Sunday 27 September 2015


When are you going to see?
When will you understand?
Doesn't mean you own me
just 'cos I held your hand.

Won't be just another photo
in a playboy's book of fame:
mere pawn to inspire a moment of envy
in some pathetic one-upmanship game.

So goodbye, I've had enough now
of high class predatory wolves.
Can no longer stand being kept in the closet
with your tweeds and worsted wools.

I'm going back to my home now,
where rustic roots run deep.
Oh I've finally realised where my future lies -
far away from some cosseted creep.

Well what will you do without me?
Just find another gullible fool
and turn her head with charm and champagne
until she really believes you're cool!

But maybe someday you'll comprehend
that even mongrels like us still feel,
and we don't exist solely to provide a diversion
until you marry your social ideal.

Saturday 19 September 2015


In a garden, I'm sitting
on the wall beside the fish pond.
A giant oak tree towers high
above me, heavily laden.
An occasional acorn plops
into the water, displacing the algae,
and huge Koi faces appear in the gaps,
intrigued by these unfamiliar disturbances.

Pillow cases and duvet covers
are hanging on a washing line nearby.
All those stories they could tell:
of bodies sleeping, restless, or making love
within crisp cotton. Intimate secrets
none but the genuine psychometrist will ever learn.

My gaze returns to the pond. The fish
have retreated, leaving dark empty spaces.
Sun dips behind pavilion roof,
bathing the garden in shadows
and pre-autumnal coolness.

Then a barrage of acorns
shatters the remaining patches of algae.
Pond population dives for the safety of the depths
as the final glow of daylight
traces their paths in rippling silver...
momentarily highlighting the faces of the Gods.

Hi Guys, 
I am taking a short break now. I will miss you and will catch up with you all again soon.
Meanwhile...have a brilliant week!:))

Saturday 12 September 2015


Within the dahlias a vision of him
beguiles my senses:
a beloved image flitting from flower to flower
like a butterfly on a summer's day
that I so long to follow.

There are petals on his shoulders
and lodged in his braces.
His eyes scrutinise cottage windows
anxiously seeking my mother's younger face,
and his countenance crushes my heart.

No one can stop him waiting here,
although he is so tired of waiting.
He longs to take her again in his arms,
to escape the bitter loneliness of limbo.
Yet he remains as always.
Always in this eternal moment,
in his army uniform,
all the years between forgotten.

The garden is in full bloom as it was then,
just after the war.
But new people tend it now.
A profound love of dahlias
               has brought us all here
                                 to this surreal intersection,
where all I can do is observe
four strangers having a barbecue...
and share my father's anguish.

Saturday 5 September 2015


Remember how we used to believe in dreams?
Now we haven't even the time it seems
to stroll along that Cornish shore
where we pledged we'd be lovers for evermore.

Oh when did we stop seeing the moon and stars,
and begin to bicker like children of Mars?

I can still recall how we used to love -
anywhere, any time, was the time for love.
We never held back, just gave our all.
I remember how I held you oh so tight...
and our hungry kisses all through the night.
Such passion then held us in thrall.

Well look at us now, this old married pair:
think we have it all sussed in our gilt-edged lair.
But is this all our lives have been leading to?
This familiarity that swallowed our dreams
has bred an indifference too.

Oh whatever happened to those reckless nights
when we dared to love beneath city lights?