She's gone again, I dont know where

Her nightly walks a bit of a mystery,

I wonder if there's some fancy man

After all, she has a bit of a history

If I had any sense, I'd try to follow her

Difficult to think its come down to this,

Yet we dont communicate anymore

To be fair, it was never married bliss

A copper at the door with bad news

They've found a woman in t...

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Moved in, hired a skip

In here time stood still

Dealt with the daughter

Her dad gone, taken ill

Bathroom has lead pipes

Ceilings tobacco-stained

Window timbers rotten

Wet-rot well-engrained

Valuers took the quality

I'm left with foisty rugs

Sixties-style bric-a-brac

A zoo of domestic bugs

Fifty years in this semi

Kids married, wife dead,

Mak...

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A bow to The Poetry King,
who thinks he doesn't 
mean a thing 
in the grand scheme.

Wears his heart 
on stained sleeve,
makes paupers feel
like royalty.

Waxes poetic about 
life, love, and history
that would otherwise remain 
unsolved mysteries.

More than just a dream,
The Poetry King
lives eternally,
in you and me. 

https://youtu.be/0FT3SmZ_zx0

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When I saw your wayward ways

My heart switched into reverse

This was far from what I wanted

An outcome so plainly perverse

Yours was a heart with no history

We were strangers, noon till night

The one I married was a mystery

A mirror that reflected no light

Tales you told me of your past

Turned out to be little but fiction

I stood next to a stranger when

T...

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Born of pain cursed to live that way

A forgotten name marked with shame

Guilt by association becomes your fame

A stolen name becomes the scares on the back of a forgotten man.

Fading away to become the dust of another land

Bitterness replaced by forgiveness justice is a slap of the back of a hand.

Born of pain the mind struggle the mental slaying 

The community broke...

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Penetrating through soft light clouds: airspace; blended for all who dare to impress.
Assiduous Amy Johnson did just that: a derring-do role model: a legacy;
relative in the minds of many that still lives on.
Renowned for her solo flight: London to Australia in 1930.
Transcended the hitherto, male domination, seizing world-recognition.
Flying away from ground possessions, flying amongst the s...

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I've tended to have an old fashioned view of libraries - a very positive one, but limited to book borrowing, quiet spaces for reading and a children's corner. Of course, there is much or to a modern library than that and I have become involved with a couple of aspects of Surrey Libraries of which I was previously unaware.

The first of these is a poetry blog. This is a regular feature which incl...

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Sell Me Something More Than Snake Oil And Lies

They say that pulling down statues

Is rewriting history

As though the sculptors who made them

Were historians

And not some commissioned artist

Doing what he was told

Sell me something more than snake oil and lies

It is a form of history

Cast in the wealthy viewpoint

From the stance of the privileged

It’s...

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Re-writing history's a

Picnic Cromwell's

Puritans

Henry V111 and the

Monasteries

Pol Pot Stalin

Mao Tse Tung killied

Millions when they

Pulled down the statue of

Saddam Hussein how that

Transformed Iraq the

Taliban blowing up the

Buddhas made Afghanistan a

Model state simply

Toss a lump of metal into the

Canal

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Judging the crimes of

History is easy just

Pull down a statue but

Who's judging us?

We get away with murder:

Inequality rife

Vice condoned

Old folk choking

Starving kids

Mass extinctions the

Planet going to hell,

Hourly we

Bequeath fresh skidmarks for

Our kids to

Topple

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A stroll around Kirkby Lonsdale with me

Take-away a bacon butty and a cup of tea

Start at Devils Bridge among the motorbikes

This is where we will begin our short hike

The pathway along the River Lune is our walk

Ending up the Radical Steps, breathless, unable to talk

A view made famous by Ruskin and Turner long ago

Across to Underley Hall and the Lune Valley below

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In layers of strata lie the tracks of history

Archaeologists hunt for artefacts and bones

I cut off your flex and buried you with ceremony

Lamenting the demise of your dulcet tones

Sentinel moonlight lit the private interment

Your laser will exhume Miles Davis no longer

Millenia of chords traversed that plastic portal

You left me deaf, my hearing aids get stronger

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The Overland Launch:

In the land of Coleridge and his Ancient Mariner,

    In a time of coal fires, wooden boats and horsepower,

There is a story of the Lynmouth Lifeboat Louisa

    And the night horse and man over 13 miles pulled her.

Two of the afternoon clock struck a chime,

    On January 12th, 1899.

The wind howled and the sea it roared,

    Flooding ports and rai...

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On the cold winters morning thermal boots are pulled on

The radio announced…ground frost and the promise of snow later in the day

And yet she is happy…

Happy because she is doing what she loves

The market is freezing in December

Icy winds blow and there is no sunlight to warm frozen hands

It’s the people you see

Fellow workers on the market, pleased to see her

Customers sto...

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