I saw the bird you sent,

Cocking a familiar eye, tapping and watching,

Perched on the flaked paint sill,

Taking to flight the bedroom bulb burst

Stealing away the light

Like loss.


A declaration of undying

Crow wing shadow fingers

flutter, flap from my eyes.

Ink black tributaries

Trailing towards

That last breath.

Your raven head o’ hair,

Falls over these silver threads

Of moon beams, star light and dust.

Let me always be the one.


I read a lot of self-proclaimed brilliance

From poet’s old and young.

I don’t get it.

No-one ever said

Poetry would be easy.

They said it would be worth it.

In failing absence of acclaimed credit,

My own declaration of genius suffices.

My self 5 star review

“A poet messiah amongst mortals”.

Amongst my tawdry tat those

Of polished glass fakestones –

My blood stained thorn crown.

Beyond that rugged hill,

There’s Little Me, hiding, frightened

Behind a bookcase,

Threatening to get my Dad on you

If you don’t like my words.

Poetry: My last confession

Science leave me alone!
I was busy,
I dared to mention your name.
You care less for me than of HER?!
He raged and stomped,
Threw atoms and algorithms at me,
Reminded me I owed him,
That great debt of wage,
He helped reduce my redundancy, kept me normalised.

Science, I said in softer tones,
I will always hold you close,
But you must see?
My first love has always been for HER,
This thing we have, was only to help me
Find my feet, heart, brain.

Silence. No protestation. Nothing.
Awkward gloom hung heavy.
I peered into the monitor
Looking for a response,
All I heard was the dim hum of a fan
Spinning inside his case.


Grey ghost fog,

Faint shrouded morning,

Pinprick night lights,

New day’s adorning

All and each,

Generous gifts given,

Bless’d by beauty,

Dogged by duty,

Working day calling,

Heaven ready a-risen.





Poetry: An Apology

My head was turned

by the lyrics of life

that wailed from the black discs.

I gave up on your beauty,

Your gentle elegance and intelligent phrases

For the coarser sounds of

Sex and drugs and rock n’ roll.

We’re through you said

As you threw

Those bastard records, blasted

Into hundreds of pieces like your heart.

Years have passed –

Those black discs are gone and maybe,

I found you again

Like a long lost open book.


I heard on the radio

About a 52 year old man who died

In a 6 vehicle, road traffic collision

(as there is no such thing as an accident anymore).

I am sure I know him,

Called Bernard or Ken,

Plays Golf at the weekend,

Wears brown corduroy slacks,

Holiday in the Algarve, with his wife of 25 years,

Works in Insurance, protecting with assurance,

His loyal customers whilst passing praise

Onto the younger middle management man-child,

Never jealous, nor over-ambitious,

3 bedroom semi, walled garden, concrete drive, 4 door saloon,

Sipping white wine, quaffing the odd ale,

Leather patched jackets,

And family – 2 kids.

I looked in the mirror.

Reflecting back is an 18 year old I am sure I know,

He is hiding underneath a mask covered in wrinkles,

He looks a bit like Ken.



We fit together

With familiar symmetry.

Like countless pieces

Every connection clip-tight locked

Only released by sigh, breath or beat.

Rebuilt countless times

Reconnected perfectly

Block into block.




Day One

Don’t for one minute be expecting this to be the start of 40 days worth of postings. I am lazy, yes – but also my creative activities for Lent do not revolve around this blog. Don’t get me wrong, I will write about things on here and update as I go along, but let’s all understand where we are starting from. 🙂

A good friend of mine broke up with his wife late last year. I have watched from varying degrees of involvement how he has so far ridden the roller coaster that such an event brings with it. He’s been up and down, lost and found, tore himself into to tiny pieces and slowly re-assembled himself, piece by piece. Like some complex Ikea self-build I think he now finds himself back in one piece but with a few extra pieces that are surplus to requirements. That can be a weird thing, but I know how he will grow from it and what a bright future he has. It’s been hard offering those sparks of light in his tunneled darkness, but having been through it myself, I know sometimes all you need is some faith.

I know how blessed I am. My struggles and ultimate victories have been hard fought. They have cost me “friends”, time, money and often pieces of me, at least the person that I was. Almost like shedding a skin though, I have regrown stronger and better for it. My life now is the life I always wanted, it is humble and modest in material terms, but in the ways that matter (love, faith, happiness, fun) – it is fuller than I could have ever imagined.

No matter how far those stars seem away, keep reaching for them. There’s sunshine out there piercing through the ink black of space like silver threads of hope to grasp.


Lent (let’s start tomorrow)

I was listening to local radio and this morning they had a “thought for the day” segment orated by a parish vicar. Unsurprisingly he was talking about the oncoming of Lent as today is Shrove Tuesday (which as we all know is Pancake Yay – sorry Day). Like many people who may have dabbled with the idea, I thought that Lent was 40 days of misery that involved giving up your favourite thing as to allow you to become closer to Christ and then celebrate that feat by then gorging on chocolate until you are sick.

Not so.

This is one of many popular myths. Firstly I am not a Catholic nor am I a hard core Orthodox Christian – so my commitment to any form of abstinence is difficult – it is not religious doctrine or duty that makes me comply, just the sense of “doing the right thing” and in a world crammed full of temptation that can too easily waiver. So, firstly, I can not give up anything and feel OK about it. No little black mark against me for St. Peter to be checking on. Phew.

In fact, I learned something new from the plummy voiced English vicar today. He himself gives nothing up. He did however use the days of the Lent period to involve himself in a creative project. This year for example he was creating each of the Stations of the Cross, building each one with love and care as a way to demonstrate his faith.

Which is really cool.

So I myself am undergoing a 40 day challenge. Of the creative kind. I am going to try with the very best will in the world to create, make, read, donate, pray, meditate, love, nurture for a full 40 days (or 46 days if you do the sums). Wish me luck and I’ll post updates as we go. You care to join me? Let’s make Lent something to remember.