A poem that first came to me seeing the beefed up patrols in the Channel, and echoes I heard from that in the media.
Gun metal grey
The border patrol sit
In a fortified lifeboat
Hunting for prey
The scout for the wolf pack
Which sit back
Eager for the substance
To fuel their next attack
The scavengers sit by
Waiting for scraps
That from feasting and fighting
Are oft to fly
The stench burns the nose
As all to easily
These insecure carnivores use it
And fears seeds it sows
Fear is a plague
An invasive species
A poisonous weed
Against sanity and treaties
Antidotes only work
If they are taken
Situations only improve
If the right words are spoken
So, fear's spell is unbroken
As in the shadow of it's dark bloom
The wolve's gestures are token
And violent polarities shatter delicate realities
But life in the wolf pack is bloody
And loyalties often quite muddy
We can only pray
That reason has the biggest roar
And as it drives the wolves
To the floor
The scavengers will get the grand feast
They've been waiting for
Dave James Horn ©
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About Dave James Horn
Based in Folkestone, Dave James Horn writes poetry to raise a smile and provoke a thought. He is part of Poet’s Corner Folkestone and an organiser of the Folkestone Language Exchange. Read his full bio here.