Snowmen in August

So I get a message from my brother on the bank holiday at the end of the summer. He is thinking about visiting.

No Fairytale, This

(Black shoe - prawn sandwich inspired by a piece in the national press)

5.00 a.m. – Heathrow,
Terminal 3, eerily quiet;

Murder in Middle England

Stephen Baker sipped his freshly poured pint of real ale, having just murdered his wife.

Down The Street

Maybe all of those characters are simply mirrors of ourselves.............

Lonely Old Dog

At the end of line at the back of a cage
Sits a lonely dog who's getting on in age
Been there for months, coming up for a year
His family left him, not one drop of a tear.

Part 8 : How God helped me….

Another installment of How God helped me.


Resting my head against your bedroom door

We are drawn to each other
our wounds are magnetic
our wrists together
form train tracks to
your bedroom


The appointment at an opticians
I had chosen to go
as it was cheaper there
for an eye sight test

I was welcomed in
and a puffer used in each eye
then sat in a chair

Snow Fairy

A cute snow fairy poem

Fairy Dance

A playful fairy poem

Luna Mystique

Fantasy poem about a witch


Stand guard at the gate of your mind
Opened to the world
The otherness of wide open space

Integrating and observing a part of the consensus of reality
Playing a part in the great dyad


The Underground Is So Mainstream

I wrote this to entertain myself when stuck on a train between Kings Cross and Leeds.

"And the dark blue straits of the Piccadilly line,
seeping towards Heathrow like spilled ink."



Arise, Awake, Assert,
Behold, Beware, Blurt.
Copy, Correct, Create,
Differ, Draft, Dictate.
Engage, Erase Enemy,
Frank, Foolish, Filmy.
Greet, Give, Guide,


Can't Forget You

To wage our own war against identity,
we break our necks to prove that people rarely change.
I have grown up wearing the same clothes,
that my mother wishes I disregard as past.


Abbamania seems to flourish years down the road.............

Poem of the week

i know it's stupid, but i fell for a mannequin

i know it’s stupid,
but I fell for a mannequin

there was something
in the way you held yourself:

your delicate hands
on those immovable hips.

it gave you
a window impudence