Today’s poem
Sitting in central London It’s 12 o’clock midday, I can tell that by my timepiece And its digital display. It seems in working order But something just feels wrong, Only then do I realise I haven’t heard a bong. There hasn’t been a power cut Or nuclear attack, They just need to make allowances For the poor old steeplejacks. As the clock must be dismantled And Big Ben must be still ’Cos he’s such a mighty bonger He could make the people ill. But have they stopped to consider, Thought for a minute or two Of the effect on the national psyche And the damage it could do? If Big Ben must be silent For years or however long, Surely it’s imperative That we still have a bong? It’s going to spell disaster For the News At Ten; It’ll lose all its gravitas Till the chimes resume again. So I’m calling on the multitudes Wherever you belong. Can’t you see your country needs you? Needs you to go ‘bong’! At the top of every hour Let’s hear it loud and strong, All across the nation, Everyone just go ‘bong’. Then repeat it by that number As befits the time of day, You might get some funny looks But don’t worry what others say. All races and religions, People of every age, Unite in this futile gesture — It’s what’s needed at this stage. A symbol of defiance Against everything that’s gone wrong, A lot of little voices Can make a mighty ‘bong’. G. Bell, Eastleigh, Hants