Dandelions

I sat and watched you in the garden
This morning
Your lips like fairy kisses
Blowing those dandelion seeds
Like scattered, forgotten dreams
Some victories, some near misses
Your little face like peach fuzz
Your glistening cherry pout
Poised to whisper those innocent wishes
Within and without
A wish for a promise
And I always promised you
Love

Boy, we have had our battles
Time when Fortune thought
She’d overdose us
For the adrenaline thrill
Maybe a lifetime sentence
With a mother like me
Was overkill
But hey
It’s character building
Watching mummy meltdown
Maybe pop a pill
Or plot ourselves in a movie

Maybe your wishes will be
Bigger than us
Maybe you’ll skip the mental bullshit
Get your ride in a limousine
Rather than catching the crazy bus
Maybe you’ll dare to dream
Where demons fear to live
For son you deserve the light
You put up with some shit
And I don’t know
If you’ll make it big
But I know
My love for you
Will always be
Bigger

© 2020 Sarah Drury

Cyberbully

Last week my son was accused of cyberbullying because he fought back against a boy who had been mean to him for a few weeks, calling him a dumbass and stupid. My son retaliated for a change and it got him into trouble! It prompted me to write this little poem…

Cyberbully

I see you, schoolboy
Hiding behind your fancy computer
Loitering behind your flashy keyboard
Waiting for your victim to come online again
Waiting for that kill, to inflict your vicious pain
I see you, schoolboy
I see your game.

I see you, schoolboy
Hiding behind that tough façade
Fists raised like a literary sword
Gathering up your bully boy herds
And your nasty flock of bully birds
Bruises, punches but in menacing words
I see you, schoolboy
I see your ways, the wicked, the absurd.

I see you, schoolboy
You go for the jugular, you go for the kill
With your don’t give a shit attitude
With your superior airs, with your steel nerved will
Putting your victim through a suicide mill
Sending them crazy, throwing them downhill
I see you, schoolboy
I see how you feel the thrill.

I see you, schoolboy
Why are you so intimidating all the time?
Why do you get your cheap thrills online?
Don’t you care about the person
at the other end of your heartless line?
Don’t you even give a shit, are your emotions benign?
I see you, schoolboy, your victim’s hopeless, but you’re doing just fine.

©2020 Sarah Drury

We Didn’t Care

Runny nose
Scabby knees
Skimming pebbles
Climbing trees
Dirty plasters
Nits in hair
Grimy hands
We didn’t care.

Cast off clothing
Socks as gloves
Bin bag sledges
Dens above
Staying out
Til sun had gone
Love me not
Am I the one?
Sindy dolls
With butchered hair
Times were hard
We didn’t care.

Slides stand tall
On hard concrete
Stand on swings
Jump off the seat
Health and safety
Load of rubbish
Heads cracked open
Children vanish
Want a sweetie
See my pups
Stay away
From weird grownups
Sunday school
Say a prayer
White or black
We didn’t care.

Cars no seatbelts
Smoke in pubs
Dicing death
Work men’s clubs
Cigarettes
Were everywhere
Juicy blackjacks
Penny a pair
Milk on doorsteps
Kiss or dare
Not a dime
We didn’t care.

No computers
No ipads
No iphones
Grumpy dads
Mums in aprons
Apple pie
Cute pet hamsters
Always die
Old gas fires
Huddle round
Kettle makes
A whistling sound
Nowt for breakfast
Cupboards bare
But we were happy
We didn’t care.

©2019 Sarah Drury

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas 2019

‘Twas the night before Christmas
And all round the house
The children were freezing
The gas had run out
They’re huddled in blankets
And second hand coats
With bad chest infections
And painful, sore throats.
There is no electric
They’ve run out of money
They’re scared and they’re frightened
They’re crying for mummy.
But mummy is down
to her last tearful nerve
Universal credit’s been
A steep learning curve.
And the children are hungry
And the cupboards are bare
They’re living off foodbanks
A bloody nightmare.
And it’s Christmas tomorrow
And what will they do?
They’re living off tatties
And vegetable stew.
No turkey bedecking
their rickety table
a fine Christmas dinner’s
a middle class fable.
No fat Christmas pudding
To feast, feast, feast, feast
For that sort of thing
Is a wealthy assed beast.
Santa is taking
a break for the night
for they can’t afford presents
their purse is too tight,
and the children will cry
and their hearts will be broken
they’ll think they’ve been bad
and no words that are spoken
will sooth their sad hearts
will bring back the magic
for poverty is sin
and their little lives tragic.
And benefits are sanctioned
And the poor they go hungry
And the wealthy don’t care
And the tories are angry
And people get poorer
And children get sadder
And the system gets fucked up
The money gets tighter.
The homeless get shit on
The sick are a burden
The mothers are chastised
Their futures uncertain.
How did our poor country
Get in this crap mess?
How did our ‘fine’ leaders
Be heartless, care less?
How did our poor children
Become casualties?
Hungry, tired, sorrowful
Tory fatalities.
‘Twas the night before Christmas
And some lives were shit
We need things to change
Put an end to it.

©2019 Sarah Drury

Britain’s Breadline Kids

Britain’s Breadline Kids

We are breeding the next generation
Of Britain’s breadline kids.
Kids who have nothing but low expectations
Kids who know no, they know low, they know how low life goes
They know they are the empty at the bottom of their piggybank
They know they are the broken Barbie with butchered hair
They know they are the Aldi Rich Tea biscuit, not the McVities Digestive
They know
They know

Breadline kids
Eating from the shelves of the local foodbank
Cupboards as bare as the aisles in the shops of Chernobyl
Fridges only cold for the splash of milk that kisses the coffee
That tempers the mum
That needs the caffeine
That keeps away the deadening grey, the grey that sucks the life out of her day
That keeps that last bit of death away
A coffee and let’s pray.
Let’s pray.

Breadline kids
Huddled in dirty quilts and sleeping in duvets of charity coats
No money for heating, no money for gas, no pennies for leccy
The kids they like Frozen, they dream of the Movie
And they fantasise that life’s an adventure
In the lands of Olaf and Elsa
and that they don’t cry like newborns in the night
when Jack Frost’s tapping at that icy window
and blue is the colour of their cyanosis lips
and not just the politics that put them here.

Breadline kids
Fun is something that always comes free
No x box, no laptop, no new fangled gadgets
Nothing of value exists in their homes bar the value of love
And of family
And that’s running thin
With the stress and the strain and the strife and the pain
And the pain and the pain and the pain.
And what can we give you today Cash Convertors?
Will you perhaps take my soul that’s a huge aching hole
If I sold you my children would I still get parole
You know everything on your shelves
Has paid for empty stomachs and breadline birthdays
And maybe the odd line of coke.
Maybe the odd beer and extravagant smoke.

Breadline Kids
We have no decadent parties here
Don’t flaunt your fancy balloons or your pink tutu skirts
Or your partybags filled with cheap plastic tat
Or your musical statues or pass the parcels
For the only parcels we have here are the foodbank variety
And the only musical statues are our poor, broken bodies
Stiff with the curse of a freezing winter’s morning.
Save your parties for the piss poor politics
And remember that blue is the colour
of impoverished lips, lying Tories and capitalism.

Breadline kids
You have always been here.
With your castoffs and hunger, your bravery and sadness
But in an era when people become millionaires from posting shit on YouTube
And celebrities are liabilities and the famous are talentless
And the government say Universal Credit is a success
As the Prime Minister’s wife sports her Gucci dress
And our politics are fucked like a cancerous abscess
You should be kids
Not casualties.

Kids.

©2019 Sarah Drury