Poet, playwright, director and lover of words
This is another poem from 'Sky Trees'. The rush to squeeze in writing and blog today made me think it a good choice. Poem at my Kitchen Table In the corners of the day before work starts and the mortgage interest is paid; then later, after I come home to the margins of the room,… Continue reading Poem at my Kitchen Table
It felt like spring today, so I am posting a poem from my collection 'Sky Trees' Morning Blossom Morning stars retreat, nudged aside by the sun. A child stumbles on cracked stones, followed by suited man and buggy. Cars speed past whilst a boy, tie-less, inches to school. The hill is ascended by one, three,… Continue reading Morning Blossom
To write or not to right (pun intended!) West End Lane, West Hampstead (Draft Four) The pram comes into view, two heads, huge eyes, one baby sits, sister-toddler stands, facing her. I must say hello. One head twirls then returns, bear fitted in the small hand. "They are so cute". The mother smiles. "One, two,… Continue reading Drafting a poem-
🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻 Perambulation on West End Lane Red pram comes into view, rainbow hats, blue eyes, seated infant, sister-toddler stands. One child unfurls to me, hug-snug bear in hand. I must say hello. "They are so cute". The mother smiles. "One, two, three", I count, finishing at a lifelike doll untidy on the pram shelf. "Oh… Continue reading Perambulation on West End Lane
Garden bulbs wait for promised spring,still deep earth. I ring the bell.You open the door, red braceswide smile, peppered chin, you lead me in.'Would you like a cup of tea?'Yes please'I only have soya milk'That's fineYour sitting-room is as it's always been;Aladdin's Cave of books, russet and green.Sofa cushions lean into our conversation.You bring a… Continue reading Dennis
(for refugees at the Polish Border)Let me pass my friendcolour of berries is bloodsnow and soil unite.
From my 2017 collection. The war in Ukraine forces me to remember that we seem doomed to repeat the same tragedies again and again. Sky Trees There are trees that are older than you or I shall be, their roots hold secrets of the soil. He pointed his plane, locked onto another and shot it… Continue reading Sky Trees
We have forgotten stories winter told-cherry blossom whispers lies.
Rushing in, I'm a volunteer, I'm late. Coat off, 'Hellos' and 'Happy New Years'. Hat and Scarf is laid on a box of forms, a young woman waits for direction. The table is stacked with tests, crush of information leaflets. Swab in nose, six drops, two on the window, watched as the liquid rose. I… Continue reading Gateway Centre
I lost the first blush of morning, plane trees naked on West End Lane waiting for footsteps, cars and buses. Salted air, toddlers in knitted hats, drainpipe jeans and tethered gloves; conversation chirrups on. The last blush came and left, a blackbird creeps into his nest; the city sighs and turns to night. The moon,… Continue reading Fortune Green
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