‘The Author’ and Other Poetry by Rod Walford

The Author

He portrays a lonely figure
In his cottage by the sea
With his pencil and his paper and his dog.
Gone his youthful verve and vigour
But remaining in its lee
Is the gift that soon will form his epilogue.

With the ocean panorama
Bathed in twilight’s amber glow,
He reflects upon his cherished thoughts and dreams.
Playing out a lifetime’s drama.
As his passions ebb and flow,
High above, a solitary seagull screams.

Though his clothes may hang in tatters
And his hair be long and grey
Yet his eyes still sparkle brightly as he writes.
For in literary matters
He is half a world away
And upon his works will thousands set their sights.

They will never know the sorrow,
They will never know the pain
That has forged the man behind the flowing pen.
Yet adversity’s tomorrow
Brings a refuge from the rain
Where his reader may find shelter now and then.

Once a student, once a teacher,
Once a lover, once a friend,
The seed now feeds the hand that once did sow it.
A philanthropist, a preacher,
Altruistic to the end
He’s theorist, philosopher… and poet.

He’s the universal writer,
He’s the champion of choice;
Every corner of each foreign field he calls.
He’s the independent fighter,
He’s the literary voice;
He will touch your heart before the sunset falls.

©2019 Rod Walford

Gastro-Google Blues

Reducing weight, apparently, is quite the thing to do
If you should find your waist inhibits tying up your shoe
My wife declared our current menu healthy, wise and frugal
But, on a mission, I one night consulted Mr Google.

And what he had to say quite frankly scared me half to death
His information overload just took away my breath
With “Don’t eat this!” and Don’t eat that!”—it filled me with dismay
To find white sugar’s poison—yet I have it every day!

Some say if I don’t eat red meat I could become anaemic
There’s words like phytonutrients and indices glycaemic
Beware of high cholesterol—it rises every hour
If you even look at chocolate or venture near white flour!

Some carbos are not good for you and others quite okay:
White bread is bad and so is wholegrain many people say.
And wheat? Well, that is just about the worst thing ever out
If it doesn’t give you bloating, it’ll surely make you stout!

Potatoes are the worst thing you can put upon your plate
For they expand the waistline at a most alarming rate
And as I Googled on I just could not believe my eyes…
No bread … No pastry…. No ice cream…. No beer… and no pork pies!

I told my wife “He’s crazy this here Mr. Google guy.
He spouts advice like water—it’s enough to make you cry!”
“Now don’t you worry dear,” she said as I began to pine,
“You can’t tell truth from fiction with the stuff you read online”

“I wonder how we’ve lived this long—when we were young,” I said,
“We had no flippin’ gluten free reduced starch wholemeal bread!”
My wife said, “Yes and ice cream once was good for what you’d got:
They’d serve it up in hospitals—and patients ate the lot!”

I said to her, “I’m not so sure I want to break my habit.
If I eat all that green stuff I shall turn into a rabbit!”
“Well, moderation seems to be the way to go,” said she.
“A bit of what you fancy does you good—that’s fine with me!”

Some choices are just common sense and some we can’t avoid
My choice right then was not to join the gastro-paranoid.
So I shut down Mr. Google and his know-all expertise.
My wife said, “Would you like a beer?” And I replied “Yes please!”

© Rod Walford

Rod Walford is an Englishman living in Auckland, New Zealand and has been writing poetry for some 25 years. He is a semi-retired diesel fuel injection engineer. He has self-published several books of rhyming poetry including “Timeless,” “Real Poetry for Real Women (written by a man),” and “One Hour before the Dawn.” Access his website here: www.rodwalfordpoetry.com