IRONIC RESCUE by Pete Brammer

Pete’s piece triggered by ‘irony/ironic’


Down Carby Wood, in a rickety old shed,
Lived a hermit type tramp, by name of Ned,
“Don’t let your kids, go anywhere near”,
Parents would advise, instilling fear.

Stories tell of horrific events,
Time with the devil, he’d often sent,
Pointed horns, growing from his head,
As night draws in, he meets the dead.

Some say that he, himself had died,
Before eviction from the other side,
Too evil whilst in Heaven, they tell,
That sent him, on his way to Hell.

Things changed, as nature did its worst,
When the dam above, the village burst,
Its school was soon engulfed in mud,
Carried by, the terrible flood.

But then a crying girl was seen,
A little child in early teens,
High upon a telegraph pole,
Terrified, the poor little soul.

Emergency services had arrived on scene,
So deadly quiet, not a cry or scream.
Just the sound of that rushing tide,
Carrying bodies that, had sadly died.

Suddenly a figure, on a door, appeared,
Riding the flood, as onlookers cheered,
A voice cried out, “It’s Hermit Sam,
Oh my God, what’s his plan.”

Leaning left, then leaning right,
Clinging on with all his might,
Like on a surf board on the sea,
Negotiating, every tree.

Passing the girl, he grabbed her arm,
From the people watching, cries of alarm,
But soon those cries, turned into cheers,
As one or two, were shedding tears.

From out of all that terrible woe,
It seems they had, a new hero,
Quite ironic, you might say,
For he was a villain, just yesterday.



The Good-Morrow by Angela O’Connor

The Good-Morrow

Wonder not, for you have found the truth
Our discoveries taste and smell divine
Sucked dry from your voracious mouth
I ache to drink more of your vigorous wine
The malodour of prior sweet simple love
Repugnant in the air.

Entwined where everything here is brighter there
Our pupils dilate with unnatural delight.
We have arrived in Faery Land.
Handcuffed to the Flame Lady, I take your hand.

Freedom by Michael Healy

Michael’s response to the trigger

Freedom is a precious favour which most people assume is their right
But many have found their lives are restricted and so have to fight
Two examples were slavery and the African Apartheid system
Both were defeated by strong men campaigning against them.

Born on 24th August 1759 and died on 29th July 1833,
William Wilberforce was a leading politician and MP
He led the campaign for the abolition of slavery
Throughout Britain and the lands of the British Empire.

He campaigned most of his life against the evil that was slavery,
And as a Member of Parliament he could influence the laws
So when the Slave Trade Act of 1807 was passed
He had achieved much of his life’s aim.

In 1826 he resigned from Parliament because of failing health
But he still continued to campaign and eventually Parliament
Passed the Slavery Abolition Act 1833. He died just three days later
After the passage of this bill into law.

Nelson Mandela was another campaigner for freedom
Born in South Africa on 18th July 1918, he campaigned for
Freedom for the Black South African from Apartheid
The system of preference for White South Africans.

He trained as a lawyer and graduated from Hare and Witwatersrand Universities,
before Practicing in Johannesburg. Here he developed his political interests.
These led to bitter disagreement with the Government.
In 1962 he was arrested and charged with attempting to overthrow the state.
He was sentenced to life imprisonment and served 27 years.

With growing unrest among the black South Africans, he was released in 1990
From there he was elected to be President and set about rationalizing black and white.
This he achieved and his country is now fit for both black and whites.
With Freedom for both ethnic groups.

Metally by Michael Keeble

Michael’s response to the trigger ‘Irony’

Metally by Michael Keeble

If it’s hard and it goes rusty and it came from out the ground,
And its ore is kind of reddy in the earth from where it’s found,
When you add it to some coally stuff and suddenly it’s steel,
And in metal terms it’s softy but it’s hard to touch and feel,
Then it seems to be most likely or at least it does to me,
Describing it most fully is to call it irony.

Jenna and the Challenge by Michael Healy

A third installment of Michael’s story for all grandchildren everywhere
Jenna and the Challenge
Jenna the elephant was off to town to take the Royal Family
His howdah was fitted with a cover to stop the rain
And the young family members climbed up and sat down.
Clearly the rain was a nuisance to all.
Jenna was unhappy as his normal carer, Majub, was not here
Instead he had sent his son Tariq to take care.
The Head of the Royals was not coming
So they set off down the road to town.
They had not gone far when this big American car forced its way past Jenna
Jenna saw the passenger was the Head of the Royals, but worse:
The driver was Majub!
How could he let Jenna down so.
Off shot the car, spraying Jenna and all on board with mud
Grrrrr, thought Jenna. What did the future hold for him now?
A nice dry and warm car stood there just waiting to go.
No draughty saddle to mount in sun or snow.
Eventually they reached town and Jenna saw the car
Parked just where he would stand to wait the return of his passengers.
Tariq led him in front of the car to wait the return and gave him a bucket of water.
Jenna could not help but look at this fancy car, with all its shiny chrome.
He felt quite tired, with the heavy saddle and the walk he had just done.
He decided he needed to sit down, so he sat down – right on top of this new cars bonnet.
Crunch, crash, smash! Oh dear, what a mess he had made of the shiny new car.
He got up and shuffled forward to look all innocent. But Majub was there.
‘Jenna, what have you done’, said Majub. ‘This will take weeks to repair’
‘Oh good’, thought Jenna. ‘ That will teach them not to use a car’.



What have they done with fun?
Where has all the fun gone?
Has it all been outsourced to Canton?
Is it in the library at the Sorbonne?
Does anyone know what they’ve done?

What have they done with fun?
There used to be so much more of it
Every village would have at least one eejit
A clown or a flibbertigibbet
Now I swear you can’t even find one

What have they done with fun?
Have they sold it all off to the toffs?
Who’ll waste it watching plays by Chekov?
And listening to Rachmaninov
Is that where all the fun’s gone?

What have they done with fun?
We used to have fun playing games
On see-saws and climbing frames
And calling other people names
We were free to shout and laugh and run

What have they done with the fun?
Why is everything so serious?
Now you cannot be spontaneous
Everything is unhealthy or dangerous
They have put an embargo on fun

What have they done with fun?
Has it been killed by health and safety rules
Banning skipping and conkers at schools
Telling us snowballing’s only for fools
And it’s dangerous to play in the sun

Culture by Joe Lyons

Joe Lyons – one of our ‘virtual members’ – offers this response to our trigger ‘culture’

Culture by Joe Lyons

The cultured pearls around her neck had an iridescent gleam
The smile of pride upon her lips as she took in the scene
When the people who had gathered had the chance to take note
It was all she could do to suppress the thought, not to gloat

This, the main difference between the classes present
Sometimes it is the showing and just being pleasant
With the nature of the classes all you need is self-control
And to remember as in life you are always playing a role


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