2018 10 – Poems


  • How did the Labour Party
  •   get itself into this mess,
  • asks the BBC presenter?
  •   Have a guess:
  • The State’s dark forces,
  •   its mentor?
  • We’re all anti-Semitic now,
  •   except the plotters
  • who started this row?

WJ Haire.  5th September, 2018



  • Maybe you oldsters remember
  •   the old butchers shop,
  • the cow’s carcass on a hook
  •   before the dismember.
  • The naked bunnies on a slab,
  •   the sheep sans woolly coat,
  • the disembowelled pig without a grunt,
  •   razor-sharp knives, the butcher white-clad.
  • Congealed blood- soaked sawdust in our stare,
  •   a sense of war among the cadavers,
  • though we weren’t witnesses to this violence,
  •   moos, squeals, bleats, I didn’t hear, can I care.
  • So to Whitehall, the Cenotaph, again this year.
  •   all supermarket and with the same cadavers
  • but not in animal form because of the cling-film.
  •   The freezing of emotions, an icy tear.

WJ Haire.  25th September, 2018.



  • Remember when I beat you up
  •   100 years ago?
  • Don’t blame me,
  •   your shop was doing better than mine.
  • The next minute you’d be moving into my house
  •   with Krupp.
  • Turning on me like that made you a Hun,
  •   only for my cousin across the Atlantic
  • you might have won.
  •   So I still think I was right.
  • With our one million dead how could
  •   I say I was wrong in that fight.
  • But despite all of this
  •   I’m inviting you to the Cenotaph.
  • It’s not remorse,
  •   I’m still remembering how I beat you up.
  • Any other explanation would be daft.

WJ Haire.  25th September, 2018