Droplets of Verse: ‘Mr Pickering – The Axeman Cometh’

Mr Pickering lost his job at the Ministry of Defence
For indulging in far too much bickering
But years ago, he bought an axe head, to chop down a tree
Fitting it to a wooden handle was another thing
He made himself at home in a gloomy garage
Didn’t even stop for a cup of tea, or a dump
He chiselled away, but his tool was way too blunt
Progress was slow,  Axeman stared at the reluctant stump

Maybe learning to play the guitar
Would have been a realistic alternative
Definitely would have been quicker
The damn wooden handle simply wouldn’t give
Mr Pickering held onto the patience of a saint
And hoped his prayers would be answered
The stubborn nature of that wooden handle
Reminded him of a tough old, angry bird

His belief remained intact, soon the blade would fly
Axeman would enter the garden, a gladiator
Head of axe snug and tight, welded to the handle
Axeman visualised swinging his instrument, playing a mean air guitar
He’d serenade the flowers, play solos to the shrubs
Before destroying a completely innocent tree
A desecration, a brutal betrayal of Mother Nature
Thankfully, fate decreed it wasn’t meant to be

Oh how that lonely axe head ached!
For the handle to fill its hole
To be an instrument capable of raucous air guitar
To swing along the breeze, a slice of rock and roll
Hours passed by, in that slowest of executions
Feverishly, Mr Pickering dreamt of catching beaver
To work that killing field for him
Just then, it occurred to him to pursue a different career

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “Droplets of Verse: ‘Mr Pickering – The Axeman Cometh’

  1. Polly says:

    I really like the reference to guitars in this, especially when you first bring it in: ‘Maybe learning to play the guitar / Would have been a realistic alternative / Definitely would have been quicker’ it stopped me as it seemed incongruous and made me smile. Then, when you followed it through in the second and third stanzas, it became most satisfying – I’ve read this a few times now and think it one of those poems that improves with each reading – for me, definitely a page rather than a performance poem even if it is a bit daft 🙂

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