Thursday, 11 February 2016

How to Train a Dragon

‘Tied like a cur, damp-breath, from the egg
you whipped my tongue to whimper.
And still I stand and face you, chained to corners
and choked by diamond metal. What to do
when, baleful days, my skin flattens
onto  bone and muscles work and harden?
Every hour I walk and walk my tether.
Oh yes, you need to tame me, flophead, 

But I will never yield to your fat will,
My fate is to destroy in hot adventure
and your flab-hands can reach but know that soonest
they will burn!.
When your Hero came
to fetch me out, human, no doubt you thought
my training would be easy. Here I stand
and baleful wait. Bring on your taming, sweet-blood.
I long for pain and battle. To drink. Break me? Pah! 
You have no skill, no will, no strategy!
I pace, I wait. Know that your unbending need
for me to yield will lead you to a longing
of your death. There is no key. Remember,
beyond blinking eyes, damp as dawn,
I tell you truth. There is no mercy in my stringy heart’

Wednesday, 14 October 2015

Dr. Jekyll and Hyde’s Eulogy

He shoehorned his kids to indifferent careers.
He spooned little words into lady luck’s ears.

He fettled his tax return, filling a form,
and wetted the parched through the eye of a storm.

He lashed up a story to tell to the Boss.
He lavished a drink on that man on the Cross.

He braided the hair of his daughters and sons,
cried ‘Havoc’ in paradise, pulling a gun.

He swindled his brothers from plenty of cash
but sensed that salvation was not by the lash.

Utopia called him and, turning away,
he painted his life just a pixel a day
and threw fire and brimstone to get his own way.

Tuesday, 8 September 2015

Old men should be explorers (Eliot)

Look up, look up, the sun is out;
an Autumn morning lightens.
The duvet’s warm a pillow soft
but birds are busy - piping.

Who cares how come a new sun burns;
sick of lectures, sick of dreams
I put two feet in humble shoes
and leave you to your sleep.
Across a moor,
giggling stream,
a lifting fell,
one step more,
listen, breathe,
time - our ticking time - will tell.

Tuesday, 11 August 2015

The Anti-Misogynistic Misogynist

Women are the weaker sex
so don’t try to convince me
it’s part of a man’s job to listen
because, when you take a good look,
women talk too much
men are more intelligent
Also, it’s a falsehood to claim that
men and women are creative together
meaning that
both sexes are equal - with lots to offer each other
but it’s actually down to a simple truth:
men are stronger
and that
can only create an illusion of having more power than
Big Men
it’s impossible for the two sexes to cooperate
and you’ll never convince me that
Men and Women are equal.


Sunday, 28 June 2015


To sing
is such a little thing;
to shine
- across a spur of time.
And when I choose to shine and sing and laugh
I weave and warp a tapestry. Called life.

Saturday, 13 June 2015


our valleys jump from heather
and run their tiny way
apart - and then together
- towards the sand and spray.

hitting rocks,
catching brooks.

The roaring sea
calls ‘be victorious
in your glorious
dancing path to me.’

Monday, 13 April 2015


Be back in Spring 1915 and head for the Dalesman in Sedbergh, North Yorkshire - nestling under green butresses. Drink 4 pints of  foaming bitter ale and munch on some old bread before setting off up a track into the ever-crouching, trackless Howgill mountains. All snow has gone. It’s a balmy evening, still as boulders, and, although you’re traveling light, that rucsac is heavy and beer sweats out of pores like the chuckling white stream crossing from your left. It gets dark; air cools and moistens. A wind rises so you climb into a bag, using your jumper as a pillow. A few hours later, smell sweet wet grass and see apparent green spears in front of your pointing nose. Pebbles shine and a spider wanders across a real-world near your face.  Stretch palms - there are many heavy steps to go before opening  time.
          Resurrect yourself again or, heaven help you, they’ll be right on your trail.