Showing posts from August, 2019


Today on the news I read that President Trump was concentrating defence activity on protecting satellites from enemy fire.
It got me thinking;

The Satellite
Son, they’ve shot the satellite
World War 3 has broken out
No nuclear explosions
No sneaking in like Trojans
No fighting in the trenches
No breaching of early warning defences
No blitzing of towns and cities
No celebrating battle victories
No men in bombers and tanks
No panic and run on the banks
No cyber threat to turn lights out
No rationing and doing without
Son they’ve shot the satellite
This will cause chaos and strife
Change forever modern life
Subsistence and degradation
Leaving in it’s wake a lost nation
Mourning the elimination of satellite navigation.

Human Space

Today we had a fantastic day in Ramsgate and Broadstairs. The sun shined, for once, on a bank holiday weekend, and the crowds descended onto the beach. It got me thinking though. How come we spend most of our life seeking more space but when the sun comes out we huddle together on a crowded beach...and love it!
Human Space
Humans are a funny species We long for more space A bigger house, an extension A garden with a large luxuriant lawn A bigger car, space on a train A bed on a first class flight Take delight in a queen sized bed Get shirty when the council Wants to build in my back yard Find it hard when stuffed on a tube Get in a mad mood when someone Anyone invades my space Can’t win the race to get To the front of the queue Feel blue when there’s just too many people So why on earth do we descend  Like sheep on steroids and speed When the sun hits the sky Why oh why do we decide to flee Leave the town and city To be beside the sea.

The Field

This week we have been staying in our friends’ annexe accommodation at the bottom of their beautiful garden. We looked out onto the field you can see in the picture. Our time here has been so relaxing and it inspired today’s poem. 
PS. Thanks Anne and Rod for a wonderful week.

The Field
Dancing barefoot happy and free  Basking in the mesmerising breeze Infused lushness lingering underfoot Embracing the wild field of existence 
Jumping ecstatically high touching  The limitless twenty four Shades of shimmering blue Breathing in intoxicating air
Soothing sensations as sun Kisses skin feelings of love Emanate from within Spreading uncontrollably like wild fire
The phenomena of painful past Dissolves into dark distant memory Senses tingling, alive and refresh As droplets of rain touches skin.

Turnips and Swedes

Last night, somehow we got into a discussion about what were turnips and what were swedes. I didn’t realise there was such confusion out there. But I was wrong! I have got to admit I am fairly ambivalent about the subject as I am not a great fan of either! However, forget Brexit, this is the subject that is dividing the nation. Turnip v SwedeDebate so heated in DevonThe topic of turnip and swede Arguments twenty four sevenTotal confusion indeed
Now today I checked Wikipedia To finally settle the scoreToday’s informative encyclopaedia To end this turnip swede war
Now I’m afraid it wasn’t conclusiveIt seems geography is keyA definitive answer is elusiveNo one can seem to agree
In the north one is a turnipIn the south it is a swedeCome on guys let’s get a gripIt’s only a bloody veg...agreed?


Writing poetry seems a strange process to me. This afternoon I was feeling great, we have had a good run this morning, just had a great break with our friends at Hadrian’s Wall and yet when I sat down to write a poem, this flowed out of the keyboard. I am not sure where it came from. It certainly doesn’t reflect how I feel today, or thankfully, most days. Maybe it is inspired by times when I haven’t been quite so at peace with life. Long may the good times continue!!
Somedays there’s just rubbish Rattling in my head Somedays I might as well  Not get out of bed Somedays when the weather’s Pissing down outside Somedays to live or die I simply can’t decide Somedays I’m feeling sedentary Lacking in motivation Somedays my head bangs Can’t keep my concentration Somedays I feel that I’m alone Desperate to feel some love Somedays I need some help Look to the higher one above Somedays I fear to venture out Frightened of the unknown Somedays I feel like a stranger When no one rings my phone Somedays I fee…

A Murmuration

In life how often does something happen that makes you stop and think? How many times do you say “that’s put life into perspective”? How many times do you say to yourself “why am I worrying about such insignificant nonsense?” How long does this feeling last before we are once again back living our life and again caught up in stuff that really is not that important in the grand scheme of things?These thoughts were the inspiration for todays’s poem;A MurmurationThere are times in our lifeWhen we stop and take stockWhen we momentarily get off humanity’s treadmillWhen we reassess our reason for beingOur chosen path, the route we takeWhen our worries seem so trivial So needless, so futile, so self inflictedSo dictated by social norms,and conformitySo insignificant that we are ashamedAshamed of how we feel and what we feelAt that juncture we change Change just a little, realign ourselves with realityWith the true meaning of living Like a starling murmurationThings change course rapidly but…

Footie Hooligan

We were travelling back from the Comminty Shield match at Wembley on the tube. In the same carriage were a group of about 6 Liverpool fans chanting and banging the sides of the carriage. Although not physically aggressive it certainly made you feel uncomfortable. These guys were mainly middle aged. One of them broke off the chanting to talk to a couple of Americans. Although still slightly pissed it was clear that he was a well travelled and educated individual. This inspired today’s poem. Footie HooliganMonday morning dressed in a suit
A businessman of high repute A normal life it would appearThat was until ten pints of beerAnd Saturdays with his fellow fanaticsMorphing manically, lary lunatics Footie badge tattooed on calfPretty pissed before the second halfChanting songs full of hatred and spiteFists at the ready for another fightAnger distorts his chiselled features Told to sit down by the stadium speakers Blood red hot not thinking clearlyLays one on the steward that cost him dea…

Tin Can Torture

Last week we had to travel back from York on a train with no air conditioning, on the hottest day in Yorkshire, probably ever! It was not a great experience to say the least...Tin Can TortureTrapped tortured in a snake like tin canStrangers simmering slowly in the stifling furnaceGrown men reduced to shallow shadows Melting into their sweaty shirts and pantsBeats over ears can’t prevent millennial tearsOr babies bawling in their mothers earsThere’s a fleeting relief with a waftA disturbance of air by shuffling zombiesTracking searching a desperate desireA craving a longing for life giving liquidThere’s no god no angel looking overThese travellers no relief from this incarcerationOnly a desperation for the nightmare to endTo be released to an awaiting world To once again breathe and be free

Feeling Sorry For Myself

I have had a cold for about a week now and can’t seem to shift it. I know it’s only a bloody cold but I am starting to feel sorry for myself in only a way a bloke can!  Feeling Sorry For MyselfCoughing and splutteringRed runny noseDown in the dumpsAll suffering 
Sneezing and sniffingLifeless limbsTired and frustratedJust about living 
Aching and moaning Lost appetite Energy extinctPlenty of groaning
No laughing and gigglingNo sense of humourDark mood descendedThis cold is crippling!