Saturday, 24 December 2011


Granddads and grandkids,
bald heads and roundheads,
teenage cavaliers
snorting at the prospect.

Grandmas with twinsets,
princesses with crowns on,
teenage femme fatales
sneering at the scene.

Open featured actors,
passion of the children
clean our dirty heartstrings

and fledgling troubadours
cheer with all the action,
clap until they’re sore.

Wednesday, 21 December 2011

This train will stop at

seat or sofa, stop in bed,
stop for coffee, beer and bread,
stop at nothing, stop my head,
stop that nonsense, stop the blood,
stop the bottle, stop the spread,
stop the car, stop sign ahead,
stop all the clocks – my stopwatch said –
stoptap, stop light, stop off. Stop.
Stopcock’s stopped. Step off. I’m dead.

Sunday, 18 December 2011


On a train to London
he goes a-hunting
between coffee cups,
iphones, apps.
Outside, backwards, fly
- green fields – blue sky.

He’ll need a large pool of luck,
all his courage,
to look out - into
longing for eyes in the glass of a window,
hoping to catch a truth.