fish and chip papers and stained smelly sweaters

dirty used condoms, the posh man’s French letters

fresh fast food cartons and old condom packets

discarded pizzas and broken squash racquets

matches, match boxes and cigarette butts,

oodles of noodles from someone’s spilt guts

ring pulls and beer cans, sharp broken glass

empty pill sachets and a lost covid mask

unwanted penni...

Read and leave comments (6)

Wastelands

Canal side moorings and old mills

Stretch their northern roots into the collapsed rubble

Of Industrialised wreckage

Overgrown with harsh grass and weeds

An old man sits at the side of the grey water

And dips a hopeful line into its murky depths

There are parts of old bikes and shopping trolleys

Poking from the surface like Leviathan bones

Paths ...

Read and leave comments (0)

Hey There was this hungry girl from Wigan 
Who bought a Spud pie a big UN 
She ate it fast as fast could be oh dear me 
Then choked on the bugger, crying god save me 

Everyone in Wigan Loves Spud Pies Galore 
Wigan pie shops thriving bursting at yon door 
So if you ever visit this little town 
Try a spud pie you'll enjoy it. It'll not make you frown

Read and leave comments (6)

Her slippers shuffle along
The carpet, with swirls of faded bronze. 
Wrinkled hands worn by casino youth, waltz 
Through the smell of hot leather,
Balancing china cups and saucers.
With eyes that sing the marble green
Of the Empress staircase, her face is the ghost
Of a lost love.

And I, with tiny toes that cannot yet tap
On the ballroom floor below, 
Eat jam sandwiches
On my Grandmot...

Read and leave comments (3)

Last Orders

I come on Thursday, sit on wooden chair
where poets congregate in strange half light,
sharing their thoughts with those who gather there -
the words are spoken, soaring, shining bright,
warming us as we leave to face the night.
The bear pit darkens, but forever hosts
the rhyming, raging, ranting, Tudor ghosts.

Read and leave comments (6)

Had a long dark night of the soul last night as I worked to extend my epic poem 'Thirteen Weeks of Gut-Wrenching Misery in Goole'.

The poem in its original form and length (259 lines) is published in the internationally-acclaimed literary mag The Scunny Onion – supported by Scunthorpe Council.

Last night I added sequences based on my time in Hull, and a prologue about my vile experience...

Read and leave comments (2)

I do hope Julie Goodyear isn’t voted off Celebrity Big Brother. Without her the show would not be worth watching.

I fear she may be voted off, however, not least because most of the people who ring the Channel 5 phonelines are … well … young and a bit thick.

Sorry if that seems cruel, but the type of people who regard the rapper MC Harvey and the US actor ‘The Situation’ as celebritie...

Read and leave comments (1)

The following poem was commissioned by Wigan Performing Arts Centre and was performed by 'We Are Poets!' as part of Wigan and Leigh schools spring cluster project in March 2010.

I've been meaning to post it on here so that anyone with any Wigan connections can enjoy it. It's mostly my work, but I have to confess that the inspired lines re. Limahl and curry came from Mrs McGann aka Gabby Mou...

Read and leave comments (4)