Saturday, 30 May 2009


Shocking pink carnation tree
Laid back, lay back
Rampant red hammock swaying
On the porch fo my shack

Turquoise water asleep in the pool
Lay back, stay back
Across the ripple, i`m not sinking
Like a yacht, floatings a knack

Emarald grass as hot as us all
Stay back, stay still
I`m not sinking, dont take me away
From my perch on paradise hill

Polka dot bikini bathing next to me
Stay still , lay still
Straw boater preserving vanity
Please dont sink, stay and chill

Golden days, not for sinking
Lay still, laid back
Garden of colour, a limousine feel
Laid back, under a sunshine attack

Lay back out of the sinking
Laid back, switched off from thinking
This man is insistent
I`m not for the sinking

Wednesday, 27 May 2009


Have you ever taken a ride
On a saddle of venison?
Ok, who am i to
Disbelieve in you ?
Was it a bumpy ride
Or was it quite smooth?
Rough to begin until
It founds it`s groove
A good game to play
I would like to say
And even if this is
All so untrue
Be on your way
And good luck to you
He bids me farewell
And grins rather wide
I shall never know
If he actually lied!

Tuesday, 26 May 2009


Ancient ruins is where the scenario began.
Quite some time has lapsed since there was
any significant sign of life here, any
conversation of worth.
A stump of a church, constructed by hand,
by small people for small people, is all
that remains, although there are further
remains under foot.
Mackenzies and Frasers, laid out side by
side, like grey paving slabs, or perhaps
they are just a reflection of the tomb-
stones, that i take an age dechiphering,
reasons for which, there are none.
Clan warfare, would be what left them
all here, closer in casket than in breath.
Infamous until prematurely slain, maybe
by their now permanent neighbours.
And then a song is heard, a peircingly
cute melody, a song to erase any aging
A perfect interception by a solo Chaffinch,
A rainbow of life, vibrating on a still
attached twig.
Is he serenading me or calling a lover,
searching for company in a remote highland
A photoshop moment, reality strikes a chord,
life and death together as one, fishing
for attention, and both winning their own
individual battles as always.
The Chaffinch now demands fully, all
concentration, as there would appear to
exist a second songster, where is yet
to be seen.
It sounds like an echo, but can that
be possible ?
The church is hollow ( in many ways ),
and incapable of a sound rebound.
There must be a solution, and indeed
it soon becomes apparent, that the
answer lies in an apple!
A very modern apple, no core or shiny
red skin to this particular fruit, not
born to any known tree of nature, but
man made in a factory, an institution
of today`s society, familiar to both
you and me.
An apple I-phone is what has stirred
the feathers of Mr Chaffinch, releasing
tunes from his harmonious throat.
It`s set to I-tunes and is playing a
birdsong cd, as it lays alone under
a hedge, and then i see my Uncle,
sitting on a wall nearby, his smile
as wide as a Loch, as he stares up
into the tree.

Monday, 25 May 2009


I`m a deckchair
Sit down please
Oi! not so rough
I`m only fragile
Thats the way
Lovely and snug
Not like the last
Humungous great ass
Whats that your eating ?
Save some for me
The previous occupant
Only had tea
Here we go again
Another complaint
Not my fault mate
Best that you leave
Or else you must pay
For this awful experience
In front of the sea.

Sunday, 24 May 2009


Whats the point in speech
Why was i given a voice
Nobody listens, not deeply
If they knew me enough
Understood just a little
Their sense of hearing
Would become defunct
I do not need my tongue
What i have to say
Is loud and cutting
The volume up to max
A mute man can see it
But the people who surround
Fail to comprehend at all
My conversation is ineffective
Look deeply at me now
This statement i recite
Is imprinted on my pupils
Can you hear me now
Dont look the other way
Defeating the objective
It may taste uncomfortable
Reality is rarely sweet
All i`m attempting
Is to send a message
That although i can write
Powerfully, emotionally
I`d like you to understand
Exactly how i feel.

Saturday, 23 May 2009


Look dad
Look up
On the hill
Not now son
Please keep still
I see a tractor
Right at the top
Cant look
I`m driving along
I cant see what
It`s balancing on
Lampost down
Windscreen blown
If only dad
Hadn`t of looked
Then he would
Never of known

Friday, 22 May 2009


Words and rhyme,penned by the famous
The forgotten and the unknown
Are all unique and never lost
They are only temporarily missing
Stored away for future usage
Stored in shack
The lost poetry shack
Somewhere alone
Strangely remote

Do not despair for even one second
For the company that is kept
In the shack is vast
Meaningful,rhythmic and real
The words are not lonely
They converse with one another
They laugh at
And with each other
They uderstand

Understand each others joy and pain
How it is they came to be lost
Dream of their release again
Virtuosity and patience
Can often be found
Strolling around this language compound
Popularity follows wherever they go
The horded millions
In awe of them both

They stay true to their meanings
And offer great hope
To the infifnite words
Beautiful and sereen
Locked away yes
Lost not ever
Their day is coming
An escape from the shack
Then my friends,no looking back

Thursday, 21 May 2009


I am the last of the english posers
Dancing in those shiny black loafers
In the ballroom at the end of the pier
Eyeing underage girls, supping plastic beer

Nows the time to make a real stand
Picture the bellboy on the door of the grand
Not gonna take this shit no more
Wasnt born to be no mans whore

Just another one of the small faces
Entered but never at the races
What ever became of the five `o` clock heroes
Hopes transformed into a thousand zeros

To hell with feeding the ducks in the park
Thats where i go when the day turns dark
Where i reflect on my hopes and fears
And what lies ahead in the modern years

Two fingers to your rules and your GCSE`S
I`m a boy, i`m a boy with no possibilities
Yes i`m gonna wear all the best clothes
All those young dudes will folow in their droves

Way i see it i aint got nothing to lose
Time to be free, pass me the blues
Nobody sees me because i`m not there
I wanna be noticed but my heads in the air

A french line cut and a smart blue suit
Im ny imagination i`m looking right cute
Kicking at cans down gum stained pavements
Watching the masses earning extortionate rents

Its the dawn of another brand new day
Morning papers as usual got nothing to say
Mother with child in a distressing sanctuary
Starbucks an angel of modern society

Is this what they mean by thats entertainment
Standing in the dole queue, another claimant
Cosmopolitan tales of a modernist boy
Trendy and cool but unable to employ

Its a new era reflection on todays youth
Emotionally crippled generations thats the truth
In my regardless mood i`ll keep on moving
Shiny black loafers and non stop grooving

Tuesday, 19 May 2009


A lazy soul kinders no fire
A busy one burns with desire
The devil inside available for hire
To spark the fuse of a funeral pyre
A candle burns a flicker of life
A marrriage consumed by husband and wife
A lifetime together discord is rife
An outside influence comes to the fore
An obstacle so clear yet hard to ignore
A pathway littered like never before
Somewhere along a key to the door

Monday, 18 May 2009


Where does it come from
What does it do
A red poppy flower
A symbol of hope
A signal of power

What they have done
A massacre ordered
But what have they won
Respect and valour from no one

Sixty years,no lessons learned
And still the young boys
Are sent out to test
The new lethal toys
Those left alive always the best

A pawn to a king
A bow to a queen
Another red reef
A sign of their grief
Poppy power beyond belief

Opium wars with
No time for pause
Another young sacrifice
To justify the cause
The power of the poppy flower

Sunday, 17 May 2009


A sadness does dawn
Of where we are now
This last instalment
Should be published
Alas a sigh
Has come through
Loud and clear
Directly from you
Its poetry required
Tall and stout
This mumbo jumbo
Is making you tired

Dont go just yet
You may as well
Till the bitter end
After all
You were
Here at the start
And it is not
Quite time
For us to part
A tiny bit longer
And it
Will become clear

I cannot create
To supply and demand
But what i can do
Is keep hold of you
Much has been said
About nothing at all
Yet here you still are
So who is the fool
A blush of a face
No need for that
I`ll fall from my perch
Might lose my pen
Would have to begin over again

Enough is enough
I hope you enjoyed
Twelve verses of words
Empty and void
I`ve had the most fun
I ever could have
And now thats it`s over
I feel rather lost
But then there is hope
For all i need do
Is think of something
And write it
For you.


Oh no
I hear you cry
He has returned
That man
Of many words
And little to say
But how
Could i leave
Things as they were
And after all
I have so much to bleet

I now have
A subject
Upon which
To write
I thought
It would come easy
But it
Took me all night
Then in a flash
An inspiration
Was had
I bet your quite glad
Been driving you mad

The topic i chose
Has little
To do
With verse
Or prose
It really concerns
Nothing much more
Than what i`ve
Already said before
The problem i have
Is that i cannot
Recall much at all

Now i`m quite lost
Alone on my log
I must write
Something down soon
Or else i fear
I shall be here
Tomorrow morning
And afternoon
Finally it comes
I know
What to say
The final chapter
Is on its way

Saturday, 16 May 2009


Welcome to
The intriguingly
Understandable publications
Of a somewhat
Shy and uncertain kind
Tests and tribulations
Not born from
Hours or days
Of forced creation
I simply picked
Up my parker
And this
Is what followed

A few short lines
Of verses and facts
And all good intentions
Is what i require
To come to the fore
And nothing cloudy
Can be penned
Writers block
What does it mean
A stump of oak
Where i can sit
And hopefully dream
All day and night

Of something
More appealing
And less revealing
With an oversized theme
Grand or minor
By now
Your attention
should be witheld
What will
This man
Of fair hand
Begin finally
To talk about

Time to be open
And confess
Of my wit
I have
No ideas
About what
I should utter
So i shall say
A fond farewell
This is the end
But certainly not over
Just for now


Friday, 15 May 2009


I am so alone that i came to the
conclusion that i must experiment
with loneliness

A good way to do this i finally
decided was to swap places with
my broom

Surely it seems that a life as
a broom must be more lonely than
being me

I hear you all nod in agreement
at once, but have you actually
stood back and thought

Where does a broom live, under
the stairs, in a shed, in a builders
truck, anywhere at all

Is it even on its own, sometimes
for sure, but mostly the company
it keeps is unique

Mops and paint, theres spades and
twine, bricks and cable and sometimes
even a decorators table

The list above is merely a sample
of things and stuff to keep the
broom company

Then i decide not to be the broom
anymore and i get swept away
in further solitary thoughts


Coconut,coconut,coconut tree
breakfast ,dinner,lunch and tea
what difference

Bamboo hut,canvas tent
golden ripple,cocktail tipple
what difference

The shadow of a tan
a local,a foreign man
what difference

A bikini,a sarong
a swimsuit,a thong
what difference

A million disciples
living out a fantasy
what difference
does it make

Sunshades on ,tan line gone
coconut trees dancing away
what difference

Kingfishers dive,capture thier prize
enchanting in sun drenched eyes
what difference
its all the same

Its all the same in a natural way
what difference
its all the same
coconut tree and sun amd me
what difference

Thursday, 14 May 2009


I stand as tall as a mountain
whilst daylight turns to moonlight
as an angel bathes under a sunshine fountain
she captivates me as if she was starlight

To make her aquaintance is indeed unique
as she cleanses herself in a garden of lace
her radiance and purity are washed in mystique
ten million hearts trapped,in awe of her grace

All those who see her are blessed with delight
entranced by her beauty ,they serenade
this image from heaven,like doves in flight
she is truly magical,especially made

A shadow of colours,that is paradise
a mystical creation from god almighty
sent from above to enchant and entice
she is of course the most beautiful Aphrodite

Wednesday, 13 May 2009


Exams and degrees,a member of high societies
oh really mate but just look at you now
your down on your knees
god only knows how

A modern life a modern way
its how england is today
can you find a better way
a modern life
a modern way
But please dont worry

cos theres no hurry
have some more kids
and the state can pay
while you can just
sit back and decay

A modern life
a modern way
its how england is today
can you find a better way
a modern life
a modern way

Its clear for us all to see
hung out to dry at 43
no future for your family
no more pubs and no more more clubs
no more parties or pick me up drugs
well not unless there free

A modern life a modern way
its how england is today
can you find a better way
a modern life
a modern way

You could always sell your house and see
if you can get something from the state for free
its the way of normality
in your local community

A modern life a modern way
its how england is today
can you find a better way
a modern life
a modern way

Please dont worry
please dont worry
its how england is today
a modern life
a modern way
please dont worry

You can never escape from your destiny
put on a brave face
what will be , will be
call up a mate, call on some fun
but please dont worry

Because this a modern life
this is a modern way
its how our england is today
can you think of a better way
a modern life a modern way
a modern life a modern way

please dont worry
please dont worry
please dont worry

Sunday, 10 May 2009


I only want to be wanted
theres a girl on my screen
shes more than a dream
an image a fantasy
she surely loves me
so much its obscene
shes so very clear
but is she really there
she disappears before my eyes
though i try and try
i cannot hide

i`ll let my feelings speak for me
but when i try and speak
my voice becomes weak
i stay the lonely man that i am
why does it have to be
that my heart is under lock and key
i`ve got more emotion
than the fiercest ocean
tell my why should it seem
that im diving inside
there is no place to hide
why oh why

I only want to be wanted
there she is again
the girl of my dreams
a picture of paradise
a vision of heaven
theres a time and a place
and i can`t seem to keep up
with this angelic face
i only want to be wanted
i cant find the words to say
so i fear a lonely man
i am destined to stay

Why should it beplease set me free
from this pain in my mind
release me
help me unwind
why must it be
that i had to see
that angelic face
that so clearly
was meant to be
i only want to be wanted

Im diving inside
for my love
i cannot hide
what will be
will be
and hopefully

I only want to be wanted
i only want to be wanted


I call on the boards upon which
I walk to give me a forest of
Company these long ebony evenings
The winds that do maketh the
Forest dance shall also bless my
Will and solitude, whispers will
Continue to linger, a language
Alien unto itself, understanding it
Though as i surely do, as Heaven
Opens its unoiled doors, our spirits
Cannot be dampened any more
Than they are drowned in my weeping
Blood. These worn down timbers
Feel the force of no shock, their
Flattened existence long ago
Trampled into the ground, alas
Mornsong do fast approach, the
Voices of the night quickly disperse
With nowt to look back upon
And with little to reproach.

Friday, 8 May 2009


For the next one shall
I know because I decided
Be loved the most truly
No forced emotions involved
Not anymore at least
I know how to love now
Before only a dream
That was harshly shattered
To many shards to count
But now I see so clearly
That the next one will
Be taking the all of me
Of course I know the way
Keep pacing up and down
Bouncing balls not counting
Re-visiting what was
Thoughts of nothing true
Yet that is the answer
To what I think I lost
A spark is ignited
For I have only gained
A knowledge knew to me
Perhaps there was a reason
For living life so blind


Visibility equates to nothing
but harsh vulnerability
some vision that
don`t you think ?

Ok , heres another very
similiar thought , the
soldier that was seen
is the one that the

bullet caught. And how
about the blind , i ponder
no vision there , but also no

real doubt about just
exactly who is the
most vulnerable !

Wednesday, 6 May 2009


Out so late thats its quite
very early,couldnt begin to
explain why, cannot decipher
how I arrived, somebody
somwhere will be
very surprised.

Fisherman walking briskly,
avoiding the cracks, doesn`t
notice me through beer
stained eyes, why do i see
him and even care, because
I`m the one who`s not here.

A brief hint of memory I
remember I had, nothing
substantial or opaque will
come through , seagulls
above are targeting me ,
now i recall, i am a tree.


Here i am , the real me
Versatile , creative

Where was i before
Unsure , unknown

Awoken by forceful reality
Shattering, enlightening

Choices remain openly free
Reminisce, progress


A comment to throw
From destination
Once only imagined
Not even registerted
By the voice
Who created
Led to a bombshell
Gunpowder sown
Already waiting
Ambitionless phrase
Born in paradise
Indian petals
Turned out
Almost exact
In its own way
Thoughts of isolation
With my perfect
Not mutually
Final recognition
Mine excluded
Action stations
Its the only way
Use your emotions
Can only acheive
Not in a resort
Nor in make believe


There were stones, sizeable stones
Of a volume to balance on at least
How many can not be predicted
Enough to construct pathways
A reasonable amount then
Perhaps , but maybe not
Depends on the length
And where it may lead
Tough desicions, easy choices
Jagged rocks, polished stones
Ruin or salvation
Pathways left or right
Light of the day
Dark of the night
Where would you really
Like that to be
Close your eyes
Now you can see.

Friday, 1 May 2009


Hey hey hey , come hither and hear
about a market town, so pretty and clear
a tranquil haven, where poets pose
its anything goes for a man of prose

The woodcarvers son, serves you a beer
raise your glass for its time to cheer
a Welsh filly or an English rose
fulfill your dreams ,dismiss your woes

The place to frequent, for a pint of relief
a house on the corner, they call The Wheatsheaf
a famous line from a certain lord
this is what he once guffawed

"Wine , women , mirth and laughter
its here right now and everyday after
but thats not all ,there is so much more
to taste and sample , and simply adore

The black mountains stand, so proud and sure
soldiers on guard, now and evermore
their treasure laid out down in the Wye Valley
the quaintest version of Tin pan alley

Yiu should get to know every street
like old Samuel Evans on his postmans beat
the famous Black Lion, with its scrumtious fayre
the thursday market and Memorial Square

The woodcarvers daughter, they call her jas
the sparkle , the glitter, the razzmatazz
she lives in Powys and Herefordshire
a testament to her mother,one i hold dear

Alas there is a station no more
they last closed the door in 64
but like the waters that flow along Dilais Brook
you will get there somehow , by hook or by crook

I`ve saved the last for the best of all
the world reknowned `Hay Literary Festival`
they come from near and from afar
for ten days of frolics, strange and bizarre

The town clock is the test of time
a symbol for students of verse and rhyme
so if it appeals its called `Hay-on-Wye`
why why why , dont you give it a try