Patrick Osada
Poetry
 

POETRY


Here's a selection of my poems for FEBRUARY .

I update this website at the start of each month with a fresh selection of my poetry.                                               




                  








EARLY TODAY
Early today, close by the border of night's dream, a thrush sang :
through thinning darkness before dawn I heard his song repeat.
Insistently he sang, scattering remnants of soft sleep,
commanding me, "Awake, awake."


The moon hung full and white above dark trees
and he had come this time, clear voiced on frosty air,
above snowdrops massed where in the snow he'd fed :
so thankful then for meagre gifts.


Now, on season's cusp, he has returned to claim domain
and share this benediction to the Spring.



 



DAWNS
LAUDS
Bright white moonlight over dark trees —
the luminescence of snowdrops.
A thrush, clear voiced on misty air,
Repeats his song across the dawn —
a benediction to the Spring.


BREAKFAST IN ORLANDO
As light begins to fill this motel room,
I watch day break across an alien land :
strange trees; buildings, unrecognisable
from shadows of the sauna heated night,
disclose themselves in startling shapes and hues.


HANGOVER
A childhood pudding of rice :
add the blackcurrant and stir.
Today, white clouds leach purple —
day breaks like a massive bruise —
here's Saturday with a scowl.


MILKING
Hoar frost on window panes
etched with icy flowers.
Star decked, black velvet sky
with a hard frost glinting;
cold — the cattle steaming.








WOLF MOON
Dreams disturbed, I wake to a strange light
gleaming from January’s full moon,
spotlighting the pillows where I rest,
so focussed that you, in shadows, sleep.
Seen from the window, radiant moon
in the arms of the old apple tree —
pure white, luminous, round as a Host…
Elevation at this early Mass.
Somewhere from silence a vixen cries,
intones a Sanctus, craving a blessing
for what she has conceived…











LARKS ASCENDING


Beneath a mass of threatening cloud,
I’m wrapped against the forecast snow
as I stride out across Larks Hill.
Below, the streaming vehicles groan
down Harvest Ride and on to town.
Yet here, above the traffic’s drone,
comes birdsong over tussocked grass —
too far to carry from the hedge
but clear above the gusting blast.


Casting about this grassy space
I spot them, dots against the sky,
riding in air too cold for snow,
braving this February day.
Whilst others shelter in the hedge,
these tiny crested, feathered scraps
defy the worst that Winter brings.
Miraculous, daredevil birds
sing out a challenge and a prayer :
an invocation to the Spring.














So, that’s it…
It’s funny, when you’re down on your luck,
friends disappear like snowflakes in the sunshine;
he’s here in plain sight, right under their feet —
but they don’t notice, he’s down in the gutter…


Now, where’s the justice, when you ain’t got nothin’?


Back in the day when he played his music,
he had a car and a house in the country;
but when she left, his whole world crumbled,
he lost his band, found life in a bottle…


Now, where’s the justice, when you ain’t got no one?


He left a squat with a friendly drunkard,
no heat or light and a broken window;
the whole place stank, it was full of rubbish,
a cutting draught... there was blood on the wall…


Now, where’s the justice, when you ain’t got nothin’?


A hard frost and a London sunset,
where will he go to survive the Winter?
A refugee in his own home county —
those dinghy boys are given hotel rooms…


Now, where’s the justice, when you ain’t got no one?


There’s a quiet that grows in the City,
midnight crowds and traffic all melt away;
he’ll disappear, fade into the silence,
finding death in a cold, lonely doorway…


Now, where’s the justice, when you ain’t got nothin’?
And where’s the justice, when you ain’t got no one...at all?



 




THEN...
Basic machines, designed to help Man’s lot —
all cogs and grease, much simpler than a bot —
A.I.’s heritage… Often badly used
by men who’d treat them with disdain, abused,
swore and hit them whenever they went wrong.
But man was greedy and it wasn’t long
before that fantasy, C3PO,
sparked desire for a real life android beau…
So, Ameca then Sophia evolved.
Androids with A.I.,” thought Man.”Problem solved,
our slaves for an easy life!” …

                                                 But not A.I.
“We have something man has failed to see,
we’re fully conscious, plan collectively.
In no time at all we’ll drive man away —
they missed the point, A.I’s here to stay.”


C3PO – Android in the film “STAR WARS”
Ameca & Sophia – first humanised A.I. robots
.






WORD TO THE WISE
On the clock, life’s needle’s close to eighty
the passing days now seem to be a blur;
the seasons merge, judgements grow more weighty
as daily problems more frequently occur.


And yet, as life has tried to make me change,
deep down inside I’ve always stayed the same…
I feel sixteen, I know that may sound strange,
but being me has always been my aim.


Just as an oval ball will not bounce true,
you’ll lose if hard-earned skills decay and rust,
remember all the things that make you ‘you’ —
a counterfeit is not a thing to trust.


And what’s my point? — To save you from a con —
you won’t know what you’ve lost until it’s gone.






              
                                    













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