My New Telescope Poem by S.A. Blair

I sit here master of all I survey,
In my old leather chair with my new telescope.
Gleaming in the sun it is a beacon of my life. On stilts.
From here on the third floor, I can read the names of the boats.

The Shipping Forecast tells me it’s becoming good.
I can see that. I can see the clouds in Dogger!
My telescope stands tall and proud on a tripod.
It’s mahogany I think, but when we did those things in school, I didn’t bother.

I got my first telescope when I was eight.
It was a hand-held one, black and shiny silver. I loved it.
My dad and I chose it together; they always filled me with wonder
And thoughts of Long-John Silver, but then the inside fell out. I broke it.

I sit here with my new telescope and Treasure Island is in front of me.
Really, it is! According to the locals anyway. But what do they know I suppose.
White sails dart about like handkerchiefs in the pockets of bustling business men.
I spot one and the bearded helmsman has daft glasses on the bridge of his nose.

No, I’m not looking at your smalls Mrs McGurk!
I have no interest in you or any of your kind.
I sit here with my new telescope, cosy, as The Nautilus goes by.
I won’t unscrew the lens on this one. Not this time.

(c) S.A. Blair 2008