Tom McGreevy is an poet based in Berkshire, England. He was a member of the British Armed Forces for over a decade. The simplicity of his poems is what makes them moving and inspirational: He has an ability to write simply about large issues using expressions that anyone can relate to. He is currently working on another book of poems entitled I'm a Soldier...Get Me Out of Here!
Below are two poems from his book Poems for Paula. More poems from the book are featured on his website.
To visit his website, go to www.poetryfromtommcgreevy.weebly.com
You can support this author by purchasing Poems for Paula here.
FTP Consultancy
The Beer Mat Conspiracy
Have you noticed tables
Empty in the pub ?
Devoid of cardboard Beer mats
Where stacks of them once stood
"The Ashtrays" & "The Speed Humps"
They both have had their say
But what about us Beer Mats ?
It’s time we had our day
No Newspaper announcements
Nothing on the news
We’ve all just disappeared
No Ballot of our views
Who made this mad decision?
To take us all away
Whilst Drinkers in their Millions
Rely on old Drip trays
Down & outs did use us
For plugging holes in shoes
And wedged in wobbly table legs
And blocking up the loo’s
Lovers rowing at the table
Tearing me apart!
I’m crying tears of dripped beer
Even Beer Mats have a heart
Drunken games of 'Frisbee'
Were played with me before
And love poems written on me
But none of this, no more
The game of 'Flip-the-Beer Mat'
You won’t see nowadays
Now flashing 'One-Armed Bandits'
Amuse in other ways
One thing always puzzled me
While thinking, this and that
"Which tree was my Father? And
Why were we all called ‘ Matt?"
Remember us dear drinker
A heart it beats within us
My favourite 'Tipple' of the night
Was when they spilt "The Guinness"!
I went off for recycling
Gone back to 'Meet my Maker'
You’re probably just now reading me
Upon recycled paper
---
Ashtraycide
The government had a plan
To wipe us ashtrays out
"Let’s implement a Smoking Ban"
In Parliament they shout
July the First, in one foul swoop
I’m instantly redundant
The tables now stand empty
Where once we were abundant
I miss the warmth of fag ends
And matches burning down
I miss the stubby fingers
All nicotine and brown
Sometimes we’d get stolen
From cafes, clubs, and bars
Taken home in handbags
Kidnapped in their cars
Now I’m used in bedrooms
For loose change from their pockets
Or even worse, for holding up
A bank of broken sockets
I miss the smokey atmosphere
The laughter and the glee
Sometimes I’d get a little drunk
If beer was spilled in me
The sounds of "Pass The Ashtray"
We’ll never hear again
This phrase should be our epitaph
Let history not be swain
The people of the future
Will not know we existed
A little glass receptacle
Now bitter and all twisted
Thousands crushed and broken
Recycled, born anew
Wiped out in a single day
To please The Chosen Few
So I’m a worried ashtray
Waiting for my fate
Unless they pinch another one
And then I’ll have a mate
So think of me, when in the pub
And wonder where I’ve gone
Sod the other ashtrays
Just "FREE THE ASHTRAY ONE"
---
