T’was

T’was the week before Christmas, when all through the land Not a creature was safe from austerity’s hand.   The P45s were placed in the OUT-tray with care, While Chairman …

Word Whore

I am writing poetic pieces on the fleeting joys of family life. Whilst missing out on my own family. And being a moaning haggard harridan when I do see them. …

Frankly, Mr Hinkley

I am not keen on the UK government’s decision to go ahead with a hugely expensive, contaminating nuclear power station when clean, low-cost, renewable energy seems so much more foward-thinking. …

Feeling Ivor Cutler-ish

Been sharing some lovely unintentional Ivor Cutler poems. These make me smile. “Slippers For Feet” “Five Cakes. Eight Cakes. Served With A Jug of Cream.”   If you have never heard any Ivor …

Zombie Training

There was a zombie woman on my early morning train. Her face was a skeleton. Smooth tea-coloured skin stretched over dry bones. Milky blank eyes of faint cataract blue. Colourless dry wisps of …

Titanic Woman

Sinking. That’s what I’ve been doing. Not writing. Not running. Not working. Not looking after myself. I’ve had long blank months where I could have written that novel/children’s story/poetry/comedy script/blog. And …