Today we move the clocks forward. A superficial act that makes us feel that we can control time. March is blowing itself out, stripping the pristine petals of the Great White Cherry, which lodge like snow on the village green. How much we anticipate that brief …
CLICK ON THE ARROW ABOVE TO HEAR THIS POEM Like all before me I now know how we leave. The hawsers that link us to this life are slipped, some cast before we feel that leaving’s underway. We learn with a jolt, when the first …
CLICK ON THE ARROW ABOVE TO HEAR THIS POEM It has taken time to realise that these small changes are incremental signals of approaching decline, not terrifying, just inevitable and not to be ignored. The precursor was cancer, so discrete it was almost secret, but careful doses of …
Westleton Walks, the name might entice to a tranche of land in the Suffolk Sandlings, where villagers once herded their sheep . Thousands of browsers trimmed low vegetation and modelled the flanks of the Mumberry Hills. Soft gentle slopes pointed down to the sea in …
To leave in a complete transformation of what you have been turning functional to the exotic, a triumphant defiance that effortlessly draws passing admiration yet signals end. In my Autumn will I shed all that is me so elegantly
Lifting with one lazy stroke from stunted blackthorn you glide in the silence over sedge then almost brush the rustling carpet of dry reed’s autumn seed heads. Your mate follows, on a higher flight path alert for any movement your passage startles. Your cruel dispossession is fully …
Powerful water currents lured my mother particularly those sucking at the harbour wall, but she never spoke of her real fear, wouldn’t use its common name — even when it took her. Aging doesn’t teach us courage, we just lie. When you mention another change in how …
Nothing really prepares us for old age, it’s a mystery kept from the young, to prevent their discouragement. Like an ebb tide after a full moon life starts to slip from its highpoint and flotsam begins to show. Expectation has proven false; that age rewards with …
In response to a call for poems on the theme of ‘Hope’, I have written this poem. Hope is such an integral part of our existence and it has been roughly abused by the accepted increase in selfishness. YOU CAN LISTEN TO THIS POEM BY CLICKING ON THE …
Towards the end stage of my long life I am astounded by events of recent years and find it difficult to recognise the society I grew up in. CLICK ON THE ARROW BUTTON ABOVE TO HEAR THIS POEM When did we abandon constructive criticism and evaluation? When did …
PLEASE CLICK ON THE ARROW ABOVE TO HEAR THIS POEM I never went to university — dropped out took an apprenticeship at the sugar factory — had all the tricks played on me, sent to the stores for a long weight, had my raincoat rivetted to a girder, …
This poem came out of a poetry workshop today. The writing objective was to do something for somebody and my wife’s request, last night, for a ‘good sized gin and tonic‘ came to mind. Please click on the arrow button above to hear this poem Let …
Nearly sixty years ago I loved the black humour that the skilled maintenance fitters used on their apprentices. Never forgotten! Please click on the arrow button above to hear this poem After months of continual and heavy use the pulp drier needed major repair. …
Have you sensed that sweet sadness? TO HEAR THIS POEM, CLICK ON THE ARROW ABOVE. You will recognise the peripheral moment — that sense of achievement and fear as the need for your actions fade. For me it was unexpected. At a family member’s funeral, I …
No need to think about difficult issues, our glorious leaders will do that for us. CLICK ON THE ARROW BUTTON ABOVE TO HEAR THIS POEM Forget advance planning, just jump and react – we will win with short slogans, not thought. Let them wait for the …
During the first long lockdown a sense of lack of control continued to increase, but some people made an effort and the decisive decisions. CLICK ON THE ARROW BUTTON ABOVE TO HEAR THIS POEM Random information arrives electronically short bursts of images and speech aimless contact with the …
Do we realise how much we owe to water? Do we know that we are mostly made of water?
Click on the arrow button above to hear this poem The full moon rose as we left the heath from the teasing chirrs of nightjars to make our way to Dunwich beach, drawn by lazy sounds of tired sea sighs drowned by our trodden crunch of pebbles. The shoreline …
Have you noticed silence seems to slow time?
Time is a constant you might reply, but
it is measurably quicker on mountain peaks,
gravity slows time’s flow when on the beach.
Listen, it’s the silence of my childhood —
imposed by the virus from a distant bat,
as I am shielded from its touch.
