( Editorial note: after a period working outside UK many teachers return home and work in schools that pay them poorly. Some feel trapped, the feeling expressed by the second poem. The first poem expresses a sort of tiredness about “abroadness”)
The familiar
By Paul Bress, UK
Hmmm….
Now let me see
Which do I prefer?
Saffron robed monks on a beach at sunrise
The tinkling of temple bells
The pungent aroma of night markets
The seductive tang of pat tai
A full body massage
Or Whitstable High Street
The shrieking of seagulls
The salty stench of the Thames estuary
Farmhouse cheddar on granary toast
The touch of my lover's hand
Give me the second any time
Give me the familiar
Ass
By Paul Bress
Just when exactly did you decide
To devote your life
To pulling tourists around your home town?
Don't you realise the bad deal you've got?
You get tethered,
Trussed,
Thwacked,
And all you get in return is
Food, water, sleep,
And just enough shags
To make more asses.
Don't you think the time is right
To organise a pressure group,
Get a petition signed,
And lobby your MP?
Don't you think it's time
You got a life?
You silly ass