Sickly sweet and pungent, the heavy scent of Gaulloises taints the air, as, with cloudy eyes, the grim, grey skies of Cardiff watch over the gathering tribes of Wales and France, as they move in
His name? Does it matter? He's West African boy. His life knows no pity,little comfort or joy. Kidnapped! Transported! And sold as a slave! In the 21st Century, such a way to behave!
The departure lounge at Toronto's Pearson International airport was extremely crowded.Fog had delayed many flights and hundreds of passengers had been left stranded.The weather,however,had lifted
This is a short poem inspired by a recent Panorama tv programme which examined the illegal planting of palm-oil in Indonesia and the subsequent effect on the local ecology. The Dove.