N S Ford

Tag: poetry

  • ‘No Such Thing as a Free Donut’ – a poem

    Check me out, I’m living the dream!
    I got free donuts from Krispy Kreme.
    All I had to do was get my vaccination;
    I needed it anyway, to go on vacation.
    Besides, that’s the way things are headed:
    No entry to pubs, clubs, shops, any place,
    Without the ‘passport’ libertarians dreaded,
    ‘Show us your papers’ and cover your face.
    So happy the government have all my data!
    I don’t care for privacy, ethics or choice,
    Enjoy my false freedom, pay for it later;
    To the self-righteous herd, I’ll add my voice.
    Control my life, take my independence away.
    Discriminate against the unvaccinated ‘other’.
    There’s only one more thing I have to say:
    I love free donuts and I love Big Brother.

    I was inspired to write this poem after hearing that Krispy Kreme stores in the US were offering free donuts to people who could prove they’d had a covid vaccination. I thought it was an interesting starting point for a commentary on the ‘vaccine passport’ vs. civil liberties debate. This is not a poem criticising people who eat donuts.

    If you liked my poem, you may wish to check these out: ‘Risk’ and ‘Dystopia 2020’.

  • Let’s go read a book: a poem

    Weather’s bad, the news is bleak,
    It’s been a bloody awful week,
    So fed up you can barely speak…
    Let’s go read a book.

    Every day is Groundhog Day,
    Things are really not okay,
    Wishing you were far away…
    Let’s go read a book.

    The situation is extremely severe,
    Sadness, worry, paranoia, fear,
    Apocolypse is surely here…
    Let’s go read a book.

  • Risk: a poem

    I want to play a game of Buckaroo,

    But the government says it’s a bad thing to do.

    I want to play a game of Cluedo,

    But that’s out of the question (so is Ludo).

    I want to play a game of Twister,

    But I don’t want to be labelled a resister.

    I want to play a game of Monopoly,

    But it wouldn’t accord with guidelines properly.

    I want to play a game of Trivial Pursuit,

    But that idea should get the boot.

    I want to play a game of Pictionary,

    But it’s best to be extremely wary.

    I want to play a game of Risk,

    But the government says it’s too much… risk?

    Now I’ve run out of games to rhyme,

    Best wishes to you this Christmas-time.

    I couldn’t resist writing this in late November after the UK Government’s scientific advisory committee suggested that families should play quizzes instead of board games this Christmas…

  • Dystopia 2020: a poem

     

    We’re living in Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four.

    What is Truth? We can’t be sure.

    Censorship, fake news, watched all the time.

    Newspeak, Big Brother, Room 101, Thoughtcrime.

     

    We’re living in Huxley’s Brave New World.

    In every glass bottle, a foetus is curled.

    Drugs and entertainment to control each clone.

    Denounced for reading and thinking alone.

     

    We’re living in Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale.

    Power reserved for the wealthy white male.

    Segregation and religion are tools of oppression.

    Austerity, piety, hypocrisy, aggression.

     

    We’re living in Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four.

    I don’t know what to believe any more.

  • Cookies: a poem-recipe

    If you’re craving something sweet,

    These vegan cookies are nice to eat.

    Easy, cheap and quick to make,

    They are my favourite thing to bake.

    Get some plain flour (wholemeal is best),

    Put in a bowl (don’t spill it on your vest).

    Add some sugar (white or brown),

    Wear a smile and not a frown.

    Baking soda, essence of vanilla,

    Don’t add a gorilla or Polyfilla.

    A milk of your choosing (oat is mine),

    Sunflower oil and the dough is fine.

    Now it’s time to add what you desire,

    Sultanas, choc chips, bits of a tyre,

    Chopped dates, seeds, a banana skin,

    If you like these things, then chuck them in.

    Mix it all up, squish it together,

    Refrigerate two hours and enjoy the weather.

    Flatten some spoonfuls on to a tray,

    Bake in the oven for a while, then hey!

    You’ve now made cookies, be careful (they’re hot),

    And try not to let anyone else eat the lot.

    **********

    Here’s the actual recipe, which makes about 20:

    Mix together 300g plain flour, 1 tsp baking soda, 160g any sugar (can be reduced if you wish), 4 tbsp any milk, 4 tbsp sunflower oil, 1 tsp vanilla extract and some bits such as dried fruit, nuts, etc. Form the dough into a ball, adding a little milk if it’s too dry to stick together. Put in the fridge for at least 2 hours. Flatten spoonfuls of dough on to a tray and bake in the oven at gas mark 4 for 10 to 15 minutes. Leave them on a wire rack to cool. 

    Tip: don’t mix honeycomb pieces into the dough, as they melt, pooling around the cookies and leaving them with craters.

    If you liked this poem-recipe, you may wish to check out my equally eccentric one for carrot soup.

  • Lockdown: a poem

    Invisible enemy,

    Invading the world,

    Stealing breath,

    Snatching lives.

    Your empire will fall.

    Your soldiers will retreat.

     

    Grieving, hoping,

    Free from fear,

    The world will step outside again,

    Embracing.

     

  • Carrot soup: A poem-recipe

    If you want a healthy dinner,

    This carrot soup should prove a winner.

    Vegan, cheap and gluten-free,

    This easy recipe was invented by me.

    Fill a big pan with water halfway,

    Switch on the heat, you’re doing OK.

    Add a spoonful of veg stock powder,

    Turn up the radio, you want it louder.

    Chop up a clutch of cheapest carrots,

    Keeping an eye out for evil parrots.

    Chop some baking potatoes (medium),

    Trying not to yawn with tedium.

    Throw these vegetables into the pan,

    Then you can just chill out, man.

    Wait for the veg to soften up,

    Turn off the heat, make a storm in a teacup.

    Now is the time to dig out your blender,

    Go on a carrot soup-making bender.

    Once it’s smooth, it would be nice,

    To add a quantity of herb and spice.

    Coriander, ginger, salt, pepper, chilli,

    Don’t add too much though, that would be silly.

    Leave to thicken or serve straight away,

    It’s a decent food for a winter’s day.

    And here’s the recipe in non-poem form:

    Half-fill a large saucepan with tap water. Heat it on the hob. Add a spoonful of powdered vegetable stock. Roughly chop up several carrots and two or three medium potatoes (no need to peel any of them). Cook in the pan until soft. Take off the heat, leave to cool a little, then blend using a handheld stick blender (or if you don’t have one, do batches in a conventional blender). Add some herbs and spices. The soup is best left to thicken for a few hours before re-heating. To make the soup a complete dinner, I usually add some spinach leaves to the pan just before serving, for extra iron content, and for protein chop up some vegan sausages into the bowl.

  • Cold dark mornings: a poem

    I hate to get up in the morning

    when the sun is still in bed.

    I’ll spend the whole day yawning

    with a fuzzy aching head.

    Outside it’s cold and dark and wet,

    not tempting in the slightest.

    I haven’t properly woken up yet,

    my thoughts are not the brightest.

    I could do with a little more sunshine

    to put my mind in gear,

    or else I’ll be shuffling like a zombie

    every morning until Spring next year.

     

  • Procrastination: a poem

    I should be working on my writing

    but Youtube vids are more exciting.

    I must make plot notes in my jotter

    but first I will watch Harry Potter.

    I need to check my grammar and spelling

    but Instagram is more compelling.

    I know the dialogue falls flat

    but it’s time to feed the cat.

    I’ve got to make these characters real

    but painting my nails has more appeal.

    I have to re-write chapter one –

    let’s go and put the kettle on.

  • Hamlet’s Bookish Poem

    To read, or not to read, that is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler for the mind to suffer
The shame and adverts of outrageous TV,
Or to take aim at a computer game army,
And by distraction end the boredom? To die, to read -
No more - and by reading we feel
The heartache and the thousand twisty shocks
That books are made of: 'tis an experience
Devoutly to be wished. To read, to sleep:
To sleep, perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,
For in that post-novel daze what dreams may come
When we have turned the last page
Must give us pause: there's the text
That gives us different perspectives on life.
Battles lost and won, pride and community,
The pangs of unrequited love, the urban fantasy,
The psychological thriller and the horror
That keeps you awake all night
When a sensible person should be quiet
In mind and body? Who would chapters bear,
To laugh and cry by an author's skill,
But that the dread of having nothing to read,
At home or work or school but especially
When travelling, makes us anxious,
And makes us rather bear the worst novels
Than do other activities we'd rather avoid?
Thus books have power over us all:
And thus the things we should be doing
Get cast aside by bookish thoughts
And enterprises such as housework and socialising
With this regard are kept away
Because our lives are quests for fiction.

    By William Shakespeare and N S Ford.

    If you’re really keen, you can look up Hamlet’s original soliloquy (Act 3 Scene 1). Which version do you prefer?!