Biography

Born 1938. On and off writer of poems since late adolescence, and more often since retirement. A former social worker. Belonged to Warwick Writers Group and regular at Pure Good and Right Open Mic in Leamington Spa until moving to Eastbourne in 2013. Interested in writing poems for occasions where I have a personal connection. Poems tend to be downbeat and roughly hewn. Had a go at rap until my daughter told me to be my age! But I do like writing poems with rhyme and rhythm amongst my mix. I now host the monthly Poetry Cafe at The Under Ground Theatre cafe in Eastbourne and have joined the Downland Poets No interest/aspiration in being published Sometimes I think my poems are pretty good but that is probably a self delusion which keeps me happy

Samples

Eastbourne Beach When I go down to the beach I pick up a medley of stones Each stone has its own syllable And they lie in a vast expanse. In my pocket I take home A few well rounded syllables And maybe a jagged angry shout or two I hurl heavy ponderous tones To splash and sink beneath my feet I shy shrill notes towards the clouds and far horizon Or skim swift murmers On top of the waves And then I lie me down To listen to a myriad whispers Re-counting the passage of time WHO GOES THERE? Who goes there? I am seized by fright Who goes there? I am pinned by the light Who am I? I cannot define myself In this piercing beam Who am I? What have I to declare On this white spot With darkness out there Is this the very moment Or is it a dream? Let me loose in the shadows Let me rummage longer Gather the bits and pieces I have scattered around I can come back with a suitcase Which you may examine With your scalpel white light There may be pieces of paper There may be records There may be melodies Ditties noises smells Undergarments gems Scratches stains markings Dandruff nail clippings Smiles and wistful looks Handfuls empty spaces Lockets dilemmas Packets bound with ribbons To tell you who I am To tell you who goes there So don't just stare With that unblinking glare Let me see you out there The colour of your hair And what you may wear Who are you to judge That I may pass Beyond the wire Its barbs and jolts? Who has no fault They cannot face? So turn off that torch And break that glass Turn your back if you wish And let me pass

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.