Migel Jayasinghe

Poets are famously poor
It's believed they starve in garrets
Any wonder that their demeanour
Puts everyone off - they are dour!
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I did not think I'll ever set
my eyes on a sight like Guadalest;

It is the most celebrated in Spain
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However much you may have roamed the world
You could never forget your native land
Like so many sheep steered back to the fold
Your thoughts return to where you played in the sand.
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A granite statuette of Nefertiti
Bought at Abu Simbel on the Nile cruise
Serves us as a solid paperweight
On windy mornings reading books outside.
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Lethal consequences of the suicide bomber's craft
Are foiled by the vigilance of smart X-ray eyes,
With nations adopting a proactive raft
Of measures to combat these dastardly lice.
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Unproven belief in an Almighty God
Jehovah, Allah, from the Middle East
Provided Mankind with a timely code
Of moral principles in a paradigm neat.
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Barefoot children
playing in the sand.
Dig your heel in, then
rotate your foot,
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Compelled to earn a living during my youth
By hard physical labour was not such a bad thing;
When promoted to pen-pushing in early middle-age
Acquired a spare tyre, most unprepossessing!
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