January 31st (I Think!)

wouldn’t you think
in this day and age
with all our technology
knowledge and monery
that we could make
each and every month
the exact same length?

and don’t quote me that
days of the month hath
this and that whatnottery
it’s no use to a brain
that’s a veritable sieve
and can’t remember one day
from anothery




birds, bees, badgers and trees

the mistlethrush trees
line the fields
are poplar
with the birds and bees

and badgers steel
the nuts and seeds
that fell from feeders
in the breeze

rowan, ash and hazel three
are coloured like a potpourri
with berries, acorns, witches wands
the magic spells of woodland songs

in turn

dead mouse on the path
your tiny soul dearly departed
but to who knows where?

to a place without predators I hope
where seeds and sunshine are plentiful
and the sound of human voices cannot be heard

there I hope to find you
when my turn comes around

Wasted Words

when you delete your poetry
it ends up breaking down into micropoetry
which in turn breaks down into waste words & letters
that pollute the literary environment

so remember please
every word is sacred
even in haiku

and broken words can be fixed
like people having breakdowns



we can remember
lest we forget
and how could we forget?
but in all the looking back
we forget to look forward
or even take sideways glances
and it’s oh so easy to turn a blind eye
to all that goes on in faraway places
for there are many today
who are too readily forgotten
let’s not forget them either


minute by minute

I paint brushstrokes on a grey sky
and sit and wait for a while
you never know what might fly by
minute by minute by avian mile

believe me, they do not deceive my eyes
these airborne birdies so versatile
in flight so gracious up on high
minute by minute my widening smile







for RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch 27th – 29th January 2018


The Lizard Queen

in the compost loo
amongst the poo
shone a shiny thing
an engagement ring
but how it got there
was the strangest affair
for I had swallowed it whole
to save my soul
from the woman of my dreams
who was not what she seemed
once she’d peeled off her skin
to reveal the lizard within
a vengeful coquette
with a strange silhouette
she slithered away
in the cold dying day

The King is Dead

my mother came screaming from out the kitchen
her eyes ablaze with the flames of tumbleweeds on fire
right down the steps she ran with open arms outstretched to me
the familiar smell of hairspray mixed with chillies and sweat
television news flashes flickered wildly through the blinds

I was seventeen years old as I stood witness in that dusty yard
the sunset a burning ball balanced on the mountain ridge
we live in a crater that sucks moisture from beneath the skin
spend too long out here and your brain will boil
our trailer is a white billboard advertising local poverty

seemed the devil had gotten inside and taken hold of her mind
she shook and shaked like a rattler cornered in a ditch
slowly her hands ebbed away down the length of my dungarees
her blazing eyes dampened as the heat within subsided
she lay shivering on the ground at my bare Baptist feet

my birthday ice cream melting over my hand in astonishment
she lay there clutching her heart that had busted apart
Nevada was a cruel motherfucker whore she once said
Vegas its jumpsuited rhinestone bedazzled pimp
but each day she drove into that city of music and sin

she worked the showroom of The International Hotel & Casino
showed customers to their seats with her little pink torch
and never did she miss a single Elvis show in seven years
that’s eight hundred and thirty seven Elvis shows
no wonder she grew so attached to the King

I bent down and stroked her hair with the familiar smell
but something had already died behind her tumbleweed eyes
then the words blew from out across the darkening desert
“Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?”

lyrics in italics by Lou Handman & Roy Turk