Poetry, Uncategorized


Capital of Cool,

Londoners Rule.

Isle of Wonder,

Percussion like thunder.

Hold on to your hats, sit tight,

Its going to be one hell of a night.


Rolling green hills,

Dark satanic mills.

Metamorphosing stage,

Dance of a digital age.

Five rings forged from iron ore,

Spectators sat in silent awe.


Her Majesty jumped,

Dizzee Rascal pumped.

Isambard Brunel,

Industrial revolution hell.

Churchill, Bond, Edward Elgar,

Arctic Monkey’s played guitar.


Soldier & Suffragette,

All jonied in pirouette.

Sixties groovers,

Shakers, movers.

Don’t forget two World Wars.

Choreography, lyrics & scores.


Literary passion,

Six decades of fashion.

JK Rowling read aloud,

Mesmerised the crowd.

Sick children snuggled into bed,

Smiles beaming & tears shed.


Shakespeare, Berners-Lee,

Fireworks: a sight to see.

Tubular bells rang,

Deaf children sang.

Chariots of Fire with Mr Bean,

What an athlete he could have been!


Olympians marching past,

Swelling nations’ hearts.

Each & every athlete

Poised, ready to compete.

The gigantic flag raised,

Unique individuals praised.


Brightly lit speed boat zipping along,

Fourteen hundred miles, still going strong.

Beckham presented the final flame,

To Sir Steve Redgrave of rowing fame.

He arrived in the stadium to thunderous applause,

Greeted by builders, shouts and roars.


Memories of the past,

Dreams that will last.

Danny Boyle’s imagination

Could inspire a generation.

Macca, Englands favourite dude,

Made us sing along, Hey Jude.


Lord Coe spoke: ‘Hip Hip Hurray,

The Thirtieth Olympiad begins today!’.

Burning petals raised to the sky,

Unified inferno burns up high.

Sport makes brothers of all of us:


Poetry, Uncategorized


Soggy, foggy, boggy and wet,

Met tells us it’s the wettest yet.

Mist and drizzle, wind and rain.

Summer’s ruined: what a pain.

200 millimetres of rain did fall,

We haven’t been down to the beach at all.

Beaks and feather’s is what we’ll grow.

With wobbly, webbed bits between each toe.

As ducks we’ll all be thrilled to bits;

Happy as pigs swimming in s**t.

Poetry, Uncategorized


Injured knees,


Pick up speed,

Take the lead.

Helmets on,


Paris, Rouen,


British Brad,

You’re the lad.

Zoom, zoom,

Come on, Froome!

Their ambition:

First postition.


Your team mate.

All through France

Riders chance.

Muscles aching,

Lycra chafing.

Breakneck pace.

A podium place.

Mountain top,

Don’t you stop

‘Til you’ve got

The yellow top.

Pedal more.

Spills galore.

Saddle sore.

Bonjour! Bonjour!

Who will win this year’s Tour?

Poetry, Uncategorized

Kinsale Arts Festival July 2012

Virtue and Vice, art by the sea.

Classical music, philosophy and tea.

Children enthralled by stories in caves;

Cellists nearly swept away by the waves.

Dickens, Shakespeare, we don’t mind the rain.

The food, the drama, please play it again!

An inflatable theatre held crowds that encore-d

Wise words from Tim Smit and David Putnam, the Lord.