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August 3, 2018


Touch him at your peril –

not even a friendly nudge,

if you know what’s good for you

as she will hold a grudge.


Do not pinch his bottom

just because he winked his eye,

for she will surely see it –

this past mistress of i-spy.


Play footsie under the table

if your life you want to end,

for she knows too well his history

and on her foot you can depend.


No more touchy-feely,

no more impulsive nips,

allowed these days in this society

now P.C. has got to grips.


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April 28, 2017



Beyond the realms of madness

on a planet far away,

lies the devil waiting

in the hope one will go astray.


Beyond the realms of reason

testing out ones strength,

lies the old persuader

who will go to any length.


Beyond the realms of sadness

in a world of yesterday,

lies half dead, the subconscious

since love went away.


Beyond the realms of tomorrow

no future can there be,

where tears have formed an ocean

and one marooned for eternity.



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Never to have had that moment,

never to have had that hit.

Never to have laid wide open,

your heart, your soul, your it.


Never to have yearned and conquered,

never to have struck that note.

Never to have lost your senses,

never to have, on someone dote.


Never to have seen such madness,

never to have lost control.

Never to have been there, done that,

never to have lived life whole.



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February 27, 2017



He was here and yet,

now nowhere to be seen.

Like so many more

who came in between.


He was here, you bet –

joy, a bottomless floor.

No thought for tomorrow,

knowing there was no more.


He was here and yet,

now a lone silhouette,

on a deserted shore,

that time won’t forget.


He was here and yet,

his voice lingers still,

as the echo of laughter,

meanders downhill.


He was here and yet,

never meant to stay.

Take a moment of heaven

and store it away.




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October 22, 2016



and two or three

or maybe four,

passed by this way

in days of yore.


Some stopping off

as travellers do.

To re-fuel tanks

before saying adieu.


and five or six

or seven more,

in intervals

knocked at the door.


Some getting in

as travellers do,

unless ‘No vacancy’

sign on view.


and eight or nine

or even ten;

all sad and lonely

weary men.


Some spinning yarns

as travellers do,

whilst selling wares-

rest overdue.


and eleven or twelve

or memorable thirteen,

down on his luck,

without a bean.


Some sob story given

as travellers do –

A bed in the shed

where rhubarb grew.


and fourteen or fifteen

and sixteen, I recall.

Arriving with two trunks

dropped in the hall.


Some magician of sorts,

he said, was he,

with an able assistant –

as fit as a flee.


and seventeen or eighteen

or nineteen, I did greet,

feeling it was time,

to put up my feet.


Some rest needed

from the hotel lark.

Time had taken it’s toll –

I was losing my spark.


Good job that twenty’s key,

fitted like it should:

Home Sweet Home, a blessing;

returning back for good.


Some loving comfort needed;

his timing spot on.

The door firmly bolted

now we two back as one.



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Let’s meet and talk mumbo-jumbo,

and put the world to rights.

Let’s yap until our throats dry,

about nothing until dawn lights.


Let’s skate around the houses,

and up and down the alleyways,

without revealing anything obvious,

that on our cautious tongue stays.


Let’s have a drink, then another,

and one more to make memory flee,

until we forget if we’ve done what we came for,

so another guilt trip, there won’t be.



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October 1, 2016



I sent you a message by telepathy

that I hoped would arrive at your side,

as you boarded the 8.10 to Euston,

in time for your daily ride.


Once inside your head I tangled,

with your thoughts, until I got through,

patiently, willingly, waiting in line,

as I knew there’d be quite a queue.


I felt you take off your jacket;

placing it neatly across your knee.

One less thought for you to think about,

before you got around to me.


I blocked your thought of the Laptop.

I’m sorry to use my power this way.

I just needed to have your attention,

more so than ever today.


Instead you took out your newspaper!

Dear Lord, there goes my master plan.

It would be another twenty minutes,

before your mind I could fully scan.


But something you read, somehow made you

look out through the window to think.

So I grabbed the chance whilst I had it;

my message through, leaving me tickled pink.


You closed your eyes for a moment.

It was then I knew I’d reached first base.

When the smile that I live and die for,

appeared on your wonderful face.






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‘Well ‘to and fro’ –

you know how it goes,

this game of ups

and downs and lows.


This getting on

with life in spite

of all the hazards

day and night.


Trapped on a see-saw –

thoughts suspended.

No get-out clause,

or ride open-ended.


And only viable

is this attraction,

when offloaded is

the weighty fraction.


So, there you go –

lets now put to bed

absurd misgivings,

sometimes falsely read.


No more getting wrong –

well – meant intentions,

that come out twisted

as if new inventions.


Trapped in a Dodgem

with a jerk, suspended.

No get-out clause;

a wedding ring intended


this ride for life

without distraction:

Problems worked through

until satisfaction,


sees fresh water

in the well run clear,

after a glass of wine

or a needy beer.


When unraveled are,

the old crossed wires,

replaced by moondust

and loves desires.









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September 13, 2016



Sweet music working it’s magic

taking one back in time,

to a page in the imagination –

so vivid, the scene of the crime.


Where quite unexpectedly taken

was a heart, now set deep in stone.

The outer casing cracked by the rhythm,

glances exchanged for reasons unknown.


The opening bar, a constant reminder,

whenever heard from that day on.

When a heart stolen unexpectedly;

life never the same, until memory gone.


Sweet music working it’s magic

taking one back to that day,

and a chapter never to be forgotten.

So sad when it ends that way!


Where quite unexpectedly taken

was a heart, now set deep in stone.

The outer casing cracked by the rhythm,

glances exchanged for reasons unknown.


The closing bar, the saddest part ever,

when heard from that day on.

Old feelings automatically surface;

life never the same, until memory gone. 



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June 30, 2016



and if all hugs be

the yeast of life,


but a small sacrifice.


and when kisses fuel

the want for thee,

not a problem

being nut-free.


and tender strokes

as soft as silk,

replace the lactose

found in milk,


when romance feeds

the hearts desire;

the food of love

there to inspire.



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