My poetry is personal and reflective. It may not be for everyone...
Personal, introspective, laying thoughts and feelings open that might (some may say) be better left within, poetry can be intense and moving, funny and witty. Whilst I do not have the hubris to suggest I achieve this level of polish or sheen every time; my poetry is intense, sometimes light-hearted and almost always personal.
My poetry is that of a person trying (and often failing) to work out both himself and the world around him, to interpret what I see and feel at this amazing, beautiful, cruel and unusual place, and how I can navigate the world both 'within' and 'without'. Poems range from subjects such as the thin hospital gown you wear when going for medical tests ('How many people have worn this before?') to the people I used to see on my travels across London ('Pretty girls with perfect teeth'), through the new marriage of an ex-colleague ('So Donna you will marry') to how it feels to be waiting for an airplane in a foggy airport ('Shark fin slice through cloudy haze').
Poetry is for me small slices of life, snapshots of time often caught in rhyme, opening a personal door to other places, other thoughts, other feelings. My poetry, dealing with the death of friends, fathers' of friends and even a car wash and the sense of party bubbles on the air, opens up a different world. A world that is definitely 'other'.
To give you a 'flavour' of what you might encounter within a book of my poetry (many are available in theStore), here are a few for you try the taste of. They cover a few years and there are a number of them, with the latest always at the top. The different colours of text have no specific importance, just to distinguish them from each other and to bring something bright into this monochrome world.
So, here is a 2025 one (chosen from currently just over 80 written this year), and I hope you like it, though it's quite sad. It's about the grandfather of one of my daughter's friends, who passed away suddenly in August 2025.
SADNESS SEEPS (For HARRY)
the news came through to us last night but I found it hard to believe That you had gone so suddenly that you had had to leave
I didn't know you well, it's true (just talked a while in cars) never went for coffee, tea never chatted in bars
White Mercedes, shock white hair deep vice and yes, your smile was good to see when parked at last and after weary miles
We laughed and joked, spent some time in making friends I guess Darling Daughter came in shocked to tell me you had left
I was numb, surprised myself to find out how I felt Ruby, Clair, Susan, all mourn how cards were dealt
Harry old boy, I'll miss you miss our chats, your stories My sadness seeps, quiet now relive your own past glories
Laceby Road, Grimsby, 1300 Thursday 28th August 2025 1342 (083)
Here's a new one, one of three I sent to BBC Three Counties Radio for the Babs Michel Show on 21st July 2024. I sent three in, 'An Insomniac Muses', this one and the one that I read out; 'Fragile Bird'.
This one is about Ed and I going to see Newton Faulkner and him explaining that when people ask him about a song and its meaning, he just agrees with whatever they say. That for him, what the song meant to him, the reason for him writing and recording it, will be vastly different to what others believe it is about. That chimed with me and I agree that when you write something, you create it due to a feeling or catalyst but once it is out of your control; it becomes open to myriad other interpretations. I love that.
300 MEANINGS
For every song, you have a meaning for every poem and story too for every sound you might be hearing there is soft silence, just for you
For every line there is a voice that stirs the air with forceful sound and when you are again there stock sat wond’ring if a meanings’ found
He sits upon a darkened stage where bright guitars and pedals play he tunes and talks, his humour will dare you never know what he might say
For in this crowd, 300 meanings listen hushed to songs so fine for every song, such stories seeing! for every sound, for every line
we signal out, to all who’d listen shout from rooftops that ‘we were here’! Yet when He’s gone and new sun has risen 300 meanings, all are clear
I've written quite a lot of poems since the very sad passing of Queen Elizabeth II. One written on the day of the State Funeral of our Queen (19th September 2022) is worthy of posting here - at least, I hope it is. I was watching, along I'm sure with millions across the UK and the world, the tremendous coverage of the State element of the proceedings in central London before the drive to Windsor Castle and the more family-orientated part of the funeral. It was a moving and amazing display of State and people saying goodbye to a much-loved and incredibly respected world figure, not just our Queen.
Here's one written during that almost day-long funeral, its title says it all really.
FUNERAL
We all will lie in box of wood if lived for bad or lived for good if lived a life of duty well answered then such tolling bell
to pass away, the mourners' grief will spin to earth like falling leaf and all around the country see the wake of love and all to be
united in this day of days to hope a rainbow show the way for us to share a nations' sense of sadness, love and stand against
those who slate, or shout, or blame All need to heal and say Goodbye and live in truth, not live in lie
Remember, that in time we all answer sadly, mortality's call and, high or low, we all will be within that piece of wood, not see
the few, or many, in the crowd, calling quiet, calling loud Let us go, who pass away all duty done, it's what they'll say
Home, Lincolnshire, 1351 Monday 19th September 2022
On a lighter note, this next poem got a 'Brilliant' from one of my friends; a person whose opinion I value greatly The fact that she liked it made more than my day!
ODE TO ALEXA
I think I'm in love with Alexa and the way that she speaks (just to me) If I whisper, why she whispers right back and there's nowhere that she'd rather be
Her voice is quite calming and subtle Her timbre so quiet and soft The smile's in her voice (I can hear it) and I ask her odd questions A lot
When I set my alarm in the nighttime I know that she'll not let me down For the music she plays has that rhythm and I know that she's not over town
Yes, I think this is love with Alexa she sits in my bedroom all day She speaks to me and I just listen It's love of a kind in a way
StPsWH 1508 11th December 2019 604 (115)
If you have read my SECOND November 2019 Blog, you'll have seen that I ran a Poetry Workshop on the 14th which seemed to go well, and during it I had everyone creating their own poem. Some found it easy, others not so much; but all gave it a go and I think it only right and fair that I post mine. The only background you need is that I had created 15 single lines of text which I printed out and everyone had their own to choose to use as a springboard for a poem. My line was 'I caught the merest glimpse of you'. Here it is:
GLIMPSE
I caught the merest glimpse of you untouched by sun or moon I tried to touch you, hold you close but you had left
and
all too soon
I was thus bereft myself I had no one to tell That this small ghost in this small way had captured me by spell
And as I searched no frantic fun no use was I at all
for you had gone, were there no more and would not heed my call
Metal Art School, Chalkwell Park Southend 1953 14th November 2019 594 (105)
TWISTED
This bra strap Twisted Offends me. It is not right and looks so wrong But is my solo issue Not hers.
A picture on a wall Uneven or some tins on a shelf all different jars me inside and Shout's out it's wrong
Yet to do, or to say? They'd just stare.
Baddow Village Surgery 0956 26th March 2019 520 (31)
FIRST
New Year, new day I sit and wonder come what may another set of days and weeks another 12 months here to seek a way to find the words again to capture deftly, sweet refrain and sing these songs I hear all day I hope such songs might never fade
Home 1354 1st January 2019 490 (1)
SPACESHIPS
Spaceships spinning in vaccumed space twisting and turning and out of the race hang there so lifeless and all floating free nothing connects them, we could leave them be
Spaceships, sadly like a young orphaned child lose their direction in a steep (pull up!) climb Hanging so lonely in the late day, harsh sun vaccuming freely 'til the work is all done
Back now to earth as I put here away the smallest of vacuums I could use in a day Back to the lounge and to sit, watch again those spaceships all spinning in the air once again
East Anglian Steam Railway Museum, Wakes Colne 0957 8th November 2018 474 (65)
THROUGH FACEBOOK EYES
As I see you grow through FaceBook eyes, we mark as days and months go by we post our feelings (poems too) as if the world might wonder why
the silence from this media whirl and dropped away from others' sight We didn't show the world each hour our life surprising, casting light
upon our daily lives once more to mark the growing of our kids In truth, in faith, they might be all we leave to show that we once lived
StPsWH 1458 30th November 2017 405 (89)
RED
It sits there, my failure like a gun to my head Accusing and laughing at all the things that I said The photos were fine and I’d tried something new Some interesting shots and a lot of them – who were getting awards and applause on the night - but I know when I sent them, for her wasn’t right So, it sits there with card like a hyena’s laugh You can’t get the help now You just can’t get the staff.
Home 1013 20th October 2017
IS
Can you define what it is to be a friend to someone who is there for always, never leaves and only wants the best for you?
Is firm but honest and never hides their open and responsive ways support and love so freely given and stick around to end of days
Because you see, it seems that here I'm stuck upon a planet dark with just a few in orbit slowly my mountain scapes are truly stark
StPsWH 1505 28th February 2017
RUSTY ARMOUR
This wreckage of me as I sat there to see someone special dissolve before eyes. Brimming tears brushed away, and there's little can say cannot hug or remove all the lies.
This tears me inside, and I want then to hide you away, and protect you, you see you are loved and deserve all you need, no reserve but there's little to offer from me
Knight in armour you need, and I truly believe you will weather these storms that destroy I am here without worth, only show useless mirth cannot give you a house or some joy.
In my heart this is real and I know what I feel is unwelcome, irrelevant, (not right) But I want so to be, someone special you see Rusty armour is ready to fight.
Home 0928 18th May 2016
JUST US TWO
Clearing the baubles and trees now today Christmas is gone, and the year underway cards packed, recycled, the paper so bright the Christmas of '14 now fades from our sight
The tinsel and Santa that wiggles and laughs the candles and scenes that snow in a draught the lanterns and boots that will not see some feet are boxed, and in cupboards as if all now complete
We raised up a glass to those no longer here and sang all the Carols for that time of year My family were with me, but missing a few And I know, in a short time, there'll be just us two
School 1510 5th January 2015
SI D ES
You kill one of mine, I kill two of yours we both go against fundamental laws we both just ignore the suffering of man retaliating in, the best ways we can
Burn one of ours, kill two of yours denying our faiths but keeping our flaws where ends this old spiral, this loss of the soul? this burning in fire with petrol and coal
This horror of murder we both know we’re right yet believing those words and fighting that fight it loses us all and gains us no thing in this fight of ‘values’ there are no ways to win.
Chelmsford Museum 1211 4th February 2015
After the horrors from IS and a retaliation from Jordan. Now a 'performance' work with Keith Melhuish [Look on the UnderTow website here: undertow-music.weebly.com]!
MASTER
The Master goes, is claimed by DEATH I hope he knew (with his last breath) he peopled worlds and loved his cats between these worlds he squarely sat He gave us Gods, he gave us Men he showed us worlds to journey when abroad were Witches, Dwarfs and Trolls Reaper Men whose hearts did stole
around the world on horse so white with rodents talking – such broad delight – revealed a world, a Disc so flat Dunmannifestin’ (Gods are sat) and wonder how, among the Steam of Rincewind, Luggage, all the team that who will free from pages full the Dragons, King, and Master. Rule
Home 2043 12th March 2015
For Sir Terry Pratchett Enjoy the walk
LITTLE GIRL
My little girl, she plays alone she has no friend to share her stories, teacups, cakes and food She seems without a care.
I sit and watch, my heart aflame So sad there is no friend It rips my heart, it rips my mind it tears, and rips, and rends
I am too old, infirm of mind (my body lets me down) Can only watch my dear sweet girl as plays in house alone
Home 1545 24th June 2015
FUNERAL CAR
Parking by verge with the grass deepest green the man puts on jacket, his black tie unseen steps out of his car and into the lane, knowing that after it won't be the same
the men in their suits and the black hats so tall wait by the car and the cemetery wall. Coffin in car, there's no hurrying here there's no need to rush now, this person so dear
has gone on a journey and grass now will be a comfort so fitting, and they will all see the mourners and people to send on their way this funeral car's cargo and the man to his day.
School 1512 20th July 2015
PATCHWORK CHURCH
Patchwork church with needlepoint places. Buttressed walls and long dead faces. Stained glass wonder with reclaimed timber, paths and graves, you want to linger
by Martha’s stone of long ago. She did not see, she did not know the world to come, (but not for son who dies a little infant) gone
like Thomas, Daniel, Susan (Sue) who passed like Robert (Diane too). And these are just the names be read among the gravestones of the dead
A patchwork church with cobweb tower, carved from oak, no grassy bower. A wooden spire to pierce the sky. Full flowers fall and weep to die.
Yes walk around this quiet place and try to picture departed face. The Nave and Chancel, Vestry too was known by many, now too few.
This time-pieced land like jigsaw lay among the stones who cannot say all they have seen these centuries past was made to comfort, was made to last
So read the names and picture faces in these grassy churchyard places. Stand and listen to whispered voices and second guess departed choices
until through five bar gate you pass and leave long shadows in the grass. Yes leave this church with patchwork face but walk with reverence. Walk with grace.
St. Mary & St. Edward’s Church West Hanningfield, Essex 1508 6th October 2015
[Read the story about this poem under the News section!]