Poetry to order

Poetry to order:     (is a bit contrived but these two pieces have survived):

Aubade

Isn’t every day just the same?

On my way to work:

People’s eyes look straight ahead

Lost in their own worried lives;

Walking, ignoring all but

The weariness of another early morning.

Routine repeated every day

And it has to be that way.

No escape.

No smile, no brightness in the eye,

Nothing to do but breathe a sigh.

What does each day bring?

Just more of the same everything.

I want so much to change

But life just slaps me down again.

And what do I get?

The weariness of yet another early morning

The sky is blue, the sun is shining..

So what? It’s all the same what another day brings

Amid the drudgery and self-pity dawning

That is the weariness of another early morning.

--------------

Three verses that spell ‘aubade’.

But I cannot continue in that vein.

It is so not me!

Each day is precious and should be treasured.

The sun is shining. Glory be! Yippee!

And my breath comes yet clear.

Perhaps when my mind and body fade

I can continue ‘aubade’

But now...  Right now... I know I might make you queasy...

But good cheer and happiness come so easy.

Gloomy soon goes, lifts away.

Cos I don’t do things that way.

Palinode

You don’t hear talk about flying saucers anymore.

Crop circles have had their day

Disproved as hoax and they've just gone away.

Alien abduction was just loose deduction

Funded by cheap newspaper hacks.

Bigfoot and his abominable friend

They might have been genetically found

But there is nothing left there to astound.

Does anybody contact the dead?

Or do they play ‘world of warcraft’ instead?

------

I once over thirty years ago believed in the Loch Ness monster.

Or was it that I wanted to?

As now... I wrote a poem...

I imagined a walk along the loch shore

And in my poem he saw: ‘a bony, knobbly, yet lordly head’

Raising out of the murky depths...

I wish I could believe now. I really do.

But,.

Well, it seems so childish, so out-of-date, so fanciful;

And I am afraid to say  -  mysteries have had their day.

There are no ghosts, no monsters, no little green men;

Science has killed off the X-files; area 51; tales of the unknown and unexpected;

And we are left with a world that is:

Boring boring boring boring boring boring boring boring boring boring boring...