Poetry

Some of my poems rhyme, some don't. The style of the poem is decided by the poem itself. It decides how it should be told.

Autumn Walk in the Park

Long-abandoned nests now revealed in mournful Birch and Sycamore's exposed branches set stark against an ashen sky,

After the Snow

Now, the magical restored to everyday, but loses something in the returning.

Changing Voices

Changing Voices was published in United Press anthology "Free Spirit". Hope you like it.

Fifteen Minutes

Inspired by the wannabes seeking their 15 minutes of fame on the plethora of reality shows that now fill the TV schedules

Winter Fog

An ethereal fairytale world where diamond droplets drip from bejewelled branches

Memories of a Childhood Christmas

Mum and me I remember, walking home in dark December, would peak in windows keen to see, who was first to put up their tree.

Success

How do we measure success?

Paradise Lost

An ocean of Scilla sways a cerulean campanology, peppery scent lifted and carried on a whisper that drifts through this broadleaf Sylvan setting.

W.L.T.M.

Hey, ‘ow yoo doin’? You looking for a man who has everything? Then I’m your guy.