Cuttings

Here we go 'round the mulberry bush,

The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush.

Here we go 'round the mulberry bush,

On a cold and frosty morning morning.

They took a sprig from Hatfeild Hall

And planted it in Wakefield Gaol

A Mulberry bush grew on the spot

Its humble origins forgot

And there female prisoners exercised at night

Beneath the pale Yorkshire...

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The Mound

It started way back when I was a child

One cold November night in sixty-four

Old furniture and windfall from the trees

Piled high into a mound of combustibles

Each year new kindling was added to ashes

That had smudged the verdant back garden lawn

Layer upon layer added to the blackened hill

That was gradually growing towards the sky

One year I lo...

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Marketplace

This space is like a ghost town

Trestle tables row on row

Echoing with the hustle bustle

Vendors cries of long ago

I held my mother’s hand

And listened to them shout

‘apples sixpence a pound

Come on get your money out!’

Comics stored in cardboard boxes

Toys stacked high on stands

Gleaming in the Friday sun

Just out of reach of sticky h...

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Needles & Thread

I remember her sat at an old Singer sewing machine

Turning the handle in the half-light of autumn

Making dresses and skirts for herself

So that precious pennies could be invested in children

She made me a Lone Ranger mask

From remnants of black cloth

She had left from one of her creations

I wore it with pride and a whoop and a holler

When ...

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Magyk

I had a book all full of spells

Where childhood magic

Weaved its way

Between the yellowed pages

Where dragon’s breath

Set woodland glades alight

And lost children danced

With the frightened and the fey

The teeth of angry wolves

Chewed at the edges

Whilst chattering little demons

Clawed along your spine

Strange apples fell from wizene...

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My Mother’s Kitchen

I’m in my mother’s kitchen

It’s a Monday afternoon

The oven’s heated up the air

The buns will be out soon

Everywhere there’s an aroma

Of cinnamon and spice

An apple pie sits on the table

I’m waiting for a slice

A black-leaded coal fire

Does it’s best to dominate

The heat and the smells

That the baking permeates

An old fridge hums...

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Glam Rock Man

A stack heeled stomp in platform boots

Trowelled make-up and glitter suits

Feather cut hair and tinted roots

It’s Glam Rock, man,
it’s Glam Rock

Teenage Rampage, Ballroom Blitz,

Radio One plays all The Hits

Driving your dad out of his wits

It’s Glam Rock, man,
it’s Glam Rock

Jackie, Smash, Disco Forty Five

What a great time to be alive

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Overnight Stay

“Time for bed” they said,

In a front room warmed by coal fire licks

Where the red and orange and white flames

Danced patterns on the walls of falling dusk

They push, cajole, entice you to the stairs

And do not notice terror tears welling in your eyes

Fourteen steps up the narrow stairwell

Tracing fingers on a pale wallpaper wall

Festooned with or...

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heatwave

it were cracking’t pavements

the sky were chelsea blue

you were sucking cider

from an ice lolly

cos they said it made yer drunk

and we pretended it did

when yer scored a goal

on’t hay coloured pitch

yer mates were hot ‘n sweaty

and their celebrations

trickled down yer back

and salted yer lips

there were standpipes

at end’er sherwood...

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Sister Magdalena

alabaster skin

cold to the touch

pinched

            bloodless

            lips

eyes

the colour of duck eggs

piercing

            your

            soul

wisps

of taut hair

creeping

            from

            her scalp

cross on chain

hanging from

scrawny

            bird

            throat

rosa...

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Sunset Over Lupset (August 1968)

Lupset sunsets smelled of bonfires,

undercut with new mown grass,

wild mint by the kitchen window,

treasures in the strawberry patch.

Father sat with pint of shandy,

The mower cooling in the shade,

the rake stowed by the garden shed,

the kids with sparkling lemonade.

Summer sun dips on the estate

dragging shadows from th...

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The Last Laugh

You got caught out once,

sitting on the top deck of the bus

and gripping the metal bar

that ran across the top

of the seat in front.

He was bragging to his mates

and, although you couldn’t see his face,

you could see the dirty straw hair

and the muck ingrained in his neck

and you imagined him winking.

He turned round slowly,

looked ...

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The Making Of A Worker.

The lorry tips its rubble

On the road outside our house,

the privet hedge engulfed

in a primordial cloud of dust,

it drives away in chugging glee

having spilled its heavy load

and we stand and watch it go

as the carbon mountain settles.

The sergeant-major father

barks his orders at the troops

and our little hands clasp tight

the...

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Once Upon A Time

Pop wagons
rattling and clinking
with their gaudy shades
of potions slopping.

Coal lorries
groaning up the hill
breathing their dragons breath
of carbon dust.

The aged magik
of a ramshackle
cobblers hut
and the clanging of the last.

The shout of
“Rag and Bone”
echoing down
a Monday morning.

Tobacconist 
selling chocolate cigars
to little mimics
of the...

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Drowse

When there are no mirrors
I am young again
Sitting in the warming glow
of distant years
The aches and pains
will all be gone tomorrow
The days are long
and never seem to grey.
Parents are in another room
just out of hearing
The T.V has three channels
all black and white
Three meals a day
are sitting on the table
The bonfire smoke
creates the evening dusk.

Another time I...

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the flimsy frame rattles
as a doom laden bellow
pierces the smoky milk
shrieking  away unwary
sailors straying close
to Yorkshires crumbling coast
like some creature
lost in torment

we cower
beneath dull yellow light
from sweet smelling
gas lamps
their cog wheels
turned up high
and wicks ablaze
to ward off the dark

a jigsaw unattended
its pieces spilling
c...

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Any Winter Saturday In Nineteen Seventy

multi-coloured, sweet, cloying battenberg
taking away the bitter taste of defeat
it’s yellow and pink uniformity
In sharp contrast to the soft curves of the settee
putting ones and two’s and crosses
next to the selections on the pools
a dirty yellow stain hangs over the chair
where my father coughs and splutters on his tea

blacks and whites and ...

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GLAM!!!!!

a bald old man

in glitter suits

gets vertigo

on platform boots

his cigar smoke

hangs in the air

whilst outraged fathers

simply stare

and comment on

the raging poof

who hangs precariously

from the roof

or unnoticed

passes by

in the background

on the sly

his black mascara

and red nails

his pouting preening

never fails

to s...

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