Category Archives: Poems

Good evening, and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem.

Before I get to this week’s poem, I wanted to let you know that it’s only a couple of weeks before the Poem that I wrote for The Hidden Needs Trust is launched on their website. I haven’t actually seen the finished video yet, but in conversation with HNT’s founder, Rachel Goodfellow, she assured me that the video, and the poem are amazing. I will let you know as soon as it is launched.

Now, don’t forget that I need suggestions for five poems for me to write about for my “Poem Challenge” – these poems will make up the Friday Poems numbers 70 – 75, and will appear in Volume Two of the Friday Poems which is launched next year. So get in touch and give me your suggestions.

But now, on to this week’s poem. The inspiration for this poem came to me recently after I  had flung myself down a snowy hill on a piece of plastic, and following a conversation with my counsellor about stopping focusing on the future, and trying to stay in the here and now. Between these too things, I created this week’s poem.

I hope you like it.


Let Go

Let go.

Lie back.

Enjoy the ride.

For once, put

Doubt and fear aside.

Go faster, faster!

Faster still!!

Keep momentum

By sheer will.

Feel the wind

Rush through your hair,

Release yourself

Without a care.

Live in the moment,

Floating free.

No trying, or struggling;

Simply ‘be’.

No thoughts,

No worries.

No rush,

No hurry.

Just timeless now

In this one moment,

Where nothing matters;

Nothing important.

Just you being you,

And that is all.

Forgetting life’s

Incessant call.

Watch life drift past

As clouds in your blue sky day

As you enjoy this moment

And drift away.



The Friday Poems – Volume One is now available to buy! Get it from in paperback by clicking here: , or for Kindle by clicking here:


Good evening, and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem.

Ironically, I’ve been in a real rush to write this poem. This isn’t the poem I was intending to write, but then I got an idea in my head and had to go with it. The other poem will make an appearance at some point.

Anyway, this Poem was inspired by a recent visit to a local Pizza place with a game based logo and name.

I hope you like it.

(The Poem – not the Pizza place)


Fast Food……?


What’s the use of “Buy one – get one free”,

If you are doomed for all eternity

To stand and wait, with innards rumbling

While some gormless fool stands there, fumbling

Lost and dejected at the till

While they try to calculate your bill.


When exactly, did ‘Fast Food’ slowed?

It’s pace now equivalent to a Three-Toed

Sloth, appearing statuesque to you and me;

This now the fate of the once revolutionary

Convenience, quick food game-changer –

But now you risk the real danger

Of expiring fromstarvation or malnutrition

Because they can’t find your order

On their system.


This is despite the invention

Of the internet and apps

So all of us, fast food loving chaps

And ladies, can keep our oversized seating

As our meals are delivered

To our homes for eating.


It’s sold as convenient

And a real time saver;

Order straight from the App,

You can almost taste the flavour!

But all I taste is the tang of bitterness,

As my pre-ordered take-away

Becomes a real mess.


And the food itself

Is not to blame.

Like me, it’s a pawn

In the long, drawn-out game.

In store the display

Says that my order is ready,

And though there

Is not any kind of steady

Flow of customers through the door

My order has disappeared

Perhaps for evermore.


They apologise (again)

And start all over.

But then more delays

at the shift changeover

When a hitherto unseen

New face appears –

And can’t find my order,

Just as I feared.


While I wait,  I have the chance

To learn a new song.

It’s only got three words in it:

“It won’t be long”.

By now I’m weak

And emaciated

As my overdue meal

Is much anticipated.


The monitor lists

All orders, so

I knew my Pizza was ready

Forty Minutes ago.

How long does it take

To box a Pizza up?

It takes much longer

It’ll be time to shut.


The staff have disappeared

Out of sight;

Perhaps they have all

Decided to take flight

For fear of yet more eternal shame

For F*cking up another order – again.


But wait- it appears!

Brought by a supervisor

Who sadly it seems

Is still none the wiser

When it comes to remembering

What I’ve ordered.

The ineptitude here could almost be applauded.

Then she can’t find the code

For a large cola bottle

At which point, I just want to throttle

Every staff member – at the very least twice

And then cut them into pieces

With the Pizza slice.


I feel like I’ve aged a thousand years,

And, fighting back frustrated tears

I pay my money and take my food –

Though now, I’m not really in the mood.

This fast food experience

Changed day into night,

And now I’ve lost my appetite.



The Friday Poems – Volume One is now available to buy! Get it from in paperback by clicking here: , or for Kindle by clicking here:




Good evening, and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem!

This poem came about after a bizarre conversation during a training session I was giving at work. It’s funny how much inspiration can be found in office chat!.

Anyway, before you read this, please be rest assured that I love my cat very much, and he is a gentle and very lovely addition to the family.


Gummed by the Cat



My cat’s a bastard,

And that is that.

He’s nice and sleek

But should be fat;

For his preferred method

Of formal greeting,

Is to bite me hard

And then keep eating.


And it isn’t as if

He’s hardly fed;

But he seems to prefer

My flesh instead.

Indeed, he takes pleasure,

It would seem

To hear my anguished

Pain fuelled screams.


He lurks at home, waiting

Like Clouseau’s Cato

Silently watching

For me, just so

That he can launch

Another attack


From front or back.


The final straw

Occurred at half past two

One night, as I stumbled

Back from the loo.

It was high summer,

So fairly hot

And I wore nothing;

Not a jot.


From the shadows

He watched me,

As I wandered past,

Then leaped –

And bit me in the arse.

To secure his hold,

Four paws clawed veins

And my face contorted

In excruciating pain.


I ran back

Into the bedroom –

Gave my lady a real shock;

As she thought

For one moment

That I’d sat on a sock

Which flapped from my arse wildly

As I ran to and fro.

But it was that evil cat

Who just wouldn’t let go.


Round our boudoir I ran

With my arms in the air

Screaming at the pain

From my chomped derriere.

My legs bled profusely

As I thrashed and I flailed

I even tried twerking

But alas, to no avail.


He clung on to my buttocks

As if for fear of death.

Making condensation on my skin

With his vicious feline breath.

His fur made me itchy,

His hot breath made me retch.

If he was a dog I could’ve ended this

With a quick game of fetch!


Eventually, he did release his grip

For reasons as yet unknown.

And sauntered off to resume his place

On his “King of bastards” throne.

I was left there in tatters

Upon the bedroom floor.

Through streaming tears of anger

I promised myself, “no more”.


After that, it was curtains;

I’d had it right up to here

With puncture wounds to both my legs

And blood-loss from my rear.

So hissing and spitting,

Off he was took

To the vets for my vengeance

By hook or by crook.


I had all of his teeth taken out

Every one without sorrow or regret.

Each one for a scar or a wound inflicted;

Wounds I would never forget.

And just for fun

I also had him de-clawed

Thus reducing his arsenal

To velvet soft paws.


And since then life has been better

I don’t live in fear any more.

Sure, I still get attacked

But it’s no skin off my back.

Yes he waits for me still

Behind every door

But only being gummed by a cat

Isn’t half as sore!


The Friday Poems – Volume One is now available to buy! Get it from in paperback by clicking here: , or for Kindle by clicking here:

















Good evening, and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem.

The words to this poem came to me after watching some of the news reports about the School shooting in Parkland, USA and the understandable outcry that followed.

What is terrible is the fact that those in government, and other organisations with vested interests, have still turned a blind eye, and refuse to accept that guns are a cancer for America. The fact that one suggested solution was arming teachers, just shows how removed from reality these people are.

The lives of the innocent are not worth doing anything about. They just get thoughts and prayers.

This poem says how I feel about that.
Thoughts and Prayers

Thoughts and Prayers

For lifeless stares.

For upturned tables,

And blood-stained chairs.

For innocence taken on the spot

By random, indiscriminate shots.

Thoughts and prayers

For the politicians.

Voiceless yet funded

By guns and ammunition

Sold under the sacred Bill of Rights

To kill those we place within our sights.

Thoughts and prayers

For moms and dads.

For all the moments

They’ll never have;

No graduation, no wedding bells,

Or whatever the future

Might have held.

What might have been will never be known,

Because their kids aren’t coming home.

Thoughts and prayers

For unanswered calls.

For screams that echoed

Through school halls.

For lives on a normal day torn apart.

How do you begin?

Where do you start

To try to somehow make some sense,

Of an act that does not have defence.

Thoughts and prayers

For the reaction

To teach Kindergarten kids

To be a distraction

So that if a gunman should attack,

They can delay them,

Or hold them back

If even for just ten seconds or so

To give others time to flee and go

Somewhere to safety, or get aid.

“Let’s practice kids! Then have Lemonade!”

On gun law the politicians will not yield,

So long as children form human shields.

Thoughts and prayers

For sisters and brothers.

Lost to fathers and to mothers.

Their voices no more will be heard;

Not. Another. Single. Word.

Their shape in space and time cries out,

And roars through shattered hearts throughout

The remainder of their loved one’s lives

As their memory cuts just like a knife.

Thoughts and prayers

Will not do much

To warm those bodies

Cold to touch.

They will not revive the lifeless figures

Destroyed by a finger on a trigger.

They have no answers to provide,

And cannot quell the rage inside

Which rightly spills out from the hearts

Of those whose lives were ripped apart.

Thoughts and prayers

Should still be said;

Said for the living,

Said for the dead.

And when the thoughts

Run out of words,

And all the prayers

Have all been heard,

Perhaps we’ll become doers

Instead of sayers,

And step out from behind

Those thoughts and prayers.


Good evening, and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem.

I wrote this poem after taking the photo of the two swans ignoring the “Keep off the Grass” sign. I wondered what their conversation might be about it – if they had one about it.

Do animals have conversations? We know they communicate, but do they “talk”? I think it would be cool if they did, especially if they have the type of conversation us humans have! And based on that idea, and the photo I took, I thought I would write this poem.

This is what I came up with – I hope you like it.

Keep off the Grass

Two Swans paused
At the edge of the path
To read a sign that said
“Keep off the Grass”
The first Swan said
“Just look at that –
Another control measure
By the bureaucrats”

His colleague remarked
As he wandered on,
“What are we supposed
To put our arses on?
The water’s ice-cold
This time of year;
Stay in it all day?
No bloody fear!”

“The ducks don’t do it,
So why should I?
You’ve seen them,
With their tails feathers to the sky.
And don’t give me all that
‘They’re just feeding”
You know they do it to stop
Their bums freezing.

“And besides”, his friend added
By way of report,
“Dogs walk on the grass
Without a second thought.
And walking isn’t all that they do,
Because you can’t take two steps
Without finding some poo.
And I’ll tell you this for nothing
A turd’s not nice to meet
When all you’ve got beneath you
Are two large webbed feet.

“So what’s the big problem?
We don’t do any harm.
(Though I did do a stretch at Abbotsbury
For breaking that blokes arm)
We are an icon of serenity;
The image of style and grace
And all we want
When our bums are cold
Is a nice dry resting place”.

“So whoever put that sign up
The council, or residents association
Can think again when it comes to us
As we’re loved across the nation.
We’re Royalty amongst water fowl
The upper class elite
Just ignore the pungent smell of poo

That’s coming from our feet”.

“So thank you – but no thank you;
We’ll walk on grass if we please.
No matter how many signs you may put up
They may as well be in Chinese!
In fact, that’s not a bad idea
You will have much more luck
Buy dissuading some nosey common fowl –
Those annoying peeking ducks!”

The Friday Poems – Volume One is now available to buy! Get it from in paperback by clicking here: , or for Kindle by clicking here:


Good evening and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem, which comes to you slightly later than usual.

The reason I am late is that the fact that I was due to post a Friday poem today (Friday) had slipped my mind for almost all of this week – right up until about two hours ago, so I have been rushing around trying to compose one.

Thankfully, I remembered a business meeting I had earlier in the week, where (as everywhere) I mentioned that I wrote poem and specifically a Friday Poem. Someone at the meeting suggested that I write a poem about personal space, so that is what I have done.

This has been a rushed effort, but I hope you like it.


Personal Space


 Get out of my way! Get out of my face!

Haven’t you heard of personal space?

Back away now, stop right there

You’re way too close – how are you not aware

That you’re practically sitting right on my lap

Have you not heard the phrase “mind the gap”?


The last time I checked I wasn’t a Siamese twin

But if I wanted to be, let me begin

By saying that this isn’t how I thought it would be

With you being the other half of me.

Do you realise that is my leg you’re feeling?

And your personal scent has sent me reeling

Without the joy of escaping your gravity

Because far too close you orbit me.


So take a moment, take a pill

Take stock of your surroundings – and chill!

If you are trying for a better view

Please heed this advice I give to you:

Use your senses – touch, sight and hear

To tell yourself when you’re too near.


Say “excuse me, would you mind

If I got a better look? – ever so kind”

Or even better, “Pardon me,

For intruding in your proximity”

Such thoughtfulness will serve you well

When you – nimbly, like a Gazelle –

May have to carefully navigate

Areas where space ‘ain’t great.


The alterative – ignoring anyone that’s near you

Won’t make you popular or endear you

To those into whose pockets you are trying to climb

Because it is seen as a personal crime.

It is not the way to make new friends

As getting too close will cause offence.

That being said – an attractive face

Can always invade your personal space.


So come on people, heed the rule

Getting too close just isn’t cool.

Do you like strangers getting closer

Who sir? Me sir? You sir! No sir!

Be respectful of each other

Keep your distance, save the bother.

In an ever-increasing human race

It’s important to remember personal space.


The Friday Poems – Volume One is now available to buy! Get it from in paperback by clicking here: , or for Kindle by clicking here:


Good evening, and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem.

Before we get to this week’s poem, I am incredibly proud and excited to be able to tell you that “The Friday Poems – Volume One” is available NOW to buy for your Kindle eBook reader or Kindle App on your tablet or phone. Here is a link to the listing on Amazon:

I do hope those of you who purchase it, enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing the 52 poems contained within.

Anyway, on to this week’s Poem:

I’m fairly confident that this week’s poem will leave many of you with questions. I politely ask, that you do not come to me for answers – as I have none that will give you comfort.

All I will say is that sometimes, where a poem ends is not necessarily where it was originally planned to end – and (more importantly), that myself as a writer and you as readers of my poems should not worry ourselves too much with such things. This poem works, and – between you and me – I like the fact that I might make you say “eh? what?”.

So, here it is.

I hope you like it.


I turned, and saw the tiger there:

It’s stripes and claws; it’s soulless stare.

Our eyes were locked in an embrace

As we stood there silent, face to face.

My heart was pounding in my ears

And I’m sure the Tiger smelled my fear.

It’s true that terror is an aphrodisiac,

To a five-hundred-pound Bengal big cat.

I tried to show power, to hide my fear:

But bravado evaporates when a tiger’s near.

Through waves of horror my mind was swept

As the tiger slowly towards me stepped.

Its mouth open slightly – revealing teeth lined jaws

And I marvelled fearfully at its paws

Whose size alone really did astound

Yet touched the floor without a sound.

Closer still, came this terrible cat;

I was a mouse caught in its trap.

With nowhere to run, no chance of escape

I realised I was about to meet my fate.

The tiger leapt, and time ran slow

I watched it coming; nowhere to go.

And as death bit deep with savage jaws,

I wished I’d locked my bathroom door.