The kid from London’s back alleys
Tagging along with his brother
Selling flowers with panache and aplomb

Lost to the eyes of his mother
Locked by the deadly machines
Rebelling against the system

Defying the ledge
Spinning close to the edge
Wild wobbler on roller skates

Expelled from the town
He followed the dusty old roads
Winding away to the distance

Poverty’s child made us smile for a while
As the world came tumbling down

People laugh at the shuffling clown
But the magic is in the pathos


Two Limericks

there was an old man in Darjeeling
he lost all his senses and feeling
but he read in a book
it makes the world look
really good when you watch from the ceiling

he spent the rest of his life upside down
with a smile on his face, not a frown,
he never felt faint
people called him a saint
but his blessing was being a clown


the Irish love to play on the bodhrán drum
when they had enough whiskey
it’s sure to get frisky


such shadows come and fall on me
from joy to sorrow, like a switch
i fight to turn the light back on
i don’t know where the joy has gone

a single note in some old song
a word not said
a thought unwise
i try to see where i went wrong

the tender sweetness
on a breeze
can turn my heart
and make me freeze

and then i go and sit a while
and lean against a steady tree
and wait to smile again
and see

like the earth we reach for warmth
and the thirsty kiss of rain
all things in nature
are the same

it’s all a mirror of ourselves
dimmed and scratched
things unclear
and things not seen

this constant flow
of dark and light
is just the deep souls day and night
and the turning of the year

Well! Alice!

i sent a kiss to Alice
it floated in the air
i have no idea where it went
she may have been at the palace
it may have caught in her hair
i only know i sent it
it wafted about, and i lost it
for just a little while
but it reached her i think
i heard a tune, saw a wink,
it made me suddenly smile
and then i knew, however it flew
i would see her soon enough
it doesn’t matter if she is late
whatever they say, I’m the Hatter
the clocks will have to wait


how sweetly jasmin scents the air
its petals gleaming in the night
against the dark stones of the tower
my lady never looked so fair
as she looks tonight

leaning in her window there
her gentle hand against her cheek
with tender breezes in here hair
my lady never looked so fair
as she looks tonight

i know that she is thinking now of me
her lips curved in a smile of love
and she is dreaming peacefully
my lady never looked so fair
as she looks tonight

i could watch her hour by hour
passing time in loves delight
in moonlight she’s the loveliest flower
my lady never looked so fair
as she looks tonight

time will not fade her lovely face
an endless beauty shines within
a light, illuminating grace
my lady will remain as fair
as she is tonight

My Obsessions

this is a found poem – it comes from my tag cloud on this blog and so it consists of words I use a lot in poems……….


My Obsessions.


Ancient bards and books,
a breeze full of butterflies
above the Celtic hills.
Cities, clouds, the dance of death,
a desert dragons dream,
dreaming dreams with evening eyes
of fateful fantasy and fire
with firelight in the forest garden
where a girl with a haiku
plays a harp and sings
of heart and home and horses.

Imagination kindles lakes,
leaves, land and love,
love, always love,
magic memories of moons
moonlight, morning music.

At night, the oak overshadows
oceans of passion
paths of peace and perfume,
poems of rain and ravens,
the rocks, the river,
roses by the sea.
The sky a silver smile
when the snows come,
then the song of spring,
sunlight and starlight.

Time towers above the trees.
The wings of winter spread again
above a woodland made of words


following the lane, walking up the hill

talking of our dreams, ambitions and hopes

yes, it was moonlight, yes, we were young then

this memory, so strong, always returns


i wonder why a momentary walk

comes back so clearly again and again

we wandered less than a mile in the dark

it held pure perfection, yes, it was love


yesterday the thought brought me a smile

today it hurts enough to make me cry

an image etched on my brain and my heart

yes, i grow tired remembering you




A Question of Numbers

In one year we travel four billion miles around the Sun

Without even stirring a limb.

We dream fifteen thousand dreams,

Remembering almost none.

How significant those that we do.


In a lifetime we may see nine hundred New Moons

Twenty-five thousand sunsets,

Twenty-five thousand dawns.

How many do we really see?

How significant those that we do.


How many times might my love smile at me?

How many times will we kiss?

How many dreams can we make come true

Before time flees and is gone?

How significant those that we do.


If I thought I’d be gone tomorrow

What would I say and do?

Nothing significant


The light comes and goes across the earth;

A clock hand that sweeps us away.


Butterflies, unaware




The Revolutionary Smile

stepping from an office
(for that ‘illegal’ cigarette)
in my shelter by the bank,
i saw a stranger, singing in the rain
followed by another man
gold from head to foot
i may never see their like again
i saw a crowd of people
follow them, all in funny hats
smiling and laughing
the bells rang on their ankles
the bells rang in the steeple
and the traffic had to slow
where they were going
i may never know
they must be tourists
in this magnolia painted town
where no one ever smiles

i remember summers
and places long ago
when we all did this,
a part of daily life,
and children danced with us
lit by torches, late into the night
life was a festival
before we all forgot to smile
is this a revolution?
where do i sign up?