the silver birch 

it likes to hide 

so as you search 

at eventide 

you find it there with many friends 

playing poker through the night 

 

the common oak 

a wise old man 

an aging folk 

since time began 

grandfathers of the forest they 

speak myth and folklore when they can 

 

the sycamore 

with helicopter seeds 

sets out its store 

among the weed...

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(with acknowledgements to Cubby Broccoli)

We’ve a new allotment holder

Just retired from MI6

Wears a Beretta on his shoulder

Calls our lady members “chicks”

Drives a silver coloured DB5

He won’t get much in that

When he has to transport compost

From his Docklands penthouse flat

 

He takes his Martini shaken,

In his shed he keeps a score

Of days spent with psych...

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In the grand tradition of poetic rivalries, two ancient Roman masters—Catullus (84 - 54 B.C.) and Martial (40 - 104 A.D.)—turn love, lust, and literary wit into a battle of birds. Catullus mourns the death of his beloved's passer (sparrow) in a tender yet teasingly erotic elegy, while Martial, never one to miss a joke, takes the metaphor and runs with it—boasting that his columba (dove) ...

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These two sharp and cheeky limericks poke fun at Trump’s famously long tie — and what it might be compensating for. They each want to wrap political satire and playful innuendo into five perfect lines.

Trump’s tie hangs down to his thigh, to distract from what’s small — wonder why? He shouts and he brags, but rumour still nags: It’s all just a well-tailored lie. And another:

Tru...

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Alexa, dear, my lifeless friend, Find me joy—before the end! Scan the web, rewrite my fate, Find me friends, I’ll compensate. At work, I toil like some old bot, The boss says “fix it,” I say “what?” Colleagues grin, they steal my lunch, Alexa, purge this wretched bunch! My love life? Ha! A tragic tale, Last date ran—she looked so pale. “You’re funny,” she said, “but sad.” Alexa, ...

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Wee Willie’s agent made the call

Willie wasnae expecting it at all

As in his bed he idly lay

That fateful January day

“Get up Willie, Tam exclaimed

Get oot your bed and leave yer hame

Get on your kilt, your brogues, your hose

And grab your pipes and don your clothes

I’ve had a call from the SRU

The very man they need is you

This is no wind up, it’s the truth

They ...

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Secrets (of a Happy Marriage)

 

I saw a man confronting a tree,

So I asked that fellow to confide in me.

Tell me sir, would you be having a drink?

To which he replied, no its not what you think.

I’ve been talking to trees for half of me life.

I can say things to them I can’t say to me wife!

She was fair and reasonable when we first met.

Now her tongue is so sharp I know ...

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The tree is man-made, the gifts are fake,

The carols make my stomach ache.

I hate the crowds, the forced-up cheer,

The noise that fills this time of year.

 

The sales are loud, the hype is worse,

Everyone's lost in some gift-giving curse.

The cookies? -Too sweet! The songs? -A "bore"!

I’d rather be locked behind my door.

 

So skip the cheer, and ditch the mess,

I’d...

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                                   Shadow Blind

Blindly I fumbled searching for you. Hoping to uncover a despicable ghoul. Confident my endeavor a profound spiritual journey.  

A fearless, deviant, defiant, authority usurper, a warrior in a distopian reality, selflessly fighting ageless expressions of duality for all humanity. An evolved, out of the box thinker, unwilling to participate in a...

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That is no session for old men. The young

With lithe legs and arms stretch like sapling trees

We, flailing generation whose Latin songs

Fail inflamed and arthritic joints to ease

We began at eight, it’s now ten, how long

Before one amongst us succumbs, and dies?

Caught in that sensual music all wrecked

Monuments of years of bad neglect

 

 

An agèd man is but a tragic ...

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This  limerick wants to be a humorous reminder to brush off the negativity and unsolicited opinions that others throw your way. "There’s a way past the arse and down the back" is a metaphor for letting criticism slide right off you, without letting it stick! In a world full of judgments, it’s a reminder that the only opinion that truly matters is your own. Let it slide and keep moving forward!

...

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This limerick plays with the idea that expertise isn’t always the key to success. After all, the ark was built by an amateur, and yet it survived, while the Titanic—crafted by professionals—met its doom. With a humorous twist, it reminds us not to despair at being an amateur, as even the experts can falter in the face of fate. The lesson? Sometimes it’s the passion and drive, not the credentials, ...

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In a world where you can't escape judgment, this limerick tries to dive deep into the absurdity of trying to please everyone. Even if you perform the impossible—like walking on water—someone will still find fault, questioning your intelligence and abilities. With a touch of irony, this piece wants to highlight  the endless nature of criticism and the futility of seeking universal approval. It’s th...

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On The Village Outer fringes

Lives the legend Rocketman

If it burns, explodes or singes

Pyrotechnically, he’s your man

His potting shed’s a bomb store 

He goes there when he chooses

To stack the shelves and fill the floor

with gunpowder and fuses

 

He plans every Guy Fawkes night

By astrophysics and geography 

Filling the sky with sound and light

And aerial chor...

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Get yourself a lump of marble

Twenty feet by six by six

Borrow a set of chisels

Or buy them from Screwfix

 

Empty out your garage or outdoor store

Of furniture and kids’ bikes from ceiling to floor

Grab yourself a mallet

Michelangelo liked wood

And get stuck in whilst listening to Johnnie B Goode

 

With every blow you will release

The body shape within

From a...

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Just because you can play it doesn’t mean you should

I’m talking about After the Goldrush or Before the Flood

or anything by The Eagles, Paul Simon and Stormzy

Keep these artists separate from your ukulele

 

Just because you know the words don’t mean you can sing

Paul Rogers is Bad Company, leave Fields of Gold to Sting

Give Roy Orbison numbers a miss

Don’t kid yourself you...

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When Lee Dixon opens his cliche cabinet,

We’re havin' it.

 

It was a game of two halves

The lad’s put in a shift

You couldn’t write this script, that’s a gift

Get in there my son, go on my boy

The phrases flow, sucked of joy

 

He pulls rabbits from hats

With consummate ease

He’s a mangled mouthed magician

Can’t you see?

 

His left foot’s just for standing ...

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In this dungeon, dreary and rank
With surgeons tools, hooks and saws
And bits of animals, teeth and claws
A slab of old marble covered in blood
With needle and thread to sew if I could

In this dungeon,  dark and dank
With power and coils and much electricity
I'll strive to create life in my eccentricity
Limbs put together not quite in place
The brain is quite small, I've left too much s...

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Friday at last, speed home from work
The flights tomorrow, few drinks a perk
It's that time, hurray! it's come round at last
But now i'll have to pack and make it fast
I'll pull the cases from the loft space
Unzipped and clean, put ready in place
I open the drawers and tip out all the clothes
Where's my favorite T shirt, God only knows
Three shirts, a tie! A jacket quite light
Not w...

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I’ve got my eye on a bungalow

now I’m ageing fast and living slow

not much to do, nowhere to go

A remote-controlled garage door

An en-suite on the ground floor

These are the things I’m looking for

My rosy afterglow

 

I’ve got my eye on a bungalow

Where I can unwind, go with the flow

Touch the roof it’s only low

A resin drive that’s easy to clean

No moss, no weed...

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Two stones banged together 
To create a misplaced spark
Forget about the weather
Never mind the dark
Harnessing that fire
Gave Neanderthals a thrill
They could build a funeral pyre
And keep out the Ice Age chill

Down countless generations 
The flame remained intact
As in various locations 
Wood was splintered, split and stacked
By Maasai on the Kenyan Plains
In Uluru’s mystic glow
...

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Teetering on the platter

A treat for human senses

It’s food to make you fatter

Crushing all of your defences

 

Its snowy dunes and hollows

Of flouncy sweet meringue

Are made for ample swallows

Of dessert sturm und drang

 

Ignore it at your peril

Its appeal you can’t deny

When hunger makes you feral

Reach for lemon meringue pie

 

Its gaudy citrus layer

...

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In a castle on a promontory above a rocky cliff

As the sun sinks down the poets come to carouse and rhyme and riff

Chaucer riding on a dappled horse escorts the Wife of Bath

Johnny Clark smokes with Betjeman who complains about the staff

Shakespeare’s musing in the corner

Working out an obstinate sonnet

Emily Dickinson hides shyly in her cloak and starched white bonnet

Donne, ...

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The bike are riding two by two 

Hurrah hurrah 

The bikes are riding two by two 

Hurrah hurrah 

The bikes are riding two by two 

It’s the Highway Code, but I own the road 

So Ill just keep driving on 

 

The bikes are now riding three by three 

Oh shite oh shite 

The bikes are now riding three by three 

Oh shite oh shite 

The bikes are riding three by three

As ...

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The greatest trick the devil ever pulled 

Is making the world believe he doesn’t  exist 

 

I don’t know why but I don’t agree 

Let me explain I have an idea you see 

Conspiracy theories is fuel for his flames 

Brexit, traffic jams and gossip entertain… 

His hoards and minions cheer and go wild 

All waiting for the day that Johnson’s defiled 

With a rod up his buttocks fo...

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The trick of the cup and ball 

Starts with a vanish and reappearance

From oranges, lemons and even a baseball

Teleport to a cup, that the audience cheer 

The magicians face says it all 

No wonder magic is a great career 

 

But instead of stopping he continues the act 

As he is now handcuffed, bound and strapped.

He repeats the words that makes himself... vanish once more...

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Wonka land 

 

Have you seen the land of chocolate 

Just £35 from your own wallet 

Promises of wonkas factory delight

But actually it’s a cooperate warehouse of shite 

Ompa lumpars are large not tiny 

I look and stare and think christ almighty. 

 

Is it not Wonkaland? but another place 

As I think of an excuse to this disgrace

Willy Wonkas now here and he’s complete...

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Skeletons Tell Terrible Jokes

 

Zombies shuffled aimlessly with heads tipped to one side

The phantoms rattled chains and flung transparent cloaks out wide

The vampires swooped theatrically as they are wont to do

And ghoulish forms materialised in pools of dipping goo

 

“Wait everyone,” the skeleton interrupted, “I’ve got a joke

 

Spectres paled spectacularly, their colou...

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If dogs were made world leaders

There would be no futile wars

And laws and treaties would be signed

With inky prints of paws

 

Chihuahuas and Alsatians

Would respect each other’s space

There’d be no United Nations

Just a favourite sniffing place

 

Summit sessions would be held

In playing fields or parks

With flashing collars de rigeur

For meetings after dar...

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This is for my dear sister Carole, whom we lost on Monday. She was a member of a very traditional and, dare I say it, quite mysoginistic suburban tennis and bowling club. She played neither, but was by far the best actor in the amateur dramatics section, which sadly folded years ago. She was a brilliant and inspirational primary school teacher, who loved telling stories, especially in verse. She a...

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The invitation came from an anonymous source

With a hint of menace in a note of force

A resolution has been passed

By our High Command

For festive entertainment we want your band

This is not optional, there’s no way out 

We’re ready and waiting so don’t hang about

Be at the Village Hall on the Thirteenth of December

And prepare to deliver an event to remember

There’ll be...

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There’s a shoot-out on the bowling green

The pianola’s full of holes

The Man with No Name’s

Got a Zimmer frame 

And a tray of sausage rolls

He’s a High Plains drifter 

Not from round here

The strong and silent type

Got a dance partner, can’t lift her

They practice moves on Skype

At the monthly hoedown 

At the nursing home 

He wears a felt ten-gallon hat

It’s ...

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It is our extreme pleasure

To cast open our doors for you

And present for your lifestyle and leisure

The incomparable Urinal View

Imagine yourself on summer days

On your balcony facing the strand

Absorbing ultraviolet rays

Where the lavatories stand

Twenty-two exclusive apartments

Designed for the fortunate few

With an open Northerly aspect

Overhanging the public l...

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When all around is crumbling

And there’s nothing left to save

And the economy is tumbling

It’s time to call for Dave

 

He’s super and he’s Tory

His haircut is so smart

He would be great on Jackanory

He just looks and sounds the part

 

He once called a referendum

That left us lonely and bereft

Wrote a memoir, an addendum

To a career lacking heft

 

He sat...

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Their love on the allotment bloomed in early Spring

This was a lasting passion, no fleeting seasonal fling

The seeds of it were scattered in an afternoon of planting

Which concluded in Myfanwy’s shed with groans and furtive panting

 

While Carwyn sowed his sunflower seeds she tended to his plums

They shared a packet of McVities best, nibbling on the crumbs

When Spring turned i...

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Neighbour’s got a new hot tub

Cost six grand from B and Q

It came with white robes, a fridge and a sub

They’re for the chosen few

 

Neighbour’s got a new hot tub

It completely fills his deck

It’s superior to a back rub

And it’s sorted out his neck

 

It’s both rigid and inflatable

With blue lights in LED

It’s necessity’s debatable 

It’s an al fresco luxury

...

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The last time I had made his acquaintance was in New York

His Mountains at Saint-Rémy hangs resplendent in The Guggenheim

And I was entranced coming face to face with Vincent’s art

in frame

Vividly he depicted his visions of the world, so full of passion and energy

The memory stayed with me…

Finding a bust of Vincent in Ramsgate felt peculiarly odd

He lived in Spencer Square a...

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I wrote this for a Guy Fawkes Night poetry event back in 2013 (yes, such a thing actually happened!)I wrote this for a Guy Fawkes Night poetry event back in 2013 (yes, such a thing actually happened!)

Remember, Remember…the what of November?
Was sure there was something…try to remember
Dates in a diary, reminders of significance
Sure there was something...just think perchance
Perchance to t...

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There’s a Viking Warrior around the back

With a multi-tool and a Power Pack

Keeps nuts and bolts in a padlocked sack

He’s a DIY Man, he’s building a shack

 

With his manic ScrewFix lust

He’ll transform that hedge into dust

It makes no odds, he’s not fussed

He’s a DIY Man, born to rust

 

He wears a John Deere branded shirt

Recharges himself when he feels inert

Wa...

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On the Grand Canal in Venice

where bridges span and sigh

There’s a rising sense of menace

Here comes the W.I.

 

They’re oblivious to the sandbags

Stacked against an inundation

As they wield their leather handbags

And march in tight formation

 

At the head of them is Norah

The bravest and the best 

The other girls adore her

In their phalanx, ten abreast

 

...

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There’s a Kangaroo at the barbecue

She’s not supposed to be here

There’s a kangaroo at the barbecue

Snaffling snags and necking beer

She just hopped off with a chicken thigh

That thigh has never been so high

It was a bit of a shock, I’m not gonna lie

 

She’s a chargrill kleptomaniac

A high flying ‘roo with a view

Get Superman, call Brainiac

She’s bit off more than ...

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I’ve got a big spot on the top of my head

It came from nowhere and just grew and grew

I’m not happy about it

But I might as well admit

I’ve got a big spot on the top of my head.

 

The next day that big spot was still there

I gave it a squeeze and some gunk came out

I slapped on some cream then I slapped on some more

I’ve still got a big spot on my head

But now it’s qu...

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Just three little questions my dear friends,

I hope you can lend a hand,

Each scenario happened today,

And I still don’t quite understand.

 

If the square of the hypotenuse,

Is the sum of squares on either side,

How do you get an Articulated lorry,

Through a gate just 10 feet wide.

 

The calculated arc of a cannonball,

Hits square the castle wall, not the moat,

...

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She bit into the green apple with perfect white teeth.

Is her hair really that shade of red? I suspend disbelief.

Smartly dressed she stands, all the world her stage.

Happily serving anyone coffee she earns her wage.

She sees all life going on, smilingly serving drinks all day.

She must have heard it all, chatted up in every possible way.

Managing to look like the coffees she sel...

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To celebrate that I have completed posting the sequence of almost a hundred meditations (thanks to everyone for all likes and comments on those), and also in honour of it being World Poetry Day today (thanks to Dean Fraser for the reminder) - I thought I'd post this little something.... 

 

I've got a poem that gets stuck in your head
stuck in your head, stuck in your head
I've got a poem t...

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A tribute to Wallasey born astronomer Heather Couper (1949-2020) and her passion for life

 

1986 Halley’s Comet payed its orbital visit

On the clearest, darkest night

Looking skyward with naked eyes

Comet and tail obvious against the stars

Media covered the historic occasion

The Sky at Night had a special guest

Heather Couper stood outside

Enthusiasm infectious

Findi...

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The place is Birkdale during the British Open Golf, and a case of mistaken identity back in the late 1980’s, as related to me many years later by a friend

 

Seve, he’s my favourite golfer

I recognise him from TV

Look, it must be him

 

He’s going into that supermarket

Let’s follow to be sure

For certain, it must be him

 

Be discrete, play it cool

Keep our distance

...

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Apologies, in advance, for the rude words !

 

Folk who pee in public places (treating them as ‘loos’).

‘Concert-girls’, on partners’ shoulders, blocking others’ views.

Kids that kick your airplane seat whilst parents just ignore.

Gits who queue-jump at the bar -‘though you were there before.

 

Those who walk straight past you, without thanks .... or smiles.... or nods.

...

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”You can’t put old heads on young shoulders!”, they say. 

But I think that I may have ‘come-up’ with a way, 

involving some sawing - and stitching - and glue 

(and a bit of a ‘heads-up’, in just what to do!).  

 

But, if I decided to give it a ‘bash’, 

that would leave a spare head and a body (to stash)! 

Which seems such a waste of a woman or man.

So, now I’ve develop...

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So, now those ‘Man-Size’ tissues

are named ‘Extra-Large’ instead. 

It’s another “sexist” issue 

that is messing with me ‘ead!  

 

It seems, the major problem 

is all centred around ‘Man’. 

Folk find this word offensive 

but I’m ‘flummoxed’ if I can !

 

I’m fearing for the future 

if this nonsense carries on. 

‘Cos they’ll ban the ‘Man’ from everything

 in fav...

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