michael thomas hough poetry blog

And does Bobby still love

Janey True?

Carved in the beech tree 

so many years ago.

And does she still love him? 

The tree kept their secret,

there for everyone to see. 

And as it grew, so their love 

grew higher up the tree 

and took its place

amongst the dancing leaves.

The Patient Poet

Mike Hough

The Botanic Garden Quartet

I 

The muffled chatter on the deck

Catches the morning breeze

As it rushes beyond the  pond, 

Below the wooden parapet

As if in haste

But there is no rush today.

II

Reflections ripple in the pool

Disturbing the trees, hungry 

To capture each passing cloud.

He sits in the shade, waving,

Then is gone, as others

Take his place.

III

The Play Group children in bright

Orange waistcoats 

Sit around the benches,

Unaware of how time passes,

Glued to the present moment

Like ripe plums in a wicker basket.

IV

The toddler runs, falls but doesn't cry,

Gathered up by his attentive mum.

The leaves caress down

To offer their assistance,

Then signal to each other

That all is well.

Mike Hough

The Patient Poet.

Last day of June 2026.

On the balcony of the cafe

He announces his shadow cabinet.

Be afraid, be very afraid.

He'll be the next prime minister,

Says the guy in the dentist waiting room.

I'd seen the dentist and hygienist.

Keep brushing, she says.

I'm now in Sonny and Vito's drinking coffee.

Keep brushing, keep brushing.

Later I'll be in Canton Lane with my friends

Celebrating Chinese New Year.

Its come round again; year of the horse.

With my friends, with my friends .

Today the sun is bright and warm.

I am content and carefree.

Tomorrow it will be raining

All day long, all day long.

I do yoga twice a week.

Keeps me supple, yes it does

If I remember to breathe.

Remember to breathe.

I've had two keys cut

To let me in.

Been meaning to do for some time now.

Let me in, let me in.

Sit a little closer , by my side, 

By my side. I like you being around.

Yes I do. Keep brushing.

Imagine being very cold

against a backdrop of rising geopolitical tensions 

Minus 10 or 11

rules-based order is fading

Because drones have cut the power

the system’s power comes not from its truth

No electricity in the middle of winter

we are in the midst of a rupture, not a transition

Candles for light

a world of fortresses will be poorer

Tents for homes

we aim to be both principled and pragmatic.

No running water

progress is often incremental

No radio or tv

Coalition of the Willing

Helpless, hungry

 if we’re not at the table, we’re on the menu

Fearful and frightened

reducing the leverage that enables coercion

Neighbours are strong

we are a stable and reliable partner 

We will survive

honesty about the world as it is

But at what a cost

nostalgia is not a strategy

We can only go forward

the powerful have their power but we have something too: the capacity to stop pretending

"Our customers don't care about attacks  

as long as the post is delivered on time"

says Dimitri Mirushnyk ( not his real name ),

a branch manager of a Nova Poshta  

In a suburb of  xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"we provide something of a peaceful life 

amid the war. "

Yesterday the xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx hit another branch. 

"We have been issued with bulletproof vests and helmets."

Already there are no supermarkets, courts, schools, water, gas, electricity. We are the last to leave.

we keep working.

This month we delivered 

winter tyres

a widescreen tv

  chocolate boxes

    a folding bed

               a car bumper

skincare products

  a bare root tree

    a pram

a vacuum  cleaner

  a camouflage net

they usually arrive the next day.

The border is very close.

 "My mother sent a homemade pie, 

for fear of serious social disorder

Yesterday,

the police banned supporters of

Maccabi Tel Aviv

from attending a football match in Birmingham.

Meanwhile

the Israeli Police ordered their derby fixture to be cancelled.

A disgrace that heaps shame on our country.

Music her first love she had created

a young ensemble to sing door to door,

in happier times, almost tearing with joy 

at the memory. Always a plan A or B, 

now broken by the war. Plans crushed.

She left Ukraine, in a hurtle with her 4 siblings, 

and her mother, bags packed 

and ready but in the chaos lost.  

All they possessed were documents 

for the journey away from the gathering storm.  

The train, slow at first, bolted forward to avoid exploding bombs that chased them. 

The youngest protested "but I am only 8".

Poland, then  the Czech Republic before

Available to download now:

although scholars 

claim

that

suffer is wrongly

translated

"suffer the little

children"  (Mark  10:14.)

today of all times

is likely

My hospital here is fully functioning,

no screaming, no spilling of blood,

no climbing over rubble to reach reception,

no white kite flying above.

In tribute to Dr Refaat Alareer

I am taken to a place

of concrete,

Strip searched and photographed

naked.

Questioned and again.

  Standing cold and wet.

"You can leave if you wish."

I shiver.  My heart is not

broken.

When I write, it must stay

here.

I recall her eyes

of tears.