Sunday, 30 April 2023


They emerged from the eggs 

of our snow white Silkies.

Every one a cockerel when grown,

we decided to have one for dinner.

The skin was blue, under the white plumage,

which was quite a shock,

a little alien,

but cooked, it was fine. Normal.

And the flesh was white,

But when carved, the bones were blue.


A little alien.

And now these red feathered birds

have appeared as if from nowhere,

their eggs pink. 

When they hatched and grew,

all were hens,

 their clutches carefully hidden,

each batch of chicks larger than the last.

A little strange,

a little alien.

And then, at last, there were cockerels,

too many and too large. 

We decided to have one for dinner.

The skin was pink under the red plumage

which was quite a shock.

A little alien.

But cooked it was fine. Normal.

And the flesh was white.

But when carved the bones were pink,


more than a little alien.

There are more of them now,

growing ever larger.

I think that soon

the dinner tables will be turned

and they’ll make a meal of us.

 Thunder And Lightning

As a child I loved them,

the light and darkness

at any time of day

or night,

the sky purple with anger,

the lightening flashing

and Roger’s mum 

running up the street

in terror of a thunderstorm,

and seeking to get behind 

the closed doors 

of our house

where she felt safe

with my mom and me


There we would spend the hours

playing Ludo or Monopoly,

Rummy or Newmarket,

the four of us 


in our sanctuary. 

Roger loved them too.


Sadness leaches the colours from life.

Even the bloodied black hole of death

is bleached white.

 Summer Holidays

We all holidayed  in Britain

when I was a child

and no one swam in the seas.

The water was empty beyond it’s edge

even on the warmest of days.

Parents sat in deckchairs closely packed

wearing overcoats for the wind

and a newspaper hat in case of sun.

Paddling was as adventurous as it got.

Nothing wetter was allowed,

nothing wetter was desired

in that cold, cold water.

Affluence and climate change

changed our traditions.

It was the costas for us now

in clothes purpose made 

for playing splash,

for warm water swimming

and stretching out to sun bathe

on closely packed sun loungers.

Then we’re back in Britain.

Sent home by fear

of infection and contamination

carefully keeping our distance

from each other

as we scurry to British beaches

only to be sent home again

as travelling was not allowed

nor was paddling 

even though the sea is warm,

nor was sun bathing,

or beach games

on the warm sands.

Soon we’ll really feel the heat.

We won’t go anywhere then.

 All That Glitter

It glitters

like gold.

But is it


or base


being worked on

by an alchemist..




with a touch

of magic,

with an elixir

of immortality,

an illusion.

Or perhaps

base oil




plastic glitter


all too real





everlasting life,

all that glitter.


In this society

of masks and miasmas

we are allowing ourselves 

to be suffocated

with pillows of power

and prejudice,

hardly hidden,

in the institutions

we thought would protect us all.

We have to do something.

We know we must do something.

So we put on our mask


to protect


We know 

we are all 

George Floyd


later or sooner.

And we know

we are all his killers


later or sooner

behind the mask.

 Midas Touch

The sorcerers and scientists

of past times

experimented with their powders 

dissolved them,

fired them up

in their laboratories.

searching for the glows and gleams

from base metal,

the Midas touch

that would create the riches of gold

for them.

They never found it.

Now, the sorcerers and scientists

have discovered how

to dig deeper,

scrape harder

and stand by while

we dig and scrape for them.

And watch the gold flow,

watch it pour

like magic

making wrinkles and scars

suffocating our skin.

Tuesday, 25 April 2023

 Inappropriately Dressed

I wasn’t dressed for snow,

or clouds,

or wind,

or for walking at all,

if I were honest.

But sometimes

you just have to give it a go

and trudge through the clouds,

kick up the snow in passing,

challenge the wind

with the size

of your hat.

It wouldn’t dare to blow

it away, would it?


you just

have to don

your dark glasses

and stride out to the sun,

regardless of snow, or clouds, or clothes.


you just have to go.

 The Brighter Side

In medieval Europe climate change brought chaos.

The sun forgot to shine

for 20 years

the clouds forgot to leave the sky

so the rain fell

and fell

and fell.

Nothing grew

except death 

and disease

for twenty years.

And then

the sun woke up

and chased the clouds away

but few were left to work the land.

Wages rose.