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Most beautiful dragonfly you ever did see.

Descends to land upon my left knee.

We looked one another deep in the eye.

Then with a wink, it flew away into the sky.

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Programme Accepted

Our brains


For better

Or all too often worse

What we listen to

What we watch

On television

Or the internet

With false words

False images

There was a time

Way back when

All our experiences


Were real

Actual happenings

In our lives

Not any more

Other people’s words

Other people’s pictures

Fed directly into us


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poetryphilosophyfreedomreal life

Finding Van Gogh In Ramsgate

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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Every Day A Celebration

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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Again, The Moon Full

It was a clear night as the Moon looked down with apathy upon the dwellers on the city
Going about their important tasks with intense intent, feeling a sense of inner pity
Meaningful and yet oh so meaningless, trying to make sense of it all
Fit everything into the quantum soup, existence in this urban sprawl
Such strange ingredients to work with. Moon, what say you?
Do those lost souls floati...

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treenatureurbanisationsave forestswilderness

Improvise. Plagiarise?

Looking for some poem to plagiarise

Pretend I made it up before your eyes

Got to be profound with deepest meaning

Tell you that it all came through dreaming

Or through transcendental meditation

Perhaps even via drugs or medication

Still I cannot seem to find rhyme or reason

Is adapting one of my own poems treason?

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Hop Picking And Love

Desperate poverty in The East End of London all too true

Ten-year-old Alice never complained, what good would it do?

She had reached the age to travel with her family to Kent.

Leaving behind the dirt and smog, their struggle to pay rent

Hop picking in 1920 the children did their share of grafting

Alice loved the clean air, the food, the banter and chatting

She fell in love with K...

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