David Green

David Green (Books) is the imprint under which I publish booklets of my own poems, when there are sufficient of them. Apart from that, the website has become what it is. I hope you find at least some of it worthwhile.

Thursday, 23 March 2017

This Week's TLS Crossword Solution





















And now I feel more smartarse than ever.




Tuesday, 21 March 2017

Portsmouth Acrostic

The offices where I do the day job are being refurbished and a part of that process is a competition for artwork, including photography and poems, from those that attend there to adorn the walls.
I hadn't even noticed that, up to now, there is no such aesthetic feature in the whole building, only the dreariest of corporate messages and information.
Thus I thought I ought to contribute something to this well-intentioned initiative even though I reckon pictures are more suitable than words in the circumstances. Work submitted has to be on prescribed themes or of local interest. I'll be disappointed if my effort is judged not good enough but I'll understand if its themes of existential angst are not considered what they were looking for.



Perhaps it was my fate to be brought here
Or a sequence of chances that lined up,
Returning me back time and time again
To where I was at home as refugee.
So, thirty-five years later, here I am,
Made native by belonging nowhere else,
Otherwise still a stranger to myself
Under the Guildhall clock or by the shore
The gunboats would depart from into mist,
History theirs to make, ours to pass by.

Saturday, 18 March 2017

Question Time




Question Time

One day, when they have sorted it all out,
they’ll sit and chat and offer biscuits round
and wonder why it took so long to reach
this state of perfect equilibrium.
The billionaire magnate will not listen
to protests as he insists on paying
his workforce over and above their needs
plus a Christmas bonus and weekends off.

The union leader who waves it away,
elegantly complacent, with no trace
of rancour or working class accent, says
if there’s ever a need for his members
to do overtime then they’ll gladly come
and do it for nothing because they know
their pensions will provide generously
for their old age. And they both nod and smile.

The fiery feminist lets the lewd old
comedian who’s on as the token
celeb call her ‘love’ without the slightest
rebuke because it no longer matters
now that not even golf clubs recognize
any gender bias, although most women,
it must be said, have better things to do
than golf.  So, what is the next question, please,

yes, over there, the man in the blue shirt.
Which is the best of Mozart’s symphonies?
Then, what’s your favourite flavour of ice-cream?
Which animal would you be if you could?
Should T. Rex, Mud and Abba be set texts?
Would it be better if cartoons were real
and dogs could talk and tell us what they think?
Should Question Time be more like this or not.