Sunday, 27 December 2015


Ferdy is so wild — a Victorian fox,
We've had him quite some years;
Every bit as ferocious as he looks,
He's still of boundless cheer. 

Wednesday, 23 December 2015

The Eve of Christmas Eve

On the eve of Christmas Eve
Twenty-one years today;
In dense fog we did leave
And set off for the bay.

Farewell toxic town
Now turned brown;
Goodbye half my life.
I take with me a wife.

But leave all else behind.

Heavy mist still kept us blind
When we reached the place
Where beach and sea laced
Our view until the next day

When all things special we did find.


Thursday, 10 December 2015

The Pianoforte

The Pianoforte

What can I say
About A A
Other than he
Could play
Every day!

The pianoforte
Was his way
To be 

He'd have been
Had I seen
Him play
On the pianoforte.

Friday, 13 November 2015



That long ago Friday of Easter 1973,
We ascended the summit in white;
Reaching out, to purify and be free
Of all malice, and of all spite.

Yet our adversary came not
At the agreed and allotted hour.
Had the boastful one forgot?
— Or had he begun to cower?

They say he feared the song
And dance the assembled throng
Might make should they see
Our demon-possessed adversary.

But he came nowhere near;
Preferring to freeze;
Whilst candles and incense
Wafted in the breeze.

In his absence our words
Of ancient exorcism filled
The moonlit air like swords,
— Until the gloom was stilled.

Saturday, 31 October 2015

One Shade The More

One shade the more,
One companion the less;
A multitudinous mirror
Of reflected memory.

In perpetuity to store
One more face;
To recognise, to refer
In the album chronology.

A silent flitting shadow
Finds the darkened crack
In the mirror of the mind;
Stirring nostalgically.

Leaves disturbed anew
Fail to bring back
The light and sound

People once bound.
No longer found;
No longer around;

A glance of shades;
Fading friends;
Greying grades
Of ignorance.

Ivy clinging stone
Informs the shade
The more alone
That there be laid:

In innocence;
In transience;
In abeyance;
In absence.

Thursday, 15 October 2015

Wooden Memorials

Now wooden seat replaces stone,
And brass plaque replaces bone,
While somewhere smoke billows
From a chapel amid the willows.

Folk go up in smoke instead
Of being gently put to bed
In kindly earth where trees
Once surrounded to please

In seas of stone tombstones
Amid quiet where 'phone
Is neither seen nor heard -
Just the trill of a trim bird.

Ah, but that is yesterday
When memories grey
Were stone and bone
And death was not alone

But comfortably asleep
With others to keep
Away the outside world
While memories unfurl.

Made of wood and brass,
The new graves, alas,
Contain not bones of yore,
But someone's posterior.

What strange sort of folk
Prefer to go up in smoke
And replace cemeteries
With wooden benches?

Not me, that's for sure;
Where I'm heading for
Is made of solid stone,
And I shall not be alone!