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Category Archives: Poetry
The Garden
Satin dew on morning lawn Birds wakening – chatter As if the news Busied spider making home anew Worm steals through a bed As if intruder Startled squirrel chasing Darting swifts teasing As if a game Tranquil world so beautiful … Continue reading
The Hardest Loss
And all I can hear are voices Calling! That name in different tongues. From the harsh to the soft, The Irish, the Scot Friends everyone. And all I can see are faces Staring! Incredulent, amazed; Known a year, some a … Continue reading
A Question of Guilt
We want justice for the guilty The innocent to go free We want justice for corruption The innocent to go free We want justice for victims The innocent to go free We want justice for the downtrodden The innocent to … Continue reading
Its never too late to start again
Surprising what you’ll do when you’re at the end of your tether, When you’ve kicked so hard that there are holes in the leather. When your palms have been dug by each nail of your fist All reason replaced by random and risk. When there’s nothing … Continue reading
Just possibly
Somewhere still, there lives a man For whom no human angusih can, Move him to feel that just perhaps There is a way to not be trapped Between the growing conflicts of Those different nations backed by God Who claim … Continue reading
In the Distance (based on Prodigal Son)
You were watching all the time I was wasting my life Spending money Searching for fame Pushing away those who dared to show me love Taking everything I could, but not the blame Though you gave your life for me … Continue reading
The Art of Searching
Remember as a toddler How you discovered building blocks, Finger-painted Mollie And plastacined your frocks; That strawberry jam was pretty Mixed with butter on some bread And ‘though lampshades made lights pretty, They looked better on your head. Remember … Continue reading
The War Hero
I see you looking, looking, staring Then, in denial look away. I sense your disdain, or is it disgust, As you turn to go on your way. Now, you are glancing, at window beside you; No thought to buy … Continue reading
Anon…and definitely not Rupert Brooke
If I should die, Think only this of me: That in some corner of a foreign field There lies a plagiarist.
The Poet Layabout 