Michael Garrad's View and poems

Name’s Jack. Or you can call me Russell. Or Jack Russell. Take your pick. I’ll answer to any kind of call.

Got a bit jack of where I lived. It was ok but could have done with more attention - and the occasional meal when they (whoever they are) remembered.

Soooooo, one day I left home, no collar, no ID. Just took off. Guess it was the aroma of chicken at Woolworths Supermarket in Upper Burnie. Well, why not? Followed my snout and ended up there about 6 am - early anyway!

This kind person said, “Hey, Jack, like me to rustle up something for you?” Well, that sounded like a good idea and I said, “Don’t mind if I do.”

She was a nice person, blonde hair, lovely smile, really kind - and so was he, when he turned up. No, not my owners who I’ve disowned. No, this bloke who said “How are you, Boysie? Boysie, I ask you! I said, ‘Not quite sure how I am or who I am!’”

Anyway, thing is, this young woman and this bloke got me sorted with food and water - delicious chicken and dried bits and pieces. Hadn’t eaten like that in a long while.

“Gawd bless ’em, I said.” What would a dog do without people like that around? Starve - or worse!

Anyhow, ended up at The Pound. Tad rough and ready but it’s liveable. Got manhandled a bit. You get that! Company’s not bad, though.

Love to find my feet one day - my paws, I mean!


Listen Hard

Pink and white blossom rejoices,
Air entices, warm,
Breeze tickles petals,
Teases in the rebirth,
The playground is busy now,
Children in innocent pursuits,
Delightful laughter resonates,
Listen hard, listen hard,
For the clatter goes on!
Wheels, naked on rail, distant,
Always the rude intrusion,
Harsh reminder Notting Hill
Is always hungry,
Red and silver capsules snake, deep,
Gold dazzles high in blue,
London Underground is relentless,
Hot chaos at Marble Arch,
Stillness at Ruislip Gardens.

© Michael Garrad February 2012

Machines

They move,

Hungry for the highway,

Black glass and silver wheels,

Relentless, they chew bitumen,

All around us in the chaos,

Eager to lead, confining,

And to follow, tight,

As one with the flesh,

Consuming with unquenchable thirst;

Will they stop?

Will they ever stop?

Sinister of thought,

Sluggish, cunning, dangerous!

Fuelled and eager, and dangerous!

Human of mind in mindlessness

or has the human long since

surrendered to metal in motion,

To a will of this motion?

© Michael Garrad May 2012