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A bowler's lament

1976, that summer’s heat making light work of my shoddy whites.

Sweat beads slip from my crown, wiped from my brow,

They run the bails of my fingers, to where a rubicund sphere sits.

As a boy, it held no mystery, taught me no lessons,

It told no lies, held no surprise, a simple ball to my eyes.

And I, a player in its game, out in the field, making up the numbers.

That cri...

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NaPoWriMo 2021cricketschooldaysimperialismBLM

A Day for Gratitude (and Greed)

In a hushed and reverent tone
he asked us to bow our heads
in gratitude for those who sacrificed
so much for our prosperity.

We took a moment to remember
those who lost their lives and
their land to the invaders
euphemistically known as settlers.

We whispered muted prayers
of thanks to those who lost
their lives and liberty to traders
paradoxically called masters.

We mumbled appr...

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imperialismnative americanslaverythanksgiving


I wrote this two years ago, long before the Windrush scandal hit the headlines.


When them set sail on Empire Windrush

Them leave behind sun, sea and sand

Yes, them set forth upon Windrush,

Them a tropical collection of hands,

When all them set foot on Windrush;

Next stop, the promised Motherland


So, them all on board Empire Windrush

All four hundred and ninety-two...

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