Latest Poetry

Distemper: early type of paint before emulsion; a deranged condition of mind ...

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Why did she say “I’ll be back soon”when she knew that it was a lie?It was not simply an ‘Arrivederci’but a deliberate and final goodbye. She felt stifled and needed spaceand said so in her Dear John letter.As long as the status quo remainedher situation would not get  better. Was well aware of the consequence-  the likelihood of an ugly divorce –but life with the newly found freedomwould significantly alter its course. The world would ...

Drifting into midnight, loosening ties to waking illusions, we enter the greater place. Vaguely familiar but shielded by misty confusion to those who fear. For death comes nightly and resurrection with waking. So why reject the natural progression of day to night, or life to life again? Unpredictable, perhaps challenging, the path ahead... but earth years are little more than sign posts on a hazy, forgotten road. And Karma rules, as sure as my belief ...

Will you walk in the Bluebells with me? For times are changing; And only yesterday I was young and now, older, tomorrow? older still… Come, meet me in the woods, where light is shredded by the pines and ground becomes our sacred bed, full circle for one born to love out doors. I will caress you in sun-speckled splendour; Skin on skin in moss and leaves, Heart to heart and swapping breath for sighs alive ...

Head bowed against siling rain Collar up shielding ears Hat brim a leaking spout Shoes beat a tattoo as He Lowried, Uphill, Cobbled streets. And cursed his need of meat And bread And eggs And milk for tea. A passing car scythed Gutter water Over polished shoes He raised his fist And cursed a curse That, against the wind skirl Went unheard A shopping list Suit out from Wizard cleaners. Perhaps, if he had the ...

We all take criticism of our work in different ways. Sometimes we thank the critic and sometimes we are cut to the quick by brutal honesty. If I say your poetry’s great Please don’t reciprocate Just say what you think It won’t cause a stink I will not shout or berate If you find my wit makes you weary If you think my poems are dreary If my purple prose Gets right up your nose ...

The reason I feel so alive, Is ‘cos I learned to dive Between you and me Vitamin sea Is all you need to survive ...

The Best? We are surrounded by it, we are forced-fed it: candy-floss sentiments, pink and fluffy asinine clichés, the disposable phrases that bedeck cards and gifts. Like Christmas, there is that insidious pressure to conform. What if she was the source of constant pain, emotional damage the ongoing battle with insanity/sanity. What if she manipulated, triangulated, got drunk on sympathy? What if she wasn’t caring; what if she only wanted others to think she was? ...

I sucked the marrow out of the bone of life And make it whistle for me the song of my death; And my death shall lead my life like a mother goose. I begin now at 45, Let loose my tongue, And hurl my words at the world. Through the folly of my fallen body and failing health, I lie because I can, and believe in nothing for nothing’s sake; And I perfume my breath ...