Thursday, 1 December 2022

 The Haunted Saucepan

 “You’ll be in the soup 

if you go out in this”

she said,

“it’s a real pea-souper.”

I carried on stirring,

I wasn’t thinking of going out anyway.

I have to keep stirring

or I’ll be in the soup,

that’s what my saucepan says.

And I listen to her

as I peer through the fog


I know 

what a sticky mess she can make

if I don’t obey her.

So I keep on stirring,

hoping that soon 

she’ll let me eat.

I keep on stirring,

hoping that sometime

she’ll let me eat.

 United We Fall

The bodies are piling up 


as past becomes present


A different time,

a different place,

different victims

and survivors


by innocence,

by grief

by failure,


to protect


to police


by the failure

of lawmakers,

of elected 

and electors.




So we cry out,

we victims who survived

you failed us

failed us

failed us.

Even the dead whisper an echo

but only the deaf will hear.

 Talking Book

If my book could speak

I wonder

what it would say to me.

I don’t mean about

the words inside,

I’m reading them 

for myself,

but about it’s life outside

those written words,

its independent life,

its thoughts and dreams,

its own imaginings

that fill its days and nights.

What a conversation we would have!

 Out Of Focus

The evening light was sepia

when I looked upwards

like an old photograph

out of focus

and slightly misty

like an old photograph

of undeveloped technique.

But that was looking upwards.

Down below the sepia darkened

turning brown as primeval mud

in a frightful ancient swamp.

Not a place to bring into focus

not a place to sit 

and contemplate the sepia

of the fading light

with the foreground blackening,

becoming yet more dense

in the fading light

becoming a place to hurry through

not a place to sit 

and contemplate

the changes

of the fading light.

Tuesday, 29 November 2022



It should be the dragon that breathes fire,

that’s him there above the horse,

but he’s quiet and calm 

in tune with the sweet music

quite breathless just now

while in flight



in metamorphosis.

It’s the horse that looks dangerous,

his breath steaming

about to catch


no doubt 

about it

they will surely change places

when their metamorphosis 

is completed

and the music stops.


 Green Dragon


Does the ghost believe what he's seeing

as the green dragon floats by

breathing rainbows

from flower filled puffs of breath.

Would you believe it?

Would I

believe it?

After all,

this is not the usual sort of dragon

whose fire filled breaths register alarm.

But alarm registers, nevertheless,

as this is not the usual sort of dragon

and none of us are sure

what will happen next.

Monday, 28 November 2022


Regrets are best forgotten,

laid to rest in peace or 

in restless confusion.

Dump them with the other debris,

the detritus of the past

no longer needed.

They will be taken away in time, 

disposed of

in the future,

by the future.

Displaced by more things 

to regret

and forget.

And by more things to keep

and remember.