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Best Friends Are Never Boring

The three best friends you'll ever have are ME, MYSELF and I

A triumvirate of eager minds to see where thought can fly.


They deem it rather stupid if you never learn a thing

From the counsel of your elders, or the wisdom books can bring.


So they'll swot unashamedly through tomes of argument

To absorb, discuss and challenge the crux of their intent.


The goal all thr...

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Much is made of the ‘out-of-body’ phenomenon -

that other-worldly experience

that can shift or shaft accepted ideas.

And rightly so: such events deserve our unbiased scrutiny.

Defining the boundaries, or non-boundaries,

of Soul and Mind occupies serious thinkers constantly -

probably uselessly.


I declare that the subject is up for grabs

from anyone who gives it any th...

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Back To Basic Bacteria

a week ago in prime time a BBC telly report:

- increased prevalence of allergies -

- many more cases these days

- children are too clean

- we need to get back to basic good bacteria

- interacting with animals

- mucking about in earth

- more direct exposure -

premise casually brain-stored


last week in a local shop

a bottle full of small glittery pink chunks:


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The Blessed Man

The sun rose bleakly

But the old man said,

“Hail to the morning!

I am not yet dead.


I have music to hear

And words to be read;

Enough in the cupboard

To see me fed.


Through the march of years

Many tears I’ve shed.

And my greatest friends

Have long since fled.


But at close of this day

I may lay my head

Upon the sheets

Of my own warm bed.


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I wish            

                            I could read every book ever written

                            I spoke every language on earth

                            I lived everywhere at once

                            And I could touch every living thing



                            I feel

                            as though I were every living thin...

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Six-fifteen on a Rainy Evening


You turned –

In your nakedness

So beautiful

Trumpets flared

And the forest young mewled.

Earth cracked open

Casting up civilizations.

All Art


On your curving
















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Letters and Chops



If a woman visits a gentleman friend

And finds on his cluttered

Dining table

An open-faced letter

Which she herself wrote many weeks ago

What is she to think?

Is it at his elbow for regular reference

With chops and chutney?

To muse over with a midnight brandy?

Or is it, in fact, simply

Of no more moment

Than yesterday’s stale bread?





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The Single Man

At lunchtime I pop into Tesco’s -

Bad timing for speed

But I need a few things for tea.


There’s a long line at the speedy self-service

And the counters and cashiers are worse

So I fall into last place of baskets only


When I spot a clear counter

With a new cashier!


I move fast

And beat a laden cart to first place.

Hard on my heels darts a young ma...

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The Mirror

Seven years old

He bounds through the front door.

(Super heroes never walk. They run!  They leap!)

Pink safari pants and a new T-shirt: “I’m the GREATEST’.

No argument there.


Friday is Disco Night at the school auditorium

Blaring beat pounding sound


As dusk swallows the familiar.


“Do you dance?”

“Nah. I just play tag.  But it’s fun.”



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As children they grew up together

Bonded by friendship so deep

The passage to love was marked

By effortless consummation.

Their love was godly.

Fate forged shackles with no key.


But families fractured

Communities convulsed

Countries disintegrated.

Upon great tables in small rooms

Politics scissored flags - land - people -

And stitched up new nations.



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war poetry

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