Saturday, 6 June 2009

It could be you

Adrenaline pumping through every vein,
Heart pounding but causing no pain,
Palms clenched, knuckles white,
Fingers crossed, tonight’s the night.
Ears tuned in to just one sound,
Any other noise is turned right down,
Eyes focused, completely mesmerised,
Blood pressure surging, starting to rise.

They choose the same numbers every time,
Marked off carefully on the right line,
With a chance in a million, many do play,
Hoping and praying it will go their way.
Lives could change, dreams may come true,
But many will be left feeling so blue,
The national lottery, played twice a week,
'In it to win it', wealth they do seek.

Saturday, 25 April 2009


Lightning strikes, deafening noise,

Taunting, laughing, it seems to enjoy,

Sparks flying, with different tones,

No one else hears it, she feels so alone.

Engulfed, overpowered, nowhere to turn,

Peace and tranquility, something she yearns,

Her privacy invaded, there's no escape,

A life she now feels nothing but hate.

Crashing and banging, like symbols in a band,

Eyes closed tight, ears covered by her hand,

Precautions taken, to drown out the sound,

But the volume gets higher, the nightmare rebounds.

Electricity surging within her brain,

Like a thunderstorm, returning over again,

Unable to escape, run away and hide,

She keeps this nightmare locked inside.

Friday, 10 April 2009

Battle of wills

Fighting the urge was becoming too strong,
It had only been days but seemed so long,
Temptation all around, pulling him in,
Would its magnetic power finally win?

Desparately trying to keep occupied,
Pushing the thought to the back of his mind,
But despite everything he tried to do,
A voice screamed " go on you know you want to."

Keeping him awake all through the night,
Staring at the ceiling 'till the morning light,
During the day the feeling was worse,
His agitated state was becoming a curse.

Taking up jogging, and walking the dog,
Working extra hours, in his boring job,
Eating for comfort anything in his sight,
His expanding waistline was becoming a fright.

Trying hypnotherapy and nicotine gum,
This addiction he fought had finally won,
One of the hardest things he tried to do,
Giving up smoking - he'll leave it to you.

Tuesday, 29 July 2008


I read and listened to conservative radio talk show host Mr. M. Savage’s outrageous and ill informed claims on his thoughts about Autism, for any parent, carer, teacher or professional who knows an Autistic child they will know that Mr. Savage’s hurtful rant, could not be further from the truth.
(Talk radio network-America)
click below link to read or hear his rant

Mr. Michael. Savage is the only man,
Voicing an opinion like no one can,
Lack of knowledge, causes anger to breed,
Upsetting parents, all part of his deed.

Clearly obvious his brain’s not in gear,
He needs a firm kick to be placed on his rear,
Never learning to run before he leaps,
Lack of common sense is what he reeks.

For every parent of an autistic child,
Mr Savage’s radio rant sent them wild,
His callous speech on this neurological disorder,
Showed his true colours, he’s out of order.

His claim that Autism is a fraud and a racket,
That parents claim welfare to make a packet,
Insulting these children by calling them brats,
Did he really think anyone would put up with that?

The barrage of insults he continued to use,
Calling them morons this is verbal abuse,
Stating only one percent of cases are real,
The other percentage are acting, he thinks is the deal.

For every child or adult that has this diagnosis,
This condition can give a different prognosis,
Symptoms can range from mild to severe,
But either way it can cause many tears.

Mr savage needs to be taught the facts,
Learn from the families of those he attacked,
If he looked into the eyes of an autistic child,
The knowledge he’d gain would be worthwhile.

Instead of blaming their mum's and dads,
He should talk to them and learn the facts,
These special kid's parents, will no doubt tell,
Insensitive remarks can make their lives hell.

Monday, 14 July 2008

Another Love

His eyes focused on the other woman in his life,
She was completely different from his wife,
Whenever he saw her his heart missed a beat,
She really knew how to sweep him off his feet.

She was very expensive, not cheap in this world,
But he gave her everything for she was his girl,
He would tenderly caress every one of her curves,
Speaking to her gently in whispered words.

They had a bond, that couldn’t be broken,
She made him feel young, his life was now woken,
When she was poorly, she would let him know,
He would rush her to the place that she needed to go.

He knew she had something that drove men wild,
Slender looks, beauty and a magnificent style,
Many men offering to take her off of his hands,
But he would decline as she’s part of his plans.

His friends were so envious of his catch,
Desperate to find one that was a match,
Their eyes fixated they showed no tact,
Mesmerised by her body work, this was a fact.

He never kept her a secret from his wife,
She knew of his other love that shared his life,
In fact, she was the one who brought them together,
Encouraging their meetings no matter the weather.

But occasionally his wife would scream out loud:
“Two’s company and three’s a crowd!”
Being said when he didn’t distribute his time,
Just her little warning not to cross the line.

Knowing his wife couldn’t possibly understand,
His feelings for his beauty sitting out on his land,
The blue Mercedes Benz the car of his dreams,
Is the other woman in his life it now seems.

Sunday, 6 July 2008

"What?.......You don't use metaphors?.."

Casting aspersions, on your name,
Follow the rules or don’t play the game,
Spend years revising and taking notes,
Make sure you’re serious, or you’re just a joke.

Speak the language, to get in their books,
If you don’t, there’s no chance of a look,
Just one foot forward in the right direction,
First hurdle jumped to get their affection.

Metaphors to be used, similes are a must,
Dare to omit them, you’ve lost their trust,
Using words that the reader won’t understand,
Except when they have a dictionary in hand.

Don’t use too many commas, dashes and dots ,
That’s an insult and will cause them to strop,
And as for syllables, don’t cut them short,
Then again, too many will be your own fault.

Never use simple wording, this just wont do,
Exaggerated context is much better for you.
After all don’t you want to fit into the theme?
If not, then you can’t be part of their team.

Whatever subject that comes to your mind,
Make sure its what they like, or leave it behind,
All this is needed to be accepted in the gang,
Dare to ignore it, you’re out with a bang.

‘’Poetry should always be written this way,
No exceptions to be made’’ most critics do say,
If you choose not to follow the rules to the tee,
Then you’re never be taken at all seriously.

These poetic commandments need to be changed,
Despite opposition from a wide range,
A true poet should have an individual mind,
Be completely different, be one of a kind.

When the ink hits paper any poet will know,
Exactly which way it wants it to flow,
Not bowing down to the laws of convention,
You’re being unique, with your poetical invention.

Sunday, 29 June 2008

A Stolen Heart

She was taken aback that was for sure,
Never expecting to see him anymore,
Years had passed since that very last night,
When his true persona had come to light.
Recognising him instantly, he hadn’t changed,
Just a few greying hairs were a sign he had aged,
Now they were seated several tables apart,
He hadn’t seen her, if he had he’d depart.

Discreetly looking, she couldn’t budge,
For many years she had held a grudge,
She tried to pretend his memory was dead,
Or at least push it deep within her head,
He had run away to make a new start,
But seeing him now had enraged her heart,
All those answers he had never given,
Made her angry, her soul now driven.

She had never got over the hurt he had caused,
Unable to move on, her life was on pause,
He had won her over right from the start,
Reaching in to her chest, stealing her heart.
A whirlwind romance married within weeks,
Cracks started appearing, answers she did seek,
Finding out their marriage was just a sham,
He turned and walked, not acting like a man.

A warrant had been issued for his arrest,
He‘d broken the law so this was best ,
But where did he live? No one could trace,
Disappearing for years, no sign of his face,
She knew this time would come her way,
He’d get his comeuppance, and have to pay,
She called the police, with his whereabouts,
Now Justice would prevail, this is no doubt.

She had married a bigamist, she felt such a fool,
Never divorcing, he had five wives in all,
Treating her and the others like pieces of dirt,
He showed no remorse to the women he hurt.
She had found it difficult to trust other men,
For fear that history would repeat again,
He’d stolen her heart and ripped it apart,
But today is the day, her life will restart.

Sunday, 22 June 2008

Game over

A cheerful “hello” as she enters the room,
Within the atmosphere she senses gloom,
He had been this way for the past few days,
It looks like today will be the same way.

Trying a gentle approach to get him out of bed,
Nothing seemed to work, no matter what she said,
Sulking and pouting and refusing to talk,
With his stupid attitude she wanted to walk.

Positioning herself on the edge of the bed,
Tenderly, she starts to stroke his head,
With a heavy sigh, she hears him groan,
“Just go away and leave me alone.”

Ignoring his tone, soothingly she says:
“Aw come on babe, don’t be this way”
Again he snaps, with a cut-throat remark,
Her temper now rising she starts to feel narked.

Through gritted teeth, he starts to scream:
“My dreams have gone, and you’re being mean!”
His melodramatic actions and words to match,
She can hardly believe what her ears do catch.

Her voice has risen, her anger’s now wild,
Shouting at him: “you’re behaving like a child”
Trembling lips, and tears in his eyes,
She cannot believe he’s started to cry.

“Don’t you understand? My life is a mess!”
He blubbers in a tissue, thoroughly distressed,
She bursts into fits of uncontrollable laughter,
The look on his face makes him look even dafter.

“This is your last warning, now get out of bed!”
Swearing he’ll find that they’re no longer wed,
He sobs into a tissue, and continues to whine,
“That’s it” she said “you’re crossing the line…….”

His arms now folded, he looks at her with a frown,
She can’t believe her husband’s acting a clown,
The glass of water that’s sitting on the stand,
Is promptly thrown in the direction of her childish man.

Her husband’s tantrum was over a football match,
The goalie proved useless, he was unable to catch,
If ever his team loses, a child appears, it seems.
He’s now banned from watching his favourite football team!

Sunday, 15 June 2008

A time never forgotten

Not used to the attention, as she bathed by the pool,
This waiter fussing around her, he gave it his all,
Completely fixated, around her he lurked,
His flirtatious glances, started to work.

She had needed a holiday, so off she had flown,
This destination perfect, for travelling alone,
Many beautiful beaches the sun’s guaranteed,
Sights that will make anyone go weak at the knees.

A different country and she’s treated like a queen,
Made to feel beautiful, something she’s dreamed,
Her marriage now over, the divorce finalised,
She’s starting another chapter, within her new life.

The barrier of not sharing each other’s language,
It proved not a problem, it caused no anguish,
For all the eye contact that they did exchange,
Was enough for their feelings to be explained.

Taking moonlit walks as they strolled in the sand,
She was led by this young man holding her hand,
He taught her the beauty of a holiday romance,
Something she certainly couldn’t have planned.

As a mature woman she has all the tools,
She knows it’s not love, she’s nobody’s fool,
No emotion involved it was just a fling,
A naughty secret she’ll always hold within.

Sunday, 8 June 2008

Caught in a trap

Perched on the stool, sipping her drink,
Catching his eye, she’s sure that he winked,
She smiles seductively towards his way,
Will today be the day he becomes her prey?

His every movement she’d watched for weeks,
Charismatic ways, women fell at his feet,
With the gift of the gab he can work a crowd,
That twinkle in his eye shows that he’s proud.

Within a few moments, he’s standing by her side,
Holding the most expensive bottle of wine,
Clinking their glasses he makes a toast,
But she’s not stupid she knows its just a boast.

Revealing he’s not married and hasn’t any kids
He holds up his left hand, says he wouldn’t fib,
No wedding ring is seen his words she can’t believe,
But still she stays seated, no attempt to get up and leave.

Fending of his advances, as he leans in for the kill,
Showing it's pretty obvious he’s in it for the thrill,
Next he makes an offer, causing her to blush,
Standing up to leave, she tells him she’s in a rush.

Now she has the evidence she’ll deliver it with the bill,
And when her client see it, she’ll know that it's for real,
This wife’s instincts that her husband was doing wrong,
Months of infidelity, had gone on for far too long.

They book her as a “honey trap” to catch their partners out,
For some it's money well spent, this she’s in no doubt,
Though she gets excitement from the job she’s paid to do,
She also feels much sadness, being the bearer of bad news.

Saturday, 31 May 2008

A little warning...

My poem is based on an article that caught my eye in a newspaper, a poor guy from Australia needed to stop at the side of a road to answer, "the call of nature", lets just say, the consequences of this little stop must have caused his eyes to water somewhat...

Driving through the long dusty road,
Suddenly feeling the urge to go ,
Why hadn’t he gone before he left?
Realising now, this might have been best.

Through lack of sleep from the night before,
His eyes so heavy, would they hit the floor?
Drinking plenty of coffee to keep him awake,
He cursed himself at this stupid mistake.

The problem made worse by bumps in the road,
How could he follow the highway code,
No choice in this matter he had to stop,
Praying to God he would not spill a drop.

He jumps out quick looking at the distance afar,
No sign of any people or sight of a car,
Crouching down by the side of the road,
He thinks he’s found the perfect place to go.

While the call of nature takes its course,
He starts to scream his voice becomes hoarse,
Something had slithered between his legs,
“What is this thing?” this thought he dreads.

All of a sudden this thing shows its face,
It lunges at him in a very awkward place,
With long sharpened fangs it holds on tight,
This Eastern brown snake, is ready to fight.

A few hours later in his hospital bed,
Doctors’ words running around in his head,
This kind of snake has venom that kills,
Lucky for him, it hadn’t learnt these skills.

Though very painful his *ahem* is intact,
He’s learnt a lesson and that’s a fact,
If ever he needs to answer the call of nature,
He’ll cross his legs and wait ‘till later.

Sunday, 25 May 2008


This poem has been based on a true story that is currently in the media. One of the children of the woman involved, was found starved to death, the other children where not far off. yet this was not about lack of money or food, this woman fed herself continuously, and was found to be well nourished , as was her boyfriend.
The reason I have written this poem, is that so many women call themselves "Mothers", but to call yourself a mother it takes so much more than giving birth to a child.

A “Mother’s” role in their children’s life,
Is to give them protection, from trouble and strife,
To keep them safe and out of harm’s way,
They’ll give them their last breath , any day.

The woman in question is a “mother of six,
Did she do the above, and worship her kids?
Without any doubt, the answer is known,
No protection for her children, was ever shown.

She caused so much suffering, her children she hurt,
Calling herself a “Mother”, this title she weren’t,
Her intentions to starve all six of her young,
Resulted in the death of this poor little one.

They must have been crying in excruciating pain,
Undernourished bodies, skin and bone only remained,
How could she have listened to her children’s cries,
As they vanished through starvation in front of her eyes?

No Motherly instincts, does this woman posses,
If she did, she would never have caused them distress,
How could this woman have fed her own face?,
But not her poor children, it’s an absolute disgrace.

Nobody with a heart will comprehend what she’s done,
The horrors of her deeds, can never be undone,
She can only be described, as rotten to the core,
Cold hearted and callous, lets hope she’ll pay with the law.

The word “Mother” is a title to be earned,
Something that many people really need to learn,
Just because a woman brings a child into this world,
Doesn’t necessarily mean, she’s got the right to use this word.

Saturday, 17 May 2008


Feeling uncomfortable, they stood and stared,
The events of the morning, causing despair,
Woken by the sound of glass being shattered,
Just six month before it had been the same pattern.

Dreading those questions they needed to ask,
For fear that the answer would be the same as the past,
As they gathered together no words were exchanged,
Just fear in their eyes, that it had happened again.

The very same policeman, from months before,
Exits the house, through the aged front door,
Looking bewildered and in complete despair,
He shouts at the crowd: “Why didn‘t you care?”

The lady that had lived there for most of her life,
Had never been a mother or even a wife,
In solitary confinement within her four walls,
She had no one to visit or give her a call.

She had passed away peacefully, within her sleep,
But no one had found her, for quite a few weeks,
The postman had realised something was wrong,
For the pile of letters had been there too long.

Her neighbours felt guilty as they stood in the rain,
Realising that history had repeated again,
Within six months, two people had passed,
Taking weeks for anyone to notice and ask.

They had all been to busy within their own lives,
Some being mothers, husbands and wives,
Never really noticing the old and the weak,
Even though these people were part of the street.

All felt embarrassed by the way they behaved,
That they hadn’t taken notice in this day and age,
It would only have taken a minute or two,
To knock on there door and say: “Can I help you?”

It was little too late for the neighbours to grieve,
They’d turned a blind eye to those in need,
If only they’d bothered to step out of their world,
And realise these people needed some help.

Sunday, 11 May 2008

The truth behind the screen

Trailing the internet one lonely night,
Just by chance he found a site,
“Find the woman of your dreams“,
It stated it was guaranteed.
Out of curiosity he took a look,
A few weeks later, he was completely hooked,
When a photo appeared upon his screen,
He felt he’d found the woman of his dreams.
Exchanging e-mails, for hours each day,
Never running out of words to say,
Completely smitten, his mind in a whirl,
He now was sure he loved this girl.
E-mailing a message that he wanted to meet,
Telling her she had bowled him off his feet,
Waiting a response his heart beating fast,
Could she possibly give him a chance?
A ping in his inbox, she had answered so quick,
Stating she was willing to meet for a drink,
Thanking God he had learnt to drive a car,
For the distance between them was very far.
A few seconds later another e-mail she sends,
Worryingly She feels that she needs to repent,
For the picture that she had put on the screen,
Wasn’t exactly how it seemed…
Unsure of what she truly meant,
She explained that the photo was a few years spent,
By this he was taken all the way back,
He needed to get his thoughts on track.
She went on to admit she had twisted the truth,
And if they met he would see the proof,
So now she wanted to wipe the slate clean,
Before he met the “woman of his dreams.”
She started to confess all of her lies,
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry,
The biggest clanger that she dropped,
Hit him full pelt like an electrical shock.
She had told him that she was twenty four,
But reality made him hit the floor,
Now revealing that she’s sixty one,
An age old enough to be his mum.
Telling her sternly he’s not impressed,
He deletes her e-mail name and address,
Realising that he’s had a close call,
He feels like a complete and utter fool.
A good thing that his mates aren’t around,
For sure he would never have lived it down!

Sunday, 4 May 2008

Prima Donna

With her long glossy hair and beauty in her face,
Clothes worn tightly, but with elegance and taste ,
Long slender legs, teamed off with high heels ,
With an air of confidence she knows that she thrills.
Stepping out of the car, she’s far too late,
But treats the occasion more like a date,
Photographers rush with cameras in hands,
Posing and pouting how a model should stand.
After five minutes, she strolls through the doors,
No thought for others she flouts all the laws,
Her lawyer is angry, his face says it all,
She’s kept people waiting the judge is appalled.
This being her third time, she’s hauled to the courts,
Never an apology or a sign of remorse,
Giggling and laughing, her arrogance is shown,
Especially when she starts texting on her phone.
“You’re pushing the boundaries” her lawyer declares,
“You’ll end up sorry, if you don’t show you care”
Looking down her nose, she states very bold:
“I pay your wages, YOU do what you’re told!”
Admitting defeat, he knows what comes next,
For this judge takes no pity, on those who disrespect,
A sentence in prison, this she is told,
To be served continuously with no chance of parole.
She faces the judge with sheer disbelief,
Defiantly yelling :“You should be kissing my feet!
I’m in all the papers, don’t you know who I am!?!”
Turning to her lawyer she shouts “DO SOMETHING MAN!”
With a satisfied look her lawyer walks away,
Secretly happy with the results of the day,
Not bothered that the case didn’t go his way,
He got more satisfaction from the look on her face.
She’s dragged away screaming, makeup a mess,
Providing the ultimate photo for the waiting press,
She thought she was untouchable as a famous star,
Now she’s incarcerated, it didn’t get her very far!!!!

Monday, 28 April 2008

Secrets and Lies

The love of her life, she would always gloat,
Now these words stuck in her throat,
Husband and wife, certificate signed,
Not taken lightly, she was sure at the time.

His infidelity was hidden underground ,
Until this moment no proof could be found,
But maybe in hindsight she tried to deny,
What was blatantly obvious in front of her eyes.

His business trips that came so often,
Staying in hotels, of names he’d forgotten,
Constantly working, or missing his train,
The same excuses became so lame.

With bags packed she walked out the door,
Glancing just once at the house she adored,
No longer prepared to accept his deceit,
Head held high she disappeared down the street.

A few roads away, a telephone rings,
The lady excited by the news that it brings,
“His wife has left him, he is all alone”
She screamed out loud once replacing the phone.

How was she to know that his wife would arrive,
Searching for answers to secrets in his life,
As a tarot card reader she could give some details,
But his naughty little antics she knew far to well.

For she was his mistress, second best in his life,
Nothing but a secret, she was hidden from sight,
All of a sudden she feels a big fright
Will he cheat on her, like he did to his wife?

Sunday, 20 April 2008


Still fuming from the night before,
When I chucked him out and slammed the door,
Stood Staring at the cardboard box,
The very thing that caused this strop.

“You’ll never do it” he had laughed out loud
“A million pounds , I’ll bet you now
You wouldn’t want to break a nail
It’s a job for a man, and not for a girl”.

Frustrated to the point of tears,
Patronising words flow through my ears,
He says a girl can’t do the job,
I’ll teach him how to curb his gob.

A few hours later and job complete,
Time to sit and relax my feet,
Happy with the end result,
Soon it will be time for me to gloat.

Later that evening he knocks on the door,
Still laughing from the night before,
“Be a good girl and make me a drink
I‘ll have it sorted in a matter of a wink”.

Entering the kitchen, his face says it all,
New washing machine whirling , completely installed,
Full of apologies he feels such a fool,
For doubting my abilities and causing uproar.

A little deception is all that it took,
Searching the internet to get me off the hook,
Finding a plumber and paying the fees,
Allowed me to take credit, for the installed machine.

Sunday, 13 April 2008

Something she's not

Appointment booked, at quarter past nine,
Everything in order it was nearly time,
Face mask placed, only eyes appear,
Will she recognise and disappear?

In she enters the same old Grace,
No sign of difference on her face,
Extending my hand I greet her warm,
Stomach in knots, it’s causing a storm.

Once she’s settled within the chair,
Gums are numb, and drill prepared,
Work is started upon her teeth,
She feels no pain, just tugging beneath.

Last few touches, and mouth complete,
Passing her water to rinse and spit,
Can she be happy with all I’ve done?
Or wish she’d booked with a different one.

Glancing in the mirror, she stops in her tracks,
A toothless face is what stares back,
Trying to speak, but mouth still numb,
Dribble is all that can run from her tongue.

Once she was my dentist, but never trained ,
Finally Caught by the mistakes she made,
Thrown out permanently, brought to a stop,
Changing my profession, I took her job.

When Grace now smiles a reminder is seen,
All teeth extracted, only gums will gleam,
Her previous patients all got this sight,
When looking in the mirror they got the same fright.

Her pretence as a dentist, she caused so much pain,
This profession I qualified, certificates I gained,
Her x-rays did show, extraction wasn’t needed,
But Oops I’ve lost them, no evidence to prove this.

Friday, 4 April 2008

Why do it?

Speeding through the country lane,
Windscreen wipers pushing through the rain,
Swigging drunkenly from can in hand ,
No thought for others as accelerator is slammed .

Weaving with danger at speed that could kill,
One hand slumped casually over the wheel ,
No seatbelt worn , it’s a safety device
Does she not care, it could save her life?

Approaching a turning she gets such a fright,
A figure from nowhere, comes into her sight,
Too late to brake her speed’s way to fast,
Next thing his face is pressed into the glass.

Frozen in terror, she hears herself scream,
Panic sets in she struggles to breathe,
Windscreen broken, her heart starts to race,
She can’t help but stare at the blood on his face .

Grabbing her mobile she calls for the police,
Directions are given, though so hard to speak,
Sitting there quietly with head in her hands,
Legs feeling heavy as if glued to the ground.

With help appearing she stumbles from the car,
But what her eyes see brings so much more,
Windscreen unbroken and no face appears,
The man in question has disappeared.

“You reported an accident “the police do say,
She tries to explain, but no evidence remains,
Police arrest her, she has failed the test,
Far to much alcohol was on her breath.

In the far distance a figure appears,
Watching intently and shedding tears,
No one can see him it’s been twenty years,
His just a shadow that disappears.

For he was a driver that enjoyed a drink
Despite the warnings he took the risk,
He drove this same country lane,
But one night his life was never the same.

They say he went instantly, with his wife and child,
Too much alcohol brought an end to their world,
Now he haunts the place that they died,
Stopping others in the hope they survive.

Saturday, 29 March 2008

If only......

Police cordons off the end of the road,
Ambulance parked ready to go,
Firemen poised with hoses in hand,
Neighbours filling their watering cans.

With baited breath they stood for hours,
Black clouds of smoke, withering flowers.
Eyes fixed firmly towards the door,
Wondering if he’ll appear at all.

Finally he stumbles into the crowds,
Slightly dishevelled, and making no sound,
He looks in shock, he needs to rest
Sipping a drink is thought what’s best.

Firemen enter through the back gate,
With caution and care they hesitate,
The sight that meets them comes as a shock,
Backing up slowly, not wanting to stop.

For all the years they attended this street,
Destruction and mayhem is what used to greet,
Trees and fences blackened to ash,
Neighbours panicking, and needing to dash.

This time, devastation is not on the list,
Nothing in danger or burnt to a crisp,
Finally he’s done it, the first time in years,
All around him break out in big cheers.

Sausages and burgers are sizzling well,
The barbeque aroma is all that you smell,
First time in years he’s managed to cook,
Reading the manual is all that it took!!!

Monday, 24 March 2008

A woman's treasure

Sitting in comfort, sipping her tea,
Manicured hands resting on her knee.
General conversation we pass between,
When payback time is all I dream…

Nodding and smiling with pretence in mind,
The trap was set, it was nearly time,
Making excuses I grab for the phone,
Needing to leave her completely alone.

Stood in the kitchen with ear to the door,
Rustling sounds as she searches my drawers.
Holding my breath, my heart beating fast,
She lets out a scream, I cant help but laugh.

The thief was caught, though it took some time,
For weeks she stole what was rightfully mine,
A lesson that she needed to be taught,
Was brought on by her - she was solely at fault.

The mouse trap I found in the D.I.Y store,
Came in handy to place in the drawer,
Put just inches within her reach,
Enough to make her jump off her feet.

The secret stash of my chocolate treats,
Had been going missing for many weeks,
Now I’m sure they’re safe and sound,
Anywhere I choose to put them down!

Thursday, 13 March 2008

His Special World

Hurt and anger that comes from inside,
Frustration confusion that can’t subside,
Trying to comfort but pushed away
A blank look upon his face.

Our world is so different within his eyes,
Words that are spoken not recognised
People around him are pushed away,
Being alone is part of his day.

Senses much stronger than yours and mine,
From a touch in his hand to hearing a noise.
A taste on his tongue and different smells
Just adds confusion within his world.

Beautiful, big tearless eyes,
Emotionless actions are no surprise,
Obsessional rituals are what keep him safe,
Doing them over and over again…………..

Friday, 7 March 2008

Friends are for life

Reach out and take my hand,
Let me show you I understand,
I’ll help you through troubled times,
Show you that I’m by your side,
When you're angry I’ll allow you to shout,
Or even when silent I can listen out.
And if you're hurting or need to cry
Use my shoulder and tell me why.
Have faith in me and learn to trust,
As a friend this is a must.
Through thick and thin I’ll stick with you
As I know that you will too.

Monday, 3 March 2008

Endless Road

However did this happen?
What reason could you give?
For this kind of dreadful life
Now you have to live.

Where have all your family gone?
With security of a home,
Instead you’re living in solitary,
No place to call your own.

Does anyone ever miss you?
Wonder how you are?
Perhaps it’s something you’ve done
To make them go so far.

All your hours are taken
Walking through the streets,
Trying to find a warm place
That’s safe for you to sleep.

And when those hunger pains
Start to take effect,
You plead with passers by for help
With the utmost of respect.

How long will these streets
Be classed as your abode?
I’m sure you’ve asked this question
But the answer never shows....

Saturday, 23 February 2008


She stood and looked him in the eyes,
Her gaze was so intense,
“I’m sorry” were the only words
That came to his defence.

He grabbed her hand, pulled her close,
Asked what he’d done wrong,
Wondered how he could put it right
To make them get along.

She knew that deep within her heart
The time was drawing near,
How could she tell the man she loved
She did what he did last year?

Pulling away from his big strong arms
She then starts to explain,
Their five year wedding anniversary -
She’d forgotten it was today!

With a glint in his eye, he gives a sigh,
And tells her not to worry,
Last year she wouldn’t forgive him,
But today’s a different story.

So with this there’ll be no grief
He wont have to pay the price,
For once again he forgot the date,
But this time like his wife!

Thursday, 21 February 2008


Do you wonder if your choice was right?
Did you try hard to put up a fight?
Was it that easy to just walk away?
And start your life over again.
Would you notice her face in a crowd?
Look around when you hear her sound?
You don’t really know her, she's in your past
But these are questions she needs to ask .
You have a connection which is hard to believe
It runs through bodies, it's called your genes.
Until these answers are put to rest
You remain two strangers within her head.

Sunday, 17 February 2008

What makes a poet??????????????????

What is a poet??????????????????
For anybody who has visited my Blog page, you’ll notice that it consists of just my poems. but I wanted to add my own comments to a discussion - well it was more of a debate really - with a few people that I have had this week over “who is a poet”, and my goodness it seems we all have very different opinions on this topic.
I personally like poetry to be individual and to suit the poet’s own style and represent their own idea of poetry, not anyone else’s ideology of what it should be, I also like poetry to be something that I can relate to whether it’s serious or humorous. However, saying this, I have read some poetry form others who have a completely different style to mine, and I’ve enjoyed them, despite the stark contrast between our style.
This is where the debate comes in. I feel that anyone who chooses to write poetry for any expressive reason has a right to deem themselves a “poet”. Where is it stated in stone that just because you have not spent years and money studying poetry you can not call yourself a “poet”? Everyone has their own style and reasons for writing poetry, whether this be as a “hobby” or in the hope of publication.
There is such a wide variety of individual tastes and preferences , and in order to make sure we are not all projecting our voices to the same audience we all need to differ. For every person that dislikes a piece of work there will be someone else who takes the opposing opinion.

“OH NO YOU'RE NOT . . .”

“You're not a poet.”
So I’m told,
Very harsh
And oh so bold.

“Have you read the books,
Learnt the craft,
Revised for hours?”
This I’m asked.

“A hobbyist
Is more your name,
You’ll never gain.”

While answering this
My reply is kind:
“I write from the soul
And not just the mind.”

So with this
Debating went on,
Comments I made
Came twice as strong,

No apologies
For how I write,
I’m now more determined
To put up a fight .

“. . . OH YES I AM”

Saturday, 9 February 2008

A life is taken

A young life is taken
The headlines explain
A family in anguish
The pain will remain

Questions unanswered
How will they cope?
Their dreams for his future
Gone up in smoke

Top achieving student
His reports all say
Worked hard at college
To gain his grades

Anyone who knew him
All said the same
He avoided trouble
By walking away

The police enquiries
Came to and end
They arrested the culprits
Finally detained

At the sentencing
The story unfolds
A theft of his mobile
The jury are told

Ten years in prison
For each of the men
Will they learn their lesson
Or do it again?

Friday, 1 February 2008

The Look

Walking past the jewellery shop
She grabs his hand and makes him stop

Pointing towards the sparkling ring
She asks him what he truly thinks

At first glance he thinks it's nice
But then he sees the frightful price

“Oh my god” he starts to say
His body trembles and starts to sway

She looks at him with pleading eyes
And gives the sweetest, biggest smile

And with that he writes the cheque
A bead of sweat runs down his neck

Once again she's got him hooked
It only has to take that look

It happens every single time
Just one smile and he can't decline

Monday, 28 January 2008

Macho Man

Roses and chocolates
Diamonds that gleam
Is every girls wish
For a valentine dream

She may deny this
And say it's not true
But part of this
Depends on you

A big "macho man"
Your friends all say
Football and rugby
Is more your game

So she will keep quiet
And not rock the boat
For fear that she may
Make you choke

This wont stop her wishing
Of what could be
Hoping that one day
She lives out her dreams

Prince charming and his white horse
Is not what she needs
Showing your feelings
Is more guaranteed

If you truly love her
And know she's meant to be
Why not take the plunge
And get down on one knee?

Friday, 25 January 2008


A gasp in her breath
Chill in her spine

That anxious feeling
Is over a nine

Her eyes are darting
Body starts to jolt

Those mental rituals
It's hard to cope

The involuntary urges
She has to give in

Her mind control
Always wins

Will people notice
Stop and stare

Or carry on as normal
Hopefully not care

Little soldier

Angry and shouting,
Challening moods

Frustrated feelings
Come out the blue.

Where can he look?
How can he hide?

People around him
There's too much noise.

He grabs my hand tighter
With fear in his eyes,

But can't explain
The reasons why,

"I want to go home"
He pleads and he cries,

A daily routine
In this poor boy's life.

Parent's wish

A parent's wish is for them to see
Their childrens' lives happy and trouble free.
To grow into adults and live out their dreams
And see what the future is meant to be.

When the time's right and they fly the nest,
Their first child laid upon their chest
They will gaze into their baby's eyes
And think their parent's words were wise.