Latest Submissions

When you were there with me, doing the chores, running the house paying the bills putting on the table those palatable meals smelling of an unmistakable you, I was writing a different story; reading newspapers and novels at home, going to work, drinking coffee with another cup as my company; how many vegetables grew in the kitchen garden how many were bought, I had no clue I knew the home as home. Suddenly when you ...

Gogul has a list of names inside his head. He stays with them day and night, and every single time he misses the bus to catch his flight. He feels heavy as a rock for the file’s a huge block any new person he meets he gets a shock to find it matching with the list. Toms and Joes With hurts and woes Harrys and Stephens, Oh to him, the dossier stiffens! Tired and heavy, ...

It's all in the mind ...

Sometimes we get what we wish for ...

A hospital destroyed in a bombing raid - soon forgotten ...

I was once told that there's no money in poetry and so the vast majority of poets just do it for the love of it. Those true and wise words inspired me to write this ...

One of my customers died not long ago and she'd been dead in her home for a week before she was found. This is an old poem of mine written about another customer who passed away in similar circumstances. Something's sadly never change ...

Love is like being underwater ...

I think I am the cool sophisticate, the PC Guru then watching the ebb and flow of micro-skirts on a Friday Night, I realise that I'm such a.. Shallow Man I’ve been searching for the Holy Grail Forever and a day All my ‘perfect’ relation-ships Weigh anchor and they sail away I’m a stranger to the truth I’m a stranger in disguise It’s no wonder that she drove away In my cavalcade of lies. I’m ...

has seven hills. All the villages that make up the town start on a hill and fall down to the river. He lets me order him a seventh pint and says, "I walked up everyone o’ those buggers, lugging the coal-pickings like a ruddy labourer. I were born on a Rag and Bone cart. Anyroad, Old Bobby O’Neil and his mares Max and Miller were dragging up Winter Lane. Me mam bawling in labour, and ...

A poem ...

Unmanned, like a bull bereft of all; a flaccid decoration without use; at least if thee had what I have thou could be a woman; eunuch hiding your treasure for marriage and hypocrisy. And leave me with empty decoration; rings without sense, dresses without purpose. Go about your business thou say I want nothing to do with thee now; yet not a month ago it was all Peggy this, Peggy that; such are the changes ...

Based on several true tales of women fighting back against mysoginistic husbands. I hope you enjoy the music or music video at the end of the enty below: HELL HATH NO FURY She sits beneath her juniper trees  A book of shadows on her knees Where hell hath no fury as a woman scorned She’ll make him rue the day he was born   She knows that there’s no greater demon Than a self-righteous soul ...

Just a comment on lurve. When Julie Christie steps from Ormondroyd’s lorry. Swinging her carefree hair Down Bradford streets And on the soundtrack A flute plays happy jazzy music, That’s how I want to feel. I am tired, no bed for the night, A lift has dropped me off In some Black Country town Redditch? Hanley? Burslem? Longton? It’s raining, I need a smoke. Money for beer. A friend to phone and ask, “Can you ...

The importance of finding beauty in the everyday ...