Sunday, 3 May 2015


They look like igloos, these cakes,
affected by global warming.
Sweet... Green...
Too much milk in the icing,
too insipid for pepper
mint - choc -chip.
So many dishes!
Feet stuck to the floor...
I've known quieter velcro,
less effective too.
And here's me,
one step ahead in apron and slippers
till some c**t left the mop out in the rain...

Sunday, 26 April 2015

En Route

Beech trees in the park, not yet copper,
raise a branch to prod the sun,
finger-like ends less arthritic than in winter
still charred.

Down by the crossing, cheery blossom waves
the road ahead clear;
sculptured views past lawns and hedges, potted palms
 take a sudden, sharp descent to the ancient town

Even the stump of the monkey-puzzle tree 
offers no solution
to rust-coated railings, crumbling walls,
shadows sliced long and dark
as the weeds growing up.

Tuesday, 21 April 2015

Escape From the Elephants Nest

I claim pieces of sky for my own,
applaud the shadow 
dancers, contortionists, 
reposition with ease,
limb to limb, limb to wind
moved only by the crack of the whip...
No! The ringmaster is a trickster.
There are no elephants here.

Thursday, 7 August 2014

The Settler's Return

Not before time, they said, as I entered the bar,
a place far removed from those haunts of old, and yet,
even before the miracle poison erased the lines
and loosened my lips enough to declare
20/20 vision so clearly redefined,
I stood with the oaks in their human casket,
elbows embedded like branches, outstretched arms,
a rocket of a pool cue flourish – good crack!

I knew those men,
strangers by day, bonding over beer and trivia;
When did the Berlin wall come down?
and Norma Jean become Marilyn?
And talking of Herbert George,
if I owned a pub, I'd call it The Time Machine,
but not before...

A pint of tequila and two lager and cokes, if you please...

I stuffed my change into the jukebox,
new friends in the corner cackling along,
tossing all ghosts on the table to get up and dance.

Such a lovely place to remember
a vacant face to forget

Enjoy the crack...

(But not before)

Swaying under artificial lights,
I saw a girl
playing footsie with a domino,
wrecking a house of cards -
bottoms up.

Modesty, she said, was a coquettish wine.

I'll stick to my oaks, if you please...

Saturday, 7 June 2014


She had a jammy mouth it seemed,
too made up but in keeping with
that raspberry ruffle of a room,
mirror set at an angle
to reveal a more casual side,
the unmade bed behind her strewn
with boxes,
wallpaper like a pink giraffe -
too many open rolls -
and paint
splattered on the duvet,
job incomplete.
Yet she looked younger somehow
with her untamed, unstraightened hair
teased only by her fingers
for now.

Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Coming of Age

It seems so ridiculous now,
Skip-tripping through town in short summer dresses,
Sunglasses tipped to tease
The thirty-something teen ego swelling
With secrets.

You remember the sweat,
Hair much blonder in summer,
Slick as the latest strawberry gloss
Below your gentleman's belt.
I stretch to strengthen my nest.

Upstairs a flash of heels,
A timely spring,
Creaking less fragile than that of my bones
In winter

We feel the heat rise.