Texas shooting – a poem

You’re in a firestorm. Heart pummelled, battered. Wrung, shattered.
Child, grandchild, loved one, lamb. From your life ‘untimely ripped’.
Her bubbling laugh is silenced. Her innocent eyes are shuttered.
She’ll not now see the summer fields of promise.
While suited men with stony looks, sign and seal the status quo.
And feign condolence, sit on hands, and cling to power with wolfish bent.
The night is long, the way is hard – yet promise rests
Of wrapped up hearts, and dried up tears, the splintered vase restored.
While hearts of stone will yet be shattered. Beaten, broken, brought to book.

Putin’s fluffy cat (a poem)

Whatever could have happened, to Putin’s fluffy cat?
You know the kind, that in a Bond film villain’s lap is sat
That’s white and slightly sinister, which you’d imagine that
If re-embodied human, would wear a posh cravat.

Did it find while lolling there, hand running through its fur
That with the plans of Vladimir, it could no way concur
Did it feel, on white cats everywhere they’d be a slur
Which could some consequences, far from cat-friendly, incur?

In its ice-cool moggy heart, and in its brain feline
Did it sense this Kremlin kid was badly out of line
For a nicer Bond-ish villain did our friend now pine
In point of fact, did Putin’s fluffy cat just flat resign?