison cup,
All Hope in life is done.

© Trevor Morgan, 2018

From: “Tales of the Half Dane Child”

Note:

The dragon was carved on the prow of Norse ships of war.
It is strange that in Europe the Dragon is fierce whilst in Chinese myth they are capable of being kindly to folk.

JAPANESE PRINTS AND A PORCELAIN VASE

Strange how writing comedy lyrics is harder than the dramatic!

JAPANESE PRINTS AND A PORCELAIN VASE

A guy asked me to dinner
So we could break the ice,
I very soon discovered
He had a secret vice.
I didn’t get to know him
For every time he speaks
All that he can talk of
Is his PASSION – for antiques!

Chorus

I didn’t get to know him,
I was lost and in a maze
Of Japanese prints and a porcelain vase.

So if I gathered dust
Like some old antique urn,
That could just be the way
In which I might return.
Then he would love me
And he’d not find a fault.
He’d treat me with respect
Then lock me in a vault!

Chorus

So let the cobwebs gather
On some other gal.
It’s time for me to say:
“So long darling and farewell”.
Cos’ I don’t want to know him
For every time he speaks
All that he can talk of
Is his PASSION – for antiques!

Chorus

I was lost and in a maze
Of porcelain prints and a Japanese vase

Of Japanese prints and a porcelain vase

 

© Trevor Morgan 1998

From: lyrics for “Candy Blue”

Sonnet – Ragnarök

Poems about Vikings are a bit of a gift.
A gift that is to those who like hamming it up.

It also gives free range for narrative verse and ballads.
Shame the Vikings were real and they put England through long years of brutal wars.

Ragnarök

Sonnet – Ragnarök

All know Odhinn and Loki are to clash
As order and disorder are at odds.
When each will cause the other one to crash
And bring about the twilight of the gods.
Then Lady Hel will open up her realm
And Balder and Blind Hoth resume their fight,
And each in turn will seize and hold the helm
As Balder rules all day and Hoth at night.
Then Fri will fall into a restless sleep
And all the Earth will face a sad decline,
Great monsters will sink back into the deep
With russet sunsets days will end so fine.
The Cosmos came from Chaos at its birth
And in the time to come all find their worth.

©Trevor Morgan, 2018

From: “Tale of the Half-Dane child”

Bowlegged Buck

I like country music.
I like it because the lyrics are so integral to the art form.
Also although the songs are about Mamma, trains, getting drunk, etc., they also have a good tradition of the comic lyric.
I dedicate this to all boys named Sue!

Bowlegged Buck

A bowlegged cowboy
And his knock-kneed lady
The wanted such love
But well – maybe –
They’ll find it a chore.
They find it to so strained,
Yet, for their loving
Neither Complained.

The bed was no good.
The table all right.
So that’s where they spent
Their first lovin’ night.

Getting together
Though it was a chore
Is somethin’ they’re doin’
Now more an’ more.

But then with love
The question it begs;
How love finds a way
Through a mismatch of legs.

A bowlegged cowboy
And his knock-kneed lady
Enjoyin’ such love
And though – maybe –
They find it a chore,
They find it a strain,
Yet, for this loving
Neither Complain.

© Trevor Morgan, 2004

From: “Lyrics for Candy Blue”

Paying the bills

Strange we talk about the post war years.
New names are added every year of our young who have died in conflicts.
Every year since the 40s our people have died.
New names are added every year now to our national memorial and Alrewas.
As a veteran I feel the hurt.

DefaultCemetery

Paying the bills

Death has long been drip-fed
Through all the “post-war” years
And one by one the dead
Cause some to shed sad tears.

There were few grand campaigns,
Just lots of little wars.
Yet still there are the pains
We feel beneath our scars.

Was any of the cost
Of every fight and raid
For those who are now lost;
Worth that great price they paid?

The book is open still
For more to pay that bill.

© Trevor Morgan 2018