Here is a small selection of my poetry

I write in various verse forms on a wide range of topics;

Local, national, personal

Mundane, metaphysical, risqué

*

Audio…

https://youtu.be/JYrFGF1bvGs

 

Old rhymes from previous years…

Choosing Choice 

The Devizes Neighbourhood Plan referendum

at the Town Hall on Thursday 17^th September

…

My alarm clock shouts at me with noisy voice

“Wake up!  It’s Thursday and you have a choice!”

Of what to have for breakfast, eggs or bran

And of voting or not voting on the Plan

I’m not that sure quite what it’s all about

Perhaps I’ll go online and check it out

The library know their stuff, they’re pretty fair

Could ask at the Town Hall, there’s people there

That funny poet woman says “Vote Yes”

Or otherwise the town will be a mess

Without a Plan we just won’t have a clue

Of what outside developers will do

But other folk are saying “No! Vote No!”

I’m so confused about which way to go

If I don’t vote I haven’t had a say

It’s only a few moments from my day

I’m going to go to town now and the Market

Could take the car but it’s a job to park it

Might take my bike or simply take a walk

And wander round and meet some friends and talk

I wonder what they think, I’ll ask their views

They might, like me, be wondering what to choose

Meat from the butchers, or some humble spam

Or whether to have a quick one in The Lamb

I’ve chosen breakfast eggs, I’m on a roll

I’m going to town, I’m going to simply stroll

I’m going to look at options and take note

I’m choosing choice and I am going to vote

…

If stuff goes wrong I’ve got till ten o’clock

The day is long, I’m on it (where’s that sock?)

*

 Moonraker Bears

For the Moonraker Bears shop, Devizes

…

‘Tis the night before Sunday, the bears are awake

Excited and hungry for lunchtime and cake

They are Moonraker Bears, and quite partial to cheese

Hanging out at the Crammer and hiding in trees

The word in the cupboard, in bunk beds and chairs

Is that Giles is coming to talk about bears

There’ll be new bears and old bears, all having a chat

Discussing the look of this coat and that hat

And the children will be there, the children are nice

Someone might buy a bear for a reasonable price

A new friend for Paddington, Winnie or Ted

Who might come home to stay on the chair or the bed

There’s a doctor for sick bears, a hospital too

And a website for bears that is totally new

About time, said the teddies, a place just for us

Where we bears can hang out without worry or fuss

We can’t wait till it opens, to go there and play

At the Moonraker Bears shop, down Sidmouth Street way

* 

United, Reformed

The Marriage of Martin and Jayne

…

When the Queen of Sheba, so ‘tis said

Came to ask of Solomon the King

Whether the tales told of him held true

He saw her beauty and entrusted her

With knowledge and the wisdom of all things

…

In this dear church today bedecked, with

Country flowers from Wiltshire gardens plucked

She comes to plight eternal troth to him

He stands beneath the Rood with certainty

The Rede she brings his true heart comprehends

…

In lilting voice the kind Welsh minister intones

A rare and ancient Scottish wedding rite

Rings grace their hands as tokens of their love

Engraven with the joy of Cornish lands

Solemn the vows they speak to man and God

…

Today so many complicated threads

Are bound together with simplicity

Two become one within the blesséd Trinity

Faith from the halls of history made new

United, reformed and sanctified with Love

*

Obscure Bloom; the Eclipse

…

Obscuring the moon

A veil of rose and ashes

Fades and overwhelms

…

Memory of light

Lost imprint of blossom bloom

Imperceptible

…

Through black spaces move

Things unearthly and unseen

Stirring the shadows

…

Earth falls to silence

Darkness comprehending not

What may yet become

 * 

Singing Vincent back to Life

(A sonnet for Seth, a musician who busks in Bath)

…

Beneath the Stall Street Colonnades he sings

Of Vincent and his starry, starry night

The echo of his bright resounding strings

Infusing scintillating rain dropped light

As weary shoppers rest and take a breath

His voice falls low and sweet upon the air

By painted shades of Vincent’s starry death

Drawn forth, an ancient sorrow hard to bear

Hot tears spring and mingle with the mist

And brim and well and fall upon the ground

In blues and greys, like Vincent’s canvas kissed

By grief and madness; blesséd joyful sound

Of one man’s voice, uplifting, sweet and strong

The grave of Vincent opened, with his song

*

Apple Barrels

on fears regarding the refugee crisis

…

Some apples make cider

And some apples not

Some ferment as expected

Some do not

There may be statistics

I suspect not a lot

That predict the existence

Of possible rot

Schrodinger’s cat

Is wise to the plot

A cat in a box

Or a wolf in a cot

In the barn there are barrels

To keep cold or hot

The cider is coming

Ready or not

*

God loves little Jacqui Clark

for the Reverend Jacqui Clark on her birthday

…

God loves little Jacqui Clark

With all her kind and merry ways

Bright darling candle in the dark

Dear joyful soul who lights our days

Thank you, Jacqui, for the love

You bear to heal our hurt and pain

For blesséd manna from above

Flows forth from you

Like gentle rain

*

Banksy’s Joke

…

I want to go to Dismaland!

I’ll “thcweem until I’m thick!”

I have blisters on my fingers

From the endless futile click

There’ll be secretaries on it

Pulling non-existent strings

There’ll be rumours of a con

On social media and things

I want to go to Dismaland

And see the horrid stuff!

How come I can’t buy tickets

And my money’s not enough?

In the shadows Banksy chuckles

He’s got the Art World in his hand

He has turned pretention on itself

As planned

*

Lost and Found;

the Spurious Incident

of the Dog in the Night Time

for Helen and Jake

…

Who’s in the dog house, someone has been flakey

The someone who lost the unfortunate Jakey

Thank heavens for Girls and the Book of the Face

And the people of town who live down Mayenne Place

For needles in haystacks are easy to spot

Compared to the dog who was there, and was not

The tale of his loss was inherently spurious

The dog in the night time; an incident curious

They shouted, they whistled, they got out their torches

Searched the canal and the shadows in porches

Where was the Jakey dog?  No one could tell

Till somebody heard a desperate yell

“He’s here” someone said, “he’s been here all night”

Oh dear, someone will be in the dog house tonight

Result; one happy girl and a tail wagging hound

And ‘The dog which was lost’ now ‘The dog which was found’

*

flickering cloud; a tanka

…

fluttered by autumn

the leaves of my window tree

gave up summer’s ghost

and in one flickering cloud

fell simultaneously

*