Monthly Archives: March 2015

Ode to a Well


Oh, Well…
It’s so sad
That you dried up,
Like I did on stage one night;
And your walls crumbled
Like Jericho’s;
And apple crumble does.

Oh, Well…
I know that your bucket has a hole in
And no-one knows how to fix it
Though they try all manner of things
They still fail.

And your rope…
is ropey

Oh, Well…
Never mind.

Quelle Surprise!


’twas on the Monday morning that the-
Oh, I almost forgot, I don’t do that anymore.
Quelle surprise!
That is in the past
As is everything that moves one second back from the present
And the future is coming

Seconds tick by
Like seconds
It is their way
They exist for a far shorter duration than the Mayfly
Eighty-six thousand
To one Mayfly.
Makes you think that in the
Of an eye
Moment has gone

My ‘King Richard the Third’ Sequence

Richard The Third has been in my life for many,many years – I studied him in History and Literature – I wrote a few poems along the way. G:)




On Bosworth Field – (GRS – 22-08-1994)

On Bosworth Field the battle raged,

But treason took an active hand;

William Stanley waded in – the battle gauged –

While fleeing Percy reached his land.

Richard, the king, had lost his friend,

For, ‘Jockey of Norfolk’ was dead.

“Treason”, he cried, as he visioned the end,

“A horse, for my kingdom!”, he said.

Richard was lost, and fell at last,

While bravely fighting the man,

One Henry Tudor, who stood so fast

And watched as ‘his’ reign began.


Richard The Third Interred – (GRS – 12-09-2012)

A thought recently occured

about Richard the Third;

About where he’s interred:

and we have a vocation

to find that location…

location… location the third.

Hark, hark the dogs do bark,

Our King Dickie’s having a lark

hiding all this time under a car park

in the city of Leicester,

where his…

View original post 195 more words

I’m not ready to die

This is beautiful – as is Life G:)


Life, like the seasons, is cyclical;
a circle of growth, life, death and suspension.
Did I mention I’m still growing?
I’m at that mid-point between spring and summer
New buds appear from here and there.
I take care to nourish them; to help them blossom and bloom –
their beauty to share with you… and you.
It won’t be long, and yet too soon, they will wither.
I will drop my guard and fall.
My limbs will start to ache and yet… behold!
Autumnal leaves of red and gold will blanket the forest floor –
crisp for a while; underfoot percussion to our leisurely meanderings
until the rains turn all to molten mush and cold creeps in.
Come! Hither!
Put your arms around me.
Hear how the branches crackle?
How the trunk stiffens; held firm in the shackles of winter?
Blustering winds may rally to tear me apart, but I’m…

View original post 66 more words

How the days can differ


And yet, one day does differ
So much from another;
One week apart in time
But a season also now seems to separate the two
But, a reversal of the journey
From Spring to last Autumn
When sudden showers left me sodden
And now they do again;

No, these are not the falls of Spring
That approaching April promises; but the clammy,
Cold-swamp-inducing drops of a miserable day in November.

And, yes, I still hear the woodland birds tweeting


From their lofty shelters
As they look down upon me in my ‘inappropriate’ trainers.

The breeze is not what we hear today;
A gusting wind that trembles like a thunder;
And, the clouds ‘lower’ as in Shakespeare’s third Richard
Leaving me under no impression
That the Sun will get a look in today.

Roll on the Glorious Summer.

Adlestrop Sequence

From my Hanger Farm Poets site – please enjoy G:)



Hello, just an posting with some of my poetry (and Edward Thomas’) from Hanger Farm Poets this morning. A written copy for those of you there who heard and those who couldn’t make the meeting and so didn’t.

Hope these find you well


A Sequence in homage to Edward Thomas’ Adlestrop


Like a Bullet Train
Through the heart of my country:
Your words travelled at speeds
Beyond my belief.

On the surface, overland
They said one thing;
But, they were saying something
Deeper, darker, underneath.

I felt their bite
As they hurtled through my station;
And, although they failed to stop,
Their passing left me changed,
Like Adlestrop.



You are not really a poet
Unless you’ve been to Adlestrop;
It’s an old, abandoned station,
Where the trains don’t stop;
So, don’t think you’re smart
With your beat-box rhymes
And your new hip-hop;
Because, you are really…

View original post 225 more words

Shattered Prompt


My heart lay broken at my feet; shattered into a million myriad motes. I gazed at the wreckage of my world, and I slumped.

Before now I had been strong; a castle on the landscape; defences in readiness; and with my armies of grit and determination honed to deal with any onslaught.

Now… I was a swamp, a quicksand land where all manner of hopes and ambitions had sunk without discernible traces. No castle stood here; no defences; no armies, nothing.

I held my head down low and scanned my feet; beyond them; to the very core of the Earth; where now dwelt the ‘once had a future’ king of all my realm.

No sound pierced my hearing; no sight passed my view; no aroma tested my taste-buds – I was inert and inactive to the world.

However, the world was still turning (though no longer around me) and if any unseen people were shoring up my fallen walls, clearing strewn debris and rebuilding the foundations of a life for me… well, I would be surprised; very surprised.

Time is a healer; I needed millennia; I had wasted so much of my life that it would never seal the wounds.

But, it would always try.

Have you ever tried to put a shattered mirror back together?


That’s right; you would just wrap the shards in many layers of old newspaper and dispose of the damaged item.

And who would blame anyone for disposing of me and my shattered heart ?

The Weekend Is Here!


The ‘Weekend’ is here;

Saturday, and then Sunday;

Make the most of them.

Not forgetting that

Friday evening also

Is part of the fun.

Friday Flash – Shattered

Feeling shattered? Write about that! G:)

Thursday Thoughts


Thursday, it is;
It was so before;
It shall be again;
The sequence never ends.
Though it probably will…
One day
Possibly, on a Thursday.

Well, that was pretty cheery;
Sets us up for a right song and a dance does that poem.

It may be thought, or said,
That, perhaps, one of us got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning;
I am but pondering upon the day, today
A Thursday;
As poets are wont to do.

That’s as maybe; but, I don’t want some old, outdated, anachronism of a poet telling me it’s going to be Apocalypse Thursday!

I use the poetic devices to show
What may be (IMO)
At the heart of a ‘possible’ Thursday In an unwritten play
Where you and I may not even exist;
Not characters on a Dramatis Personae list.

A lot of tosh and nonsense; that’s all ‘I’ have to say; so, take your quill and parchment; your blotter and your ink;
and leave me here to rest in peace; so I can hear my words to myself think

Good riddance and good day!