The Trash Problem Solved

THE TRASH PROBLEM SOLVED   - Robin Blackburne

 Background.   By the 1980s, the trash problem in Bermuda was becoming acute and the Pembroke and Airport dumps were no longer able to handle garbage dumping at the current rate.  Government thus decided to seek quotes, from manufacturers around the world, for a huge incineration plant.  The Royal Gazette devoted hundreds of thousands of words, over several years, to the studies and the opinions of many conflicting parties. The contract was finally awarded to Von Roll, a Swiss company. 

(Notes: KBB is the “Keep Bermuda Beautiful” organization.  There is no cremation facility in Bermuda)

    This piece, composed in 1990, gives a feeling for the heated debate at the time.

What SHALL we do with all our trash?

And garbage by the ton ?

“ Why don't we turn it into cash? "

 Is easier said than done.

A thousand ancient pots and pans

           And mattresses galore,

And rusty Coca-Cola cans

Are strewn on land and shore,

The Airport is a favorite spot

To drop bisected cars

As if it were a parking lot

For cranks and axle bars.

The grease from leaking sumps must spill

And, through the meagre soil,

It leaches inch by inch until

Our water's mixed with oil.

The Pembroke dump at back of town

Is not the perfect place

To chuck that unstuffed eider-down

Or unstrung double-bass.

" Re-cycle"" says the K.B.B. "

 “Hear, Hear!” cries National Trust.

 “Incinerate the junk debris

It should by rights combust."

Thus spake the Minister of Works

In nineteen eighty-four.

So at the job a hundred clerks

Embarked upon the chore

Of finding just the very best

Incinerating plant.

(“ What luck " the Minister confessed

 “ If it cremates my aunt." )

So ads were placed around the world

From Denmark to Japan

And soon the mysteries unfurled

To form a mighty plan.

The bids were in, consultants hired

To make evaluation

Of how each plant achieved, when fired,

Complete incineration.

Every angle in the book

Was studied with due care –

Pollution and how long it took

Von Roll and Procedair

To burn a ton of dollar bills

Or melt Bermuda sand.

You’ve guessed of course, from them thar’ hills

Of Snowy Switzerland

The finalist has now emerged.

It is indeed Von Roll.

Our trusty Government has splurged.

This mega-casserole

Has cost a tidy buck or two.

But who are we to care ?

As long as it cremates Aunt Sue –

And never needs repair.

The Onion Patch - First piece composed aged 14

The first piece of verse I composed was at the request of the editor of the Sydney House magazine when i was at School at Oundle in England.  I had no idea what the subject might be, but it suddenly came to me that i should do something on John Scrutton, a contemporary at school and with whom had a love-hate relationship.

So here it is, with background

The Onion Patch   -  Robin Blackburne, aged 14

My first poem ( or rather verse) was composed in January 1948

I was then aged fourteen and at Sidney House, Oundle School.

John Scrutton and I did not really like eachother, and we had a sort of ongoing intellectual banter which ended up by my writing the following piece for the Sidney House Magazine, published in February 1948.

John Scrutton responded with some acerbic verse about me.  I have not been able to trace a copy of the original magazine.  And am still trying to contact John Scrutton in the hope he remembers the text.

Both pieces were published on opposite pages and the Editor entitled the two pieces The Onion Patch.

Here is the first stanza of my piece:

Who does this little bouncing baby try to imitate ?

Is it Shaw or Socrates he likes to quote and state

How Archimedes filled his bath – did not anticipate

That if he entered it when full the floor he’d irrigate

 Plus about four more stanzas, which I do not recall, the last words of each line all rhyming in “ate”

I seem to recall that some of these words included:

Irritate  (which he did me)

Over-weight  (which he was)

Conjugate (referring to school work – we were in the same class)

Mental state  (which he had)

Tolerate  ( I had difficulty in tolerating him)

Circumnavigate (not related to our relationship)

Ruminate (which he did)

Scanning Rhyme and Metre

Scanning, Rhyme and Metre           -    Robin Blackburne

Background

In 1985, Lance Percival, the English Television Personality and Film actor, strayed from his core profession to write and publish a collection of verse entitled “Well-Versed Dogs”.  My mother, who knew him vaguely, gave me a copy of this book.  The verse was seriously bad - doggerel at its most crude - and any attempt at scanning failed in nearly every line of every stanza of every piece.  Even rhyming was a struggle.

I do not recall who the publishers were, but it is pretty certain this was a vanity publication and the publishers were handsomely recompensed by Mr. Percival to print the collection.

         It is possible that this worthy first-time author of “poetry” actually realized his stuff was worse than mediocre, since he added a postscript inviting readers to critique his book.  I don’t know how many letters he received, or indeed if he actually received an accolade or two, but I penned the following piece, under my pen-name Robert Brownlow, by way of a response.

The various breeds of dogs in Mr. Percival’s collection of “poems” are referred to obliquely, such as “King Charles”, “Pekinese” etc.   

I never mailed the letter, since no address was given.      But for posterity………..

Dear Mr. Percival,

                             Here’s my retort

To your kind invitation to write a report

On your first gallant effort at humorous verse

About canines from places as widely diverse

As Australia, Germany, France and Peking

And Kensington Palace where Charles is the King.

I have read with dismay every line in your book

Which is why I believe you should take a good look

At the problems you seem to be having with scanning.

The writing of verse needs inscrutable planning

And since you’ve suggested I write you a ditty,

The metre must flow for a piece to be pretty.

Please accept in the spirit in which it is meant

This critique; for it’s clear that you’ve probably spent

More than eighty-one hours in pursuit of your rhymes

Having finished the crossword in Saturday’s Times.

It is all very well to write doggerel on dogs

(And if there’s a next time you might go for frogs)

But please understand that composing good stuff

Is a disciplined art and exceedingly tough.

You must write and re-write which you may think absurd

But it’s vital the accent’s upon the right word,

Which may need to be shuffled from hither to thither

And this way and that way and thither and hither;

And if it appears that a space is unfillable

Seek an appropriate word of one syllable.

Once you have chosen a metre then stick to it;

Polish and cut and then put a last lick to it.

Don’t go to press with a rhythm that’s crude.

It’s an insult to readers and thoroughly rude.

If you must fool around with Iambic Pentameter

You’re destined, dear sir, to remain a rank amateur

In the hope that this aids the poetical cause

I am

         Robert Brownlow

                               Most Faithfully Yours.

PS

         If you think this was knocked off in less than an hour,

         You’d be right -  but the structure was lacking in power.

         It was chopped, re-arranged and re-written again

Till the metre was perfect to flow like Champagne.

         Then it took six more days to get two percent better;

         Now I trust that you won’t find this too rude a letter.

         Robert Brownlow ( Robin Blackburne )