Poems
by Tony
Dawson
Fate
In nineteen-ninety, in early spring,
Fiona Maidenhead wed Arthur King.
Her virginal surname was naturally lost,
and her virginity, at no extra cost.
When Fiona was born, her mother decided
to name her for Ursula, in whom she’d confided
when she was at school. And her father proposed
calling her Carole, which would be unopposed
because his wife was a keen Carole King fan.
It seemed preordained that a brilliant young man,
Arthur King, who’d been wooing their daughter,
should end up beside her in front of the altar.
Arthur always regarded his wife as the best,
while everyone thought Fiona was blessed.
Her husband, proud of her educational success,
was thrilled at the way she never ceased to impress.
Fiona was made Head of a new Quaker school,
but Fate, it turned out, was remarkably cruel.
She was told by the Friends and other officials
that her nameplate only had room for initials…
Hermaphrodite
When you’re monoecious,
who needs a dating app?
Certainly not the silver birch,
Betula pendula or even
Betula pubescens, the downy birch.
How convenient to be hermaphrodite.
Under the current regime in the USA
an Executive Order would be signed
banning their planting on the grounds
that all genders are binary, either male
or female. Being both is not allowed
and anything in between is anathema.
Betula pubescens would surely appeal
to Epstein’s old friends because they bloom
between the ages of five and ten years old.
Donald would feel positively manly
in the shade of Betula pendula:
its catkins droop and only measure
an insignificant three centimeters.
Even less than a mushroom...
The Golfer of America
In golf, as in jazz
“it don’t mean a thing
if it ain’t got that swing”
and poor Donny Trump
is to golf what Florence
Foster Jenkins was to opera.
Just as she couldn’t
sing a note, he can’t
hit a ball straight.
Moreover, golf is known
as a gentleman’s game
which puts Donny Trump
at an obvious disadvantage.
His innate golf handicap
is his inability to play
by the rules because
rules are for losers.
Donny won’t admit
to losing. He wins
by hook or by crook
and preferably the latter.
His scorecards tend
to be works of fiction
based on his cheating
as recorded in
the bestseller
“Commander in Cheat.”
Donnie the Autarch
They call me the Great Pretender,
and even the Great Rule Bender,
as well as the Great Law Breaker,
not to mention the Great News Faker.
Another of my roles is a Mafia boss,
who, quite frankly, does not give a toss,
but I’m really a wannabe Dictator.
I don’t model myself just on Putin,
or Kim Jong Un or Xi Ping.
My special heroes also take in
Fascist dictators like Mussolini,
Franco, Hitler, and Stalin,
for they knew so much about
keeping all kinds of imports out.
Their system, I’m told, was autarky.
I like that it rhymes with oligarchy.
Now my new, big, beautiful idea
nearly drowning in my logorrhoea
is the home-baked Apple pie.
That’s gonna be one in the eye
for Tim who I’ve fired as the Cook
unless he puffs up my pocketbook.
I’ll glaze it with a 25% tariff
just to rub in who’s the sheriff.
Meanwhile, because I’m a prick,
It’ll sell like a cup of cold sick.
A word to the wise…
or in this case the chump.
The Orange Oaf, Donald J Trump,
a President with mental deficiency
must be told that the self-sufficiency
of an economy is a pipe dream
that’s vanished like a cloud of steam
in whichever country it’s been tried.
All such economies ended up fried:
Each dictator caused a recession,
that was followed by a depression.
So, their failed attempts at autarky
and other kinds of malarkey
led to economic underdevelopment,
in other words what that meant
was that with trade barriers in place
it was impossible to keep pace
with countries that continued to trade
with others. Those behind a blockade,
while the local dictator held sway,
became poorer with each passing day.
It’s fair to say, as a rule of thumb,
to inflict this on America is dumb.
