Friday 30 August 2019


Are we or aren't we going to leave?
No one is sure quite what to believe.
The nation has elected to be taken out.
Yet now the decision is in grave doubt,
courtesy of the minority "remainers"
oh such irritating complainers (!)
who've thrown the country into disarray -
civil unrest can't be far away!
They're demanding another Brexit vote,
although the majority chose metaphoric moat
between ourselves and Europe's State,
intending to firmly close the gate
on laws imposed from a foreign place.
Embarrassing it is and such a disgrace
that elected members refuse to honour
the people's wishes and so dishonour
all that made Britain great:
democracy and fair debate.
So come on guys, don't you think it's time
to finally behind Boris stand in line
and support him in a united front
against dictatorship's power hunt?
This is our domain and not theirs,
a precious inheritance to leave our heirs.
We are not German, French or Irish,
but independent and singularly British.
Just think for a moment all you who doubt,
what has our culture always been about -
a self-sufficiency and inventiveness
that makes us unique in our Britishness.
And how do you think we managed before
to survive through more than a single World War?
Before the Union we could hold our own -
and now, deal or no deal, we'll be stronger alone.

Friday 23 August 2019


In Sherwood Forest's filtered sunlight
a shadow darts - a moving tree (?), elusive,
that you never quite completely see.

The Green Man's prophesy from centuries past:
splintered bark. Dying leaves. Poisoned earth.

Passing through the densest part
of the little that still remains,
a woman in pink pauses, shivers,
then hastens on her way.

She's mistaken Him for the rustling ferns
and wind-sigh in the trees. What did she just hear -
and feel - brushing past her sleeve?

Nothing to see.
No outlaws poaching the King's deer.
Not a sign of Herne's secret realm
where He guided all the animals, 
Elementals, and Robin's Merry Men.

Antlers of stag upon his head
and clothed in wolf skin cloak,
He's seen by only a handful who
believe, who've never lost
their connection to the green.

Herne moves swiftly from thicket to tree,
unseen by the idly curious -
those novelty seekers ceaselessly gabbling,
who never stop to listen
to the gentle murmuring, barely heard:
such mournful cries of the living forest,
whose demise they have carved in oak.

Because He is survival's metaphor,
we need to heed Herne's call:

to halt the felling of the trees
and poisoning of the waterways too,
before we find it's all too late
and into the abyss we fall.

For headlong we're boring our relentless way
to that ultimate precipice. Oh Herne,
please reawaken in our time of dire need

and rewire these numbest of skulls!

Saturday 17 August 2019


I'm free
to bask in the sun
and have some fun.
No more bosses
fretting over losses,
or devious shirkers
posing as workers.
Let them tie each other in knots
'cos here they're only minute dots
out of sight across the sea,
far enough away from me:
out of vision is out of mind,
at least that's what I always find
when lying on the golden sand
of Egypt's legendary land.
And when I'm done with lounging here,
I'll be taking in the atmosphere
of Sphinx and lofty Pyramids, where
the Pharaohs' treasures are laid bare -
oh I hope their curses aren't for real!
But, then, I'm not here to steal,
just to experience the foreign culture
of baking heat and desert vulture.
The camels, too, are quite an attraction -
although, trying to mount one I'm driven to distraction!
But that's all part of the thrill I seek,
especially when riding with a handsome Sheikh
to his bedoin tent as his special guest,
where we'll stop a while to take a rest
and dine on eyes of sheep in aspic (??)
(oh do please find me a toilet - QUICK!).
The bubble pipe is more to my taste,
to all inhibitions it soon lays waste.
I'm carried away on flattery's tide -
it feels so good being by his side.
And, before I know it, he's proposed to me,
wants me to be his wife number three!
Oh I'm very tempted, I must admit...
but think I'd be jealous more than a bit
of his other two beautiful wives,
don't fancy a lifetime of crossed knives!
So I tell him his offer I must decline,
'cos I'm much too fond of my life being mine! 😊😊

Friday 9 August 2019


Are you aware you're being stalked by an
Will he put a gun to your head and pull the trigger?
Or maybe run you down as you cross the street?
Oh no,
        not he,
               not this ASSASSIN -
his unique modus operandi is far more subtle than that.

He will creep up on you by degrees.
You'll have no inkling he's even there -
                                                         he's much too wily to be rumbled,
                                                                                                           this ASSASSIN!
(And much too clever)

And please don't fool yourself
that you can hide
                        from the likes of him:
for he will find you
                           wherever you go,
                                                  make no mistake of that.

In fact, he's killing you slowly
                                             even as you read this,
                                                                            your ASSASSIN.
"Well, does he at least have a name?"
                                                     I hear you ask.
                                                                        Indeed he does.

It is..............."TIME."