Wednesday, 2 March 2016


The cool girl at school
Who called me fat and ugly.
 Now size of a house!

Sunday, 28 February 2016

The honeybees

A cacophony of crickets chirrup
Their strident summer sonata
Hidden in heady scented honeysuckle
Neath wooden shuttered windows.
Perfume and percussion permeating
The broiling boudoir,
Where sweat soaked bodies mingle
On scrunched and wrinkled sheets
In languid explorations of the everyday.

Honeybees drone
Sipping ethereal ambrosia
Out flagrant, fragrant buds.
A kamekaze colleague
Flying fruitlessly at fastened shutters
Seeking secret nectar.
A hero in its lilliputian mind.

Inside, diabolic digits delve deep
Twixt florid furtive folds.
Animas coalesced in bliss,
Arching, twisting writhing, and still
Honeybees drone,
Crickets chirrup,
And somnolent shadows slumber.

Tuesday, 13 October 2015


The sun rose to its height  
In a midsummer sky. 
I  wired up my walking boots, 
Stout brave shoes 
Which laughed at stubble, 
And splashed through iron brown streams 
In their stride. 
I took up my can  
Of thick, strong, red brown tay, 
Sweet , 
With white sugar, not brown 
And a dash of milk. 
Together we would step once more 
Across the dams of my youth, 
Slosh through fresh, mountain streams, 
Creep warily around bovine bottoms 
Caked in excrement, 
And walk the stubble filled fields 
Empty now of hay, 
And my people. 
Generations of shirt sleeved spirits 
Leaning on their rakes and forks 
Sweating in the sunshine 
Would rejoice in the sight of me, 
With the tay. 
erhaps for the last time, 
I'll sit amongst the memories 
And sip my lukewarm brew, 
Communing with my dead, 
reparing myself 
For that  hollow moment 
When clay meets wood. 
When all I will have 
Are memories 
And sweet red tay.

Sunday, 9 November 2014

Grant me my day

Grant me my day.
Bestow your omnipotent blessing
On this frailest of frames,
Dipping and diving, 
Defiantly elastic, 
A ferocity of fluidity
In alien aqueousness. 

Grant me my day.
To envelop my kin with love,
Kiss their salt cheeks, 
Gaze into their pellucid pools
All seeing soothsayers,
Channelling their future, 
Broad avenues to their past.

Grant me my dark.
Consent to cushioned comfort,
The consequent closure of my eyes, 
Cessation of terrestrial triviality. 
I plead etherial continuation
In unplumbed precincts.
Grant me new days.

Today reading Salvatore Quasimodo with the real Toads, , I was inspired to think about what I would do with my last day. This was the result.

Have a lovely day folks.

Wednesday, 5 November 2014

Sea View

Boney bum shuffle
Pebble padded sea sprayed pew
A room with a view

A Haiku written to remind me of the hours I have spent sitting on the pebbles on Brighton beach, England.

Wednesday, 29 January 2014


Reading of the Limerick

There once was a boy from New York
Especially fond of roast pork
He sat by the fire
To his mother's great ire
And banged on the floor with a fork

An unsuccessful attempt at Twitter poetry, 1 character over, sorry. Joining with Imaginary garden with real toads.

Tuesday, 28 January 2014

Our river

Immortal river 
Still pools and white crested waves
How have I known you?

A haiku to share with dverse at