Francis Bennion - Poetry - Poemotions - Up and Away in the Universe

Only this morning I received in the post an important worrying official letter
inviting me to purchase, at a very considerable discount, my humble council house.

The Baptist Minister, to whom I naturally resorted at once for skilled advice,
assures me it is a sound proposition, from which eventually a large Capital Gain might accrue.

I'm still worried.

Only last night, only last night,
I hadn't a care - it's the truth.
Spend the cash in your weekly packet:
the Landlord looks after the Roof.

III

The Minister preaches to us every Sunday that God is really rather like that:
cast all your cares upon His Great Shoulders and you can happily
carry on regardless (or so I gather).

Yet only this morning I received this official letter, which shook my wife Annie even more than me.
Notwithstanding the huge future Capital Gains, what are we to do
when the place starts falling down around us?

Start of page 295 in the book

Only last night, only last night
we happily kissed - it's God's truth.
Spend the cash in your weekly packet -
the Landlord looks after the Roof.

Annie and I tonight will toss, and turn and dream and scream.
It is undoubtedly nightmarish to contemplate becoming
a Capitalist - that we both feel:
while aware we might well be wrong.

Suppose this nightmare should spread wider and wider,
profitable though we are assured it is.
What worries poor Annie and me above everything is
God might sooner or later invite us to become Capitalists.

Start of page 296 in the book

A Sceptic in Westminster Cathedral

When I, unbeliever or at least agnostic,
find myself wasting my time in this echoing Cathedral,
having wandered in from Victoria Street out of the cold,
helplessly seeking I suppose some celestial comfort,
I feel in awe, that's the first thing I do,
feel in awe of MONEY!

MONEY erected this grand Roman Catholic edifice
paid out, gold sovereign by sovereign, in the eighteen-nineties
to bricklayers, architects, stonemasons
later paid out in notes in the nineteen-seventies
to clever ones who made its hitherto drab interior
speak of today

MONEY is still demanded in Westminster Cathedral
by notices asking for a million pounds
just for a start.
Yes the round-headed windows speak of today
showing light green against the frame
of dark pink brickwork

The half-rising marble speaks of today
showing mottled, green and pink
below the frieze of dark brickwork
The altar baldacchino, flanked by yellow pillars
speaks of today, dark brickwork above
speaks possibly of divine love (I wouldn't know)

Start of page 297 in the book

The huge dark overhead dome, of brickwork
speaks of today, as does
the dark muttering priest
uttering, in accents acquired in a warmer clime,
the ancient words
thought by some to be sublime

The people congregating seem to believe
the whole speaks of today
In front of me a young couple
skinny, poor, speak
softly to one another of today
and their tomorrow

Three thin boys stand in a patch of sunlight
wearing white cotton shirts
and near-black trousers.
Tentative, hands clasped,
the boys are made quiet by the priestly voice
that speaks of today - and their tomorrow

Later the tallest boy, leading the way gracefully,
the one with the darkest head,
heads resolutely towards the exit
steers for the way out
leads the other young ones
to the future they now seem to feel God offers them.