Garibaldi Square Old men lean to each other gesticulating their opinions, each like a frustrated lover taunted by fretful minions. The shaded seats are gone, as if permanently selected, a citizen assembly that’s won the right to reward its elected. We accept our lot and hunch, back to the piercing sun, pasta… Read More »
Not In the Mood You can’t turn it on and off like a tap, you’re either grabbed by the throat, a rabbit cornered by a hungry stoat, or you’re totally lost without a map. This is the way when a pristine sheet of white paper stares back at you, daring you to commit… Read More »
Bearded Tits Hanging close from the laburnum tree Is a supermarket for birds tame enough To flutter close, make their inspection Of special offers, and if they appeal Peck at the peanuts or spheres of fat. A pair of bearded tits have set up home In the box above our garden table And… Read More »
Which Hat? Usually when I embark on life’s adventures I leave the house hatless and optimistic; Only when it’s shivering cold or raining Above a parsimonious drizzle do I reach For a hat sitting patiently by the door. But which hat is it to be? There are five pegs and six… Read More »
I have ruminated episodically on the trivial issue of whether or not I can claim to be a writer. My provisional conclusion has been that I am an (ex)university teacher primarily, which has of course involved quite a bit of writing, but that I cannot be said to have made my living as a writer.… Read More »
When to Shut Up? Imagine an off-the-cuff conversation With an acquaintance, not a friend, So it’s tricky to gauge the rules. She tells you she prays for her family, For friends, for peace in faraway places. Sceptical, you challenge this faith That prayer can interrupt the flow Of events and act as… Read More »
You Can Feel Uneasy Here we are, sitting in the pub Of a Friday evening, A friendly cluster of garnered chairs, One round in and more to follow; The chatter is split, a couple here, A trio there, some just listening in. Then the topic changes: ‘That Corbyn, thank God he’s gone!’ A… Read More »
Along by the Mole When the rains come and the waters Of the Mole rise up to flood the land There’s an eerie beauty about the place; But the downpours have gone now, And only the squelch of sodden mud Reminds us of the river’s ambition. The weed-edged path we take winds Slowly… Read More »
Rhymes Poems don’t have to rhyme, If you ask me it’s a matter of time: When you’re not really stressing Because nothing is pressing Then, thesaurus to hand, You invariably land, If fatigued and slow On a fitting bon mot. The Aegean A night flight to Rhodes Town, Thence to Lindos… Read More »
The Youth Inside I used to be able to run, Not the shambolic, nattering of feet No longer responsive to commands; But the hungry eating up of ground That left others in my wake, Set my lungs on fire. The youth inside can sprint, But the old man knows better. The head’s… Read More »