1362

Why should we trust you when you don't respond?

The widows cry, the orphans starve, the young

Ignored, un-nurtured, the gullible conned,

The weak ripped off, the caring still unsung,

While rich men tyrannise, the strong oppress,

Money counts for everything and cash

Can buy the world, paid in excess

To bribe, corrupt, grind down, abuse and smash.

And where are you in all this pain and greed?

Don't point me to the Psalms with all their Kant,

Just show me where you've met your people's need,

Where promises are kept as they are meant.

I know you suffered but the world still groans

And prophesy does not mend broken bones.

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 30.7.25

 1361

The blood test

Was okay.

One day

Soon

It won't be.

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick  July 2014

 1359

Men!

Why do men always talk as if they know?

Ok, I am as guilty as the rest

But listening is terrifying when

A man sets forth ideas, which, at best,

Are cobbled from dubious web-site or,

Worse still, procured from Twitter or Facebook,

Then pontificated as the Truth,

Regardless of his partner's dubious look.

Why do we do it? Why do we go on

As if we know it all, when truth to tell,

We've not a clue and this is just hot air

To justify ourselves while our head's swell?

You know the truth, and smile behind your hand,

At all men who think they understand.

Brian Hick July 2013

©copyright Sally Hick 25.7.25

 1300

For Lucie

This is just for you;

'What's money for, anyway?

As Dad used to say.

Brian Hick July 2013

©copyright Sally Hick 24.7.25

 1297

               Bodiam Butts

I loosed six arrows, for three pounds,

At Bodiam this summer's afternoon.

Two reasonable shots just hit the mark

The others would not have impressed the King

Six hundred years ago, when William fought

At Agincourt for Henry, and survived

The dysentery, French horses and mud.

This is a game for tourists, but in France

A kingdom hung upon that arrow's flight

More than heroic speeches or the calm

Of chroniclers at fifty years remove.

So I am pleased my arrows made their mark

And something of those ancient Yorkshire genes

Are, maybe, more than just romantic dreams.

Deo Gracias; William Hick - 1415 survivor of Agincourt

Brian Hick July 2013

©copyright Sally Hick 23.7.25

 1296

Love conquers all; well that's what they say,

Though looking round it doesn't quite ring true

With violence and aggression holding sway.

Love conquers all?

But when we are together - me and you -

It seems there is another game in play

Where winning has no part and though a few

Boulders have been strewn along the Way

This love, of fifty years, is ever new,

Unconditional as each dawning day.

Love conquers all.

Brian Hick July 2013

©copyright Sally Hick 21.7.25

 1295

St. Leonards, July night 2013

Hannah wanted to paddle,

So we did,

Leaving our shoes and socks

Dry on the pebble bank.

A haze of apricot from the late sun

Softened the silhouette of Beachy Head,

Where tiny dots of light

Pricked out the line

Between tidal forces and the shore.

The moon,

Unnoticed earlier,

Had crept into a sudden blaze of light

Reflected on the stillness of the sea,

Until it fractured

In the turning waves

To broken diamonds in the evening's blue.

Even Hannah's chatter

Calmed,

As we stood,

While shingle oozed between our toes

And twilight's calm

Ravished all our woes.

Brian Hick July 2013

©copyright Sally Hick July 2025

Hannah is our granddaughter, then aged 13