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Oh Little England The Empire has crumbled The Colonialists long gone But the Landed Gentry Carry on like nothing has changed They inherited wealth...

i used to be able to repair myself sprout phantom limbs better versions now, i flick rocks at the faultlines and the whole thing caves it starts in...

New School, Big School Trembling, treading soft Tiny, shy and over-awed Through the cavernous Cathedral of learning Goggle-eyed with fear Tippy-toed...

It had been a long night in the studio (not a ‘Hard Day’s Night’, those ended a long time ago) and he knew that she would be in bed. He’d be quiet,...

(in memory of Sylvia Plath) I know my branches, I feel with my trunk deep down into the warm moisture known since birth. It is the wind playing,...

A perspective.

In February, as winter drew to a close, I posted IN THE GARDEN, a poem in haiku form. Now it is November - time for another winter and another poem...

I drafted most of this story a few years ago. Today, I looked at it again and found a way to finish it. It's the first time I've used a female central character, so would be interested to know if I've got it right!

Humanities Unkind By Paul McCann The wind roars like a mighty lion around the Southbank side. It cuts like steel the scars won’t heal deep on the...