Poetry of 2021


In Time

there’s me.

I’m there

in time

to emit

a mite,

a glimpse

of the 






Poetry of 2020


Erased by Time

St Mary's Church, East Leake.

The dark grey stone

washed blank with time

speaks without words

to souls that pass by.


“Here lies a life once lived

where you live out your own.

Here lie the bones

whose feet once trod

the paths you take each day.


Here is yet another one

who walked, no choice,

towards the light,

through those gates

that keep out none.


But beneath the earth

lies silence.

No lessons learnt

can rise from there,

to ease your path,

to save you pain

or warn you what you face.


His friends bought me from local mine

and had me shaped and carved

to keep alive the legend

of the one they buried here:

his name, his dates,

the verse that suits him best.


But years have passed,

and so have they.

Those who cared for him have gone,

their words all washed away.


Those things he did,

his finest acts, his cruellest deeds

have long-since been forgot

And all that remains of him is me,

and I am weathered smooth.


” Look hard at that blank grey stone,

Incline your mind to listen to

The silent words it shares

With those who care to hear.

“Live for today,

your time will pass,

no stone can make you stay.”

Song of The Sheep

Let’s go out, get some fresh air.

Let’s have a day that’s free from care.

Boris has let restrictions ease

So now we can do as we please


Each must do what’s right for each.

So let’s go mad and find a beach.

Give the car a damn good run

And get ourselves a dose of sun.


We’ll be sitting out in open air,

Covid won’t survive out there.

It surely can’t hurt all that much

If we cram in close and eat our lunch.


Sandwiches with egg or salmon paste,

And bags of crisps: just ditch the waste.

We’ll slap on layers of cheap sun cream

And eat pork pies and live the dream.


No. Forget all that, let’s join the folk

Marching to support that bloke.

Don’t know his name, but what the heck,

I think some cops knelt on his neck.


We’ll wear our masks and join the crush

And get right in so we can push and shove

and punch our way right through

and help pull down some dumb statue.


Tears of the bereaved

We shed our tears and heave our sighs

For those we lost without goodbyes.

As you flock like sheep to mock and dance

On the graves of those who had no chance.