May Day, May Day, M’Aidez
It’s the May day holiday
Time for play and get away
Blue sky pollen high
Swallows twitter as they fly
Time to sit in warming sun
Summer rituals begun
Birds are everywhere in song
From morning light to evenings long
May Day May Day
Hear the calls from far away
Desperate cries from refugees
Sinking, drowning on the seas
Stranded on some foreign beach
A search for safety they can’t reach
How many lives are swept away
We do not know we cannot say
And May Day multiplied by three
Is where our world appears to be
In state of grave emergency
Above, below and out at sea
A threat to all lives on this earth
When will we know the healing worth
Of offered aid before a fall
I can but hope we’ll heed the call
Regular readers might remember that poem from May 2023; an ode that is, distressingly, still relevant to the world situation.
Having read through all my 68 posts, written since 2021, I have come to the conclusion that any further posts on this blog would only repeat past opinions of mine; and that repetition of poetry and opinion is becoming an all too regular feature of Forward To The Past. Hence the title of this post, and my decision to make Post 70 the last. Just because I’d like to end on a nice round number!
Also circumstances regarding the health of my nearest and dearest have focussed my attention away from distressing world events; to concentrate on the personal and more immediate needs of my closest family.
I cannot get exorcised by global disasters, be they political, climatic or even climactic! My concentration is honed in to increasingly local, to existential, and purely personal. Inevitably the garden provides that immediate reality, as Spring bursts forth in all it’s floral glory. As planting seed and mowing the lawn becomes more essential than worrying what’s happening with Trump, or Putin, or any of the human made crises that are forever in the news. My spirit lifts as the blackbird and the thrush sing at dawn and dusk; as goldfinches tear at dandelion heads; as sparrows chatter companionably in the hedge.
And so I’ll finish this post with one of my favourite poems that I am reminded of at this time of year; which renews my faith and optimism in nature’s ability to sort everything out!
GARDEN BIRDS MARCH 2022
After gales and lashing rain
Our garden soaks in weak Spring sun
And birds return to sing again
The mating rituals begun
Two mistles flutter in the elms
Their chirring calls clearly resound
And we hear the song thrush call
From early dawn to late dusk’s fall
The jays foray and scare away
The smaller birds from far around
They fill the air with rasping squawks
And swagger through the garden walks
There’s squabbling in the hedges
Those noisy sparrow spivs
Chirping under roof eaves
Where the family lives
Blue and great tits lustfully chase
Among the bramble tangles
The blackbirds swoop
To scold each other
Through thickening garden cover
The modest dunnock and the darting wren
Move through the grassy bank
Searching rockery and under shrubs
Gorging on unseeable grubs
Jackdaws stalk below the feeders
Strutting and searching the beds
Clearing up any wasted seed
That falls from above their heads
The portly pigeons can be seen
Feeding on the brassica green
And balancing on the ivy hedge
Crashing about on their leafy ledge
High in the sky the predators wait
Sparrow and goshawk, a lone red kite
And, rarely now, the silent owl
Hunts for prey in the gathering night
Very sad to hear that FTTP is coming to an end. It’s always an enjoyable and thought-provoking read.
Maybe if the inspiration takes hold at some point in the future, it’ll enjoy a rebirth!
Thank you for all the wonderful poems and commentary ❤️
It is always moving to read your poetry – thank you.
Lovely poems Jackie and I’m sad your stopping the posts. They’re always enjoyable. Lots of love and best wishes to you both. I hope the warmer weather will improve all round health 🥰
So sad circumstances are stopping you continuing your posts, we really enjoyed reading them and loved your poems.
Love to you both