Category Archives: writing

Strange things…


Here they all are – arrayed before me

There was a time – yes, there was a time

When such things did not exist

But now with their – at’s and dots and coms

They are part of life

Taken-over they have – from the stamp-addressed

Here they all are – arrayed before me

In a special folder – set apart to hold

their strung-together-look

Their spaceless in-between

To take my communications across the ether-world

I stop – I stare – at their part in my life

These that once did not exist

All embraced – differently by me –

than the younger generation who have them

Embraced as ‘second nature’ interludes

like burps or pauses

Or as real as clothes they wear

Essential codes oft-dreamt-up to just be different

My eye scans old ones – now defunct?

Mailer daemon – may be their destiny or fate

As I reflect on the persons behind these syntax mates

– Old friends long since not seen

I wonder if I can reach them – all thirteen

And to my chagrin – none of these email addresses

Bring me warm greetings in return

Sugar-coated raspberry


I look out across the world

By means of screen’s

still and moving images

And writings here and there

And by all manner of observation

with listening ears

And everyone offers us the real deal

What is major to them – must be major to us

And everybody has a view

And everybody has need of ‘getters on board’

And some find and admit their need of love

And others seek the power and the money

Philosophy and policy and products presented

Policemen correcting and breaking the rules

Leaders missing the detail and using the broad brush

Tell us to ‘follow and all will be well’

And talk-show hosts keep us amused

And bankers on our toes

Blatant liars tell us they are true

And animal lovers – never want pups aborted

Only babies will do

And those who refuse to be judged

Judge the judgers

And it’s a mess – but sugar-coated raspberry

Or do you prefer strawberry jam?

Do you hold a view? – write to your MP

Which now seems the thing to do

All manner of voices ring in

our ears that are willing to listen

But the need for hearing-aids is growing

Drowned observations in the riotous crowds

Coming to the end of their tether

All shout-out to be heard above the wealth of dictators

Some try to find a place of quiet rest

Until again the engine of discontent revs up it’s refusals

‘What a world – what a world!’– is heard somewhere

It makes no difference to ‘Tutt tutt!’

It won’t do – but we do it anyway

We ramble in hope or despair –

It’s communication madness

Producing no resolve

So find your bandwagon and climb on board

You know you want to

Beat your drum – you will anyway –

without my permission

“What are you looking for?” – I hasten to ask

You say: “None of your business”

As you take me to task

We haven’t got very far

Only a note of a letter begun

The confusion has knocked me

into apathy’s cul-de-sac of numb



As a young dad – comparatively so

I grabbed my girls and lifted them high

They enjoyed that – and so did I

Fun and games we three had

And then

I handed them back to mummy’s grasp

I did it – so quickly – she let out a gasp

“You can’t get out – you can’t get out!”

Was a favourite game – as I held them in armlock

Very gently – you understand – in pretence deadlock

They loved to escape and stand triumphant

As I continued with “you can’t get out!”

They laughed at dad because they had won the bout

In this age where natural affection for our kids

Is slipping away as parents fall-out

Join me in loving them to bits

Leave them without a shadow of a doubt

As I Sloped in…

As I Sloped in…

As I sloped into the restaurant

I noticed the checkered tablecloths

I quickly computed my vision

To try to decide what it reminded me of

I didn’t notice I had stood-still in deep concentration

in the middle of the floor –

nowhere near the ‘wait here to be served’ sign

Rifling through my past experiences of

Checkered tablecloths – my mind jumped from

Neckties to shirts and blouses –

I jumped to black and white distant

Pathe news reminiscences of camouflaged warships

Ending with the Oklahoma musical that contained

the quintessential essence of checks

At least in my blurred memory it did

I got past the checkerboard pattern enough

To look at the menu when seated

This was a pregnant moment – that moment of


When the perusal of choices once again has to

conclude – there’s little variation in the chicken dishes

Have you noticed that?

Chicken is on the way out

I don’t eat steak since my wife

weaned me of it when first we met

Chicken she makes – and chicken we eat

With little thought for other meat

But though I have had a

checkered-past in restaurants

I am sat staring at the tablecloth and drifting

Into another painting in my head

Before I write this poem – instead

Unfinished Point


Now what is the sum total of the population’s mindset

As we drift and drift further from the truth?

What comes all-out into full view by the bleatings of the lips?

What manifests itself with one accord in disagreeing diversity?

These and many more questions could be asked

What is the fashion of things in the twenty-first century?

Let’s take a pause and just make a list of worthwhile attributes

But even in this we cannot agree

Some see no madness – some – nothing but

Am I trying in a roundabout way to make some profound point?

Profound? – You couldn’t spell it…” – says she to me

Well it’s P_R_O

“Save your breath – I’m being sarcastic – you obviously didn’t know?”

“Anyway get back on track – I think you have a philosophical turn of mind…”

Yes and no – that’s for me to know and you to find out

I will leave you now – as my ‘diatribe’ about the state of affairs is not appreciated –

I can sense your vibe

Let me close with a quote:

‘Et tu brute then die…’ all reason and normality must not be allowed to run amok or influence society and get it back on track


Poetic Muse III


I don’t know what way it goes together

I fiddle and bump and cajole

I stop for a brake

Go for a stroll

Come back – back at it

Fiddle and footer and make another attempt

Can’t get anywhere – time ill-spent

Will I give up?

One more try

That leads to ten more

My oh my!


Tell you what – leave it for now

There’s bound to be a solution

It’s not good for the constitution


“No don’t touch please…” – to my son

“What have you done?”

Only gone and fixed it –

All part of his agenda

Of post-modern fun

Poetic Muse II


Doesn’t matter how big a man

Big bolstering impressive frames


Doesn’t matter a dicky bird what

A man might say

swinging ball and chains

Raising shoulders to ear line

Flexing muscles and gasping aloud


Doesn’t matter

No answer to be found

In his brain


‘Cause the final curtain to all must come

The stepping over – out of range

The hereafter beckons – the call goes out

We are leaving the planet there is no doubt


Big confident mentor to you

Whose got it together in mouth and tongue

Money in the bank – and having fun


Film star smile – and intellectual bent

Doesn’t matter – when it comes to – good-bye

Where’s he headed for – beyond the sky?

Big as King Kong – or dominant stance

Been round the world and back to France


Doesn’t matter if alcohol fuelled

Macho man or Mr. World

He’s as small as a bird –

a robin’s territory

may be his domain –

but ruling roosts is no gain –

when it comes to the departure lounge


You feel safe when he’s around

Sitting with your smile at his performing rant

You’d be like him – but admiration

says you can’t

Don’t put your trust in got-it-together-guys

They are as clueless as you –

why are you surprised?


So take note and remember the final line:

The shortness of our sparkly fuse

And start to ponder what we all have to lose


It’s time to take stock

(Have a vitamin C drink)

Men are less impressive than you think


So envy no one – be yourself

Accept your smallness on a day of grace

And you will find the answers

For what lies beyond outer space

Poetic Muse I


The street is not for sale

Even though progress claimed it

Even though I left it

The street is not for sale

Even though I need the money

Even though it isn’t funny

The street is not for sale

It goes beyond the pale

Spiders, smells, and the odd snail

The street is not for sale

Best memories keep intact

You prise ‘em out with a jack

It’s all my front and all my back

My rearview and my heart-beat attack

My ancient recall and all

Reference to better times

Memory and emotion intertwine

The street is not for sale

It could have been somewhere else

A thousand streets in Paris or Rome

A back alley at the Picturedrome

A spontaneous sneeze before I leave

Taste the street at my feet

You can see now – why I think it’s neat

A special-any-old-asphalt surface

Always my purpose…

To return again and again – but

Times change – we move away

We have less to know and more to say

About the childhood street I do picture

It emerges at the end of my finger

Hung up on the wall

– pencil, pen and ink – fountain or ball

No price tag – not for sale

Price too high on the Richter scale

So –

The street is not for sale


Poetic Pause XV


On blue sky so high

Crimson sun all watered down into a frown

Never stopped-over this town

Romance blossomed somewhere else

But lost it’s way never to be found

When hitting the outskirts of this town

Cold impersonal community steeped in self

Suspicion ran rampant causing love to drown

Flailing about and dying in the waters of this town

Poison of asps distributed freely

In wild glances and backbiting melt-down

Division rampant to the extreme – in this town

They lived in houses but not in homes

Barbed wire frozen-in-time-citizens of renown

But all for the wrong reasons – living in this town

So no brochure will direct you here

No holiday to be had in this mental breakdown

Best to avoid at all costs – the place known as ‘this town’

Poetic Pause XII


Well – we can all enjoy words

you can – if you can

We can all weasel-out words

Straight from the can

Some words stink – garbage

Some words are fragrant

Perfume-bottled – and nicely arranged

Dousing the road-side vagrant

He won’t appreciate the gesture

‘cause your superior dousing stinks

As far as he is concerned “don’t

Cover me with your rhyme-word links”

Words are starting to go astray here

Having introduced the negative

Get them back on the track of acceptability

And let them loose on the delicate

Words can be wholesome and pure

These words appear – from a pure heart

Appearing from hearts set-apart

Mouths speak-‘em-out in exhortation-art

Now excuse me I must go

I have more to say on words

But I haven’t the time just now

Must go and feed the birds

Poetic Pause IX


“Hope everything is ok

I’ll be on my way…”

We young ones ought to stay clean

Coffee tomorrow see what it brings

Get together again doing friendship

With all that it means

Solid ever-after friendship

Would’n you just love

To trust your fellow-man or woman?

Wouldn’t it be cool to have an abundance of

The trust commodity?

Band of brothers and all that

Band of sisters too


Thick and thin times

Times to unwind – rest easy

Relaxed in your company

You know me – as I know you

Relationship forged through highs and lows

Just friendship – no romantic interruptions

To foggy-waters-make

Just telephones – keeping up to date

Real concern when concern is needed

Real listening ears when talk must be spoken

Helping hand when legs are football-broken

Or –

something in your eye?’ – let me have a look

Long distance calls – you’re away on a course

See you soon – look forward to our discourse

You brought me back a present from the other town

A hand-made doll of a clown

You’re trying to tell me something – I can tell…

Banter exchange like only we know

How to take it and give it too

No animosity

as again – you know me and I know you

Life long – don’t let it go wrong

The only thing in this rat race

Is to find a friend

Nothing can take it’s place…

Poetic Pause VIII


He heard animals in his doze

The clink of chains holding bulls at bay

He heard dogs barking and sheep bleating

Wolves howling and rats squeaking

And then he woke up

Stupefied stare – at what just happened

Real and unreal conclusions considered:

‘I know it’s a dream

But is this the scene –

Round about me – nearby

this Bed and Breakfast?

Where green fields greet

my parting of curtains

Give me a minute while I just check

Looking to and fro

But yes – but no…?’

No evidence yet that

reality had authored his dream

Time now to laugh at the silly thing

His wife lay – still dozing

Time to playfully wake her up

With a tickled chin

Now they were both making their way

Through the corn flakes and toast

“I had a dream about animals and

The clinking of chains” she said

He choked on the lumpy marmalade