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 Two Brexit related poems

 

The Oak

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In summer the leaves bank up in clouds

leaving his lawn like a goalmouth,

shadowing his plans for alfresco dining.

 

The sun has given up getting through  

so he will have it felled, sweep up

the ankle deep drift of debris once and for all.

 

The patio builders arrive to measure up,

the older one testing the seams of an England shirt,

a country he no longer feels he knows.

 

He watches them from behind his kitchen window

hands on hips in a stance of reprimand.

He hears something said about Polish pay rates.

 

He takes his sullen Labrador for a lazy walk

through the last meadows on his side of the river

before his son slams the door, drops his satchel in the hall.

 

He consoles himself with the memory that

he had asked him which way his father should vote.

He teaches him how to make cheese on toast.

 

He will finish his letter to The Guardian,

email his friend who sits in the Lords

then ring the man with the chainsaw,

ask him if the oak could be used to make the patio.

 

 

Michael Crowley

 

Young and free

 

When I ever feel afraid,

Or unsure of who I am,

I look at my great-grandad's pocket watch.

 

On it, is an inscription of the first two

Lines of the Australian anthem,

And a drawing of the First Fleet.

 

His name was Donald Hugh Mckenzie

And he fought in the battle of Kokoda,

Defending against the invasion of Queensland.

 

I never met him, but I’ve been taking

Care of his pocket watch for years.

 

And even though our times are different,

Our lives far removed,

I feel like this watch is everything I stand for.

 

The second line of the Australian national anthem:

For we are young and free.

 

For we are young and free.

 

Britain, when I landed on your shores,

You were neither young nor free.

 

For too long, your people have been

Bled dry,

Of their money, their identity, and

And their power.

 

My great grandfather was called to arms

To defend his home from invasion,

 

So how can I be afraid,

Of using my small voice to stand up

For you as well.

 

Yes you are an old country.

You are the land of my ancestors.

 

I wouldn’t change your old ways

For the world.

 

Instead, I’ll spend the rest of my

Days here trying to defend them.

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Chloe Westley