Can you spot the seeds of tragedy
or the tricks which make it so?
A great man’s pride? A pile of stiffs
upon the stage? Oh no –
it’s when you trust the ringing bells,
when joy bounds in your heart –
when angels slide down sunbeams, swear
new chance, new self, new start –
when you believe at last you’ve learnt
the lessons of the past
and then repeat the same mistake
once again typecast ‒
or when you wake up with the one
you thought this time would be
a sounder bet, to realise
you’re up the same gumtree...
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Tom Vaughan would be
pleased to hear them.