London. Is it worth it?

A climb up Kili Only it’s Archway Hill. Destination: Highgate King prawns in chilli butter at Café Rouge – — At the end of last year I was searching for this poem amongst my papers. Although distressed at the loss of the original gem (Where is it? I kept asking on Twitter.), I attempted anContinue reading “London. Is it worth it?”

Another Tube Poem: Tunnel Days

They who serve the suction of daybreak, beneath the earth, beneath the dew, beneath the kitchens where there’s burning toast and grapefruit, bury, with the morning light, their hope of hearing birdsong. — My commuting is less than a tenth of many who live and work in London. But when I am on the move,Continue reading “Another Tube Poem: Tunnel Days”

Near Liverpool Street under scaffolding

What do you believe? I believe to see truth lived quietly and consistently is powerful. My father died like that. In trees we find tall truths deeper rooted than human folly. I believe in stakes that make us choose a path right, or left or denial. Denial comes back to haunt us in choice, again.Continue reading “Near Liverpool Street under scaffolding”

Tube sketch (one of a few)

The man with the notebook draws attention. The woman alongside hum drops her Evening Standard to glance. Left-handed he is writing with a ballpoint in a Moleskine, A5-sized. Two page turners across from each other. — The poems this week centre around London and the ordinary, daily observations living in this metropolis offers. Our firstContinue reading “Tube sketch (one of a few)”

A New Room

Yonder far o’er vale and glen whereto grooms return and bread is leaven. This is another country. Today, outside, is a new room in which five builders, tiered upon scaffolding, cannot hear All Blues. This is no time for saxophone wails. Stand at the window and look out on the fresh planks. The backdrop: baredContinue reading “A New Room”

Without realising it, the postman leaves a poem

Something for you –   heads the blue card   This something is it a poem? a sonnet, a verse, an enveloped ode?   Your item is   a parcel. It could not be delivered. No-one was at home on this date 14. Dec at this time 1pm   for the verse? No the itemContinue reading “Without realising it, the postman leaves a poem”

Stuck

Lento con agitato, for 10 minutes to to to tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow too morrow to to morrow tomorrow row tomorrow morrow tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow After the stroke Aunt Edie struggled with tomorrow and words. We performed patience with wrapped chrysanthemums for twenty minutes each week. She lay tied up in tubes. — In much printedContinue reading “Stuck”

Genuine

When it is from deep inside and through my eyes, that crinkled nose – my truest smile. — For some time I was a regular attendee of a writing group. I often presented very short poems (some of which were to feature in ‘Shining in Brightness‘, my first volume and others which are earmarked forContinue reading “Genuine”