Mark Snow pulled up in his van
alongside a very old beech tree.
The county said it had to come down
and he’s a carpenter, you see.
The tree was troubling a boundary wall,
for a hundred years it had stood there
and Mark was eying up the wood,
thinking how beautiful, thinking how rare.

Before they knew it he’d shimmied up
and tied himself to its branches.
Three days later he hadn’t come down -
somehow he fancied his chances
of saving the tree from the chainsaw blade,
a spur of the moment decision,
armed with no more than a woolly hat
and a can to store his fluids in.

Villagers plied him with fish and chips,
sandwiches and cups of tea.
People drove past and honked their horns -
they said he was just like Swampy.
But Mr Snow (Snoz to his friends)
said, “I am not a crusty.
I’m a reluctant activist,
I don’t want people to recognise me.

I’ll stay up here as long as it takes
and then I’ll shave my beard off.
I’m normally tidy and smartly dressed,
I don’t make a habit of looking a scruff.”
He rose to the challenge, an ordinary chap,
and this is what impressed me.
He’s not like Swampy; I’m not like Snoz -
My way is writing poetry.

© Heather Wastie

Barking mad? Not me, says the arboreal answer to Swampy
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Heather Wastie is a wordsmith, humorist and musician with a rich professional life as poet, composer, singer, songwriter, keyboard player and facilitator.  Find out more at Heather's website.

Sparky's handiwork
dripped from the prongs
of a forklift truck

When they opened up the container
the murder scene
smelled phenomenal

Brett McCarthur gasped -
462 cases
in one fell swoop

When Sparky got the call
he was gut-wrenched
at having to kiss goodbye

to months of hard work,
over a million dollars
and his Velvet Glove

finest shiraz
dropped from a great height
never making the ship

Thankfully he wasn't a man
to operate
without insurance

© Heather Wastie

Australia: Forklift mishap destroys $1m of shiraz wine
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Heather Wastie is a British poet, musician, performer & facilitator, born in the Black Country, now living in Worcestershire.

I dreamt I wore my nightie in the supermarket,
shuffling down the aisles in slippers
searching for the cornflakes.

I dreamt I wore my nightie on the school run,
hadn't shaved my legs but luckily
I'd thought to have my hair done.

I dreamt I wore my nightie on the tv,
loads of people desperate to see me.
Glad I had the sense to wear some lippy.

© Heather Wastie

There's a time and a place for pyjamas
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Heather Wastie is a wordsmith, humorist and musician with a rich professional life as poet, composer, singer, songwriter, keyboard player and facilitator.  Find out more at Heather's website.