A Few Years In The Life of a Protest Poet

By Lori Crasnich

'I began writing poetry/ditties shortly after moving down to Cornwall back in 1977. It's amazing how inspirational the lapping of the tidal waves can be. Whilst working on a building, I began writing poems about all the different workers on the toilet walls. These were humorous and inoffensive, and although I'd written about the gaffer, he must have liked them, as he never sacked me. 

'The pandemic caused me to put my thoughts down on paper, ranging from what we've done to this planet and its wildlife, to how the Government has dealt with each situation, good or bad.' 

Lori Crasnich

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Dec 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398455368

Lori Crasnich

Born in Italy in a small north-eastern village called Torso, he came over to Birmingham with his family in 1955, aged four. He came first in the fourth year English exam: didn’t go too well with his classmates! Moving to Cornwall in his 20s, he dabbled in poetry while working on a building site. His varied career included being the landlord of a number of Cornish pubs. He returned to Birmingham in 2000 after his divorce. He met his Caribbean Queen and married her in Gretna Green in 2017. He is now as happy as a pig in chiffon!

Book preview

The WC Poet

I found my calling as a water closet poet,

It began on a building site, wouldn’t you just know it?

I was a young labourer with plenty of might

When I first picked up a pencil and started to write.

I wrote about everyone, no one was spared,

I wrote about things that no one else dared.

The good things, the bad things that they’d all proposed,

So it was all left to me, so I wrote and exposed.

Vendettas were aired and feuds saw the light

And the builders argued that it wasn’t done right.

They said that some things are best left alone,

Especially when some felt they’d have to atone.

Life by the Sea

I’ve taken to writing some verses, and sometimes, they turn out quite well.

Some are of everyday topics, others are quite hard to tell.

I write about things all around me, of beauty, sadness, and fear.

I go for long walks on the beaches, you can see for miles when it’s clear.

There are seagulls flying up above me, they screech as they dive bomb with glee.

They no longer fish in the ocean, and one has just pooped over me.

They say if you’re pooped on, you’re lucky, but I don’t think that is quite true.

As I looked up to dodge his misgivings, I found that I’d trod in dog poo.

There’s problems we’ll have to face up to, it’s how we cope that determines our fate.

Sometimes we may take the wrong road, it’s hard to always be right.

Only life can give you experience, it teaches you how to survive.

With all this world famine and killing, it’s still wonderful to be alive.

Remember, there are people far worse off, you’re never the one at the end.

You’ll find that being part of a family is truly the greatest Godsend.

So, forget all the troubles around you, for life can be easy to bear.

Here’s wishing you have a good Christmas and also a happy new year.

My Forest of Dreams

I had a dream only last night; I dreamt of the people I knew.

I dreamt of the beauty around me, and I even dreamt about you.

To dream of life is so easy the grass is so green over there.

The flowers are always in full bloom, and you go through life without care.

The serious things have no reason; they just seem to fly through your mind.

The problems that once may have plagued you have gone now; they’re far behind.

The birds are all singing in my dream, and animals walk up to me too.

The trees are all waving and shouting and saying, Hi, how are you?

I answer them all back in tree talk I’m fine, thank you all very much!

The giant oak shakes off his old leaves; they’re yellow and soft to the touch.

As I walk on, the foxes and rabbits walk along arm in arm happily.

All the creatures get on well together: from the big bear right down to the bee.

The bees are all busily working; they fly to each flower one by one.

The flowers all give up their nectar; that’s life in my forest of fun.

Everyone’s laughing and jumping; we’re leaping as high as the trees.

The squirrel has dropped all his acorns; he was blown off the branch by the breeze.

We help him to get them together; there are many all over the floor.

He’s so lucky to have many good friends; these friends are all honest and pure.

We’re all singing along while we’re working; the squirrel thanks us all for our help.

It’s good