November 30, 2009
· Filed under LETS Poetry
The End of the World is Nigh!
The World is quickly coming to an end
With global warming finishing us off.
Politicians drive us round the bend
And bankers are a group at whom we scoff.
We get involved in wars we cannot win
For reasons that our leaders can’t explain.
Our fourth war in Afghanistan’s a sin:
There’ll never be a benefit or gain.
The one redeeming feature that I see
As round the stricken World I cast my gaze
Is all the folk who interact with me
And blithely help to lighten up my days.
With loving kindness, harmony and mirth,
Such people are the saviours of the Earth!
By Chris Slade
November 30, 2009
· Filed under LETS Poetry
The Dorset Countryside in Autumn
The Dorset countryside is getting grey
With clouds and fog and misty cobwebbed trees
And as you walk your favourite right of way
You shuffle ankle deep through fallen leaves.
The devil spits on blackb’ries at this time
And frosts ensure the end of ling’ring flowers
But sloes there are for gin and pies and wine
And fungi in the fields untouched by mowers.
The tourists no more stalk the coastal path
In numbers as they did a while ago;
Instead they toast their toes before the hearth
Until the hours of sunshine once more grow.
The mellow Dorset person likes it best:
This season man and nature take a rest.
by Chris Slade
November 19, 2008
· Filed under LETS Poetry · Tagged Credit Crunch, LETS
Credit tight? Not with LETS!
Money short? Favours for LETS aren’t!
Moved away from your friends? Make some more of LETS members!
Bank nationalised? LETS is an independent organisation for independent people!
Scared of recession? Advance with LETS!
Depression on its way? Fight it with LETS!
Pound not worth what it was? Don’t use them! Use your local inflation-proof currency in the LETSystem!
It’s the economy stupid!
By Chris Slade
November 19, 2008
· Filed under LETS Poetry · Tagged dorset, harvest, LETS, poetry
The Winterbourne is running low
Upon this bright October day
Alas, the mushrooms didn’t grow:
This year the seasons are astray.
The summer was so cold and wet;
The autumn, so far, has been dry,
And so this year we just won’t get
Some fungi we could pick and fry.
But never mind, the Brewer’s Arms
Provides us with some beer and lunch
And after that we have the charms
Of trading with the LETSy bunch.
We while away the afternoon
By chatting with like-minded friends
And dinnertime arrives quite soon
As, in the west, the sun descends.
We’ve all brought food along to share.
The ladies to the kitchen go;
And there for us a feast prepare,
Which we consume in double row.
Then Dave and Anne upon the stage
Regale us with some songs and chants
And most sat still – must be their age,
But some of us got up and danced!
The meal was done; the music stopped.
We cleared away the plates and chairs,
And tables too; the floor was mopped.
We packed away our traded wares.
It was for all a pleasant day,
With friends and fellowship and mirth
And as with marts we chose to pay
We surely got our money’s worth!
By Chris Slade
