PUT ANOTHER LOG ON THE TV

            Talking gets harder each day:

            Smokeless zones and telephones

            Have killed the conversation

            Now our lies, laughs, truth and tears

            Have all been swallowed whole

            By another monster

            In another shiny console

 

            Rocking-horse to rocking-chair

            And somewhere in between

            The fireplace has become a flickering screen

            Glowering at the world

            Insisting on silence as it reward

 

            Granddad spat in the fire;

            I spit in your face;

            Old lies die hard.

from my new collection of poetry ’67’.  http://www.tinhuttalespublishers.co.uk/67/