Imagine a future mapped by throw of dice.
Impending crossroads: which way should she choose?
No lesser evil, neither option nice.
So much to gain, but scared of what’s to lose.

Just hesitate and through the cracks she’ll fall,
For in this limbo lies a damaged soul;
And quixotic thoughts achieve no end at all,
But hurtful indecision takes its toll.

Ricochet from head to heart the conflict goes,
Two scales locked in balance battle so
That parity cancels out its foe.
The weights are placed: which way will they go?

With augury’s sixth sense and conscience clear,
The Canaan she is seeking will appear.

Poetry, Uncategorized


Poetry, Uncategorized


Savings all gone down the drain

Credit card refused again

Bailiffs knocking at the door

Demand my home and then some more

Pension stolen by the bankers

Theiving, grabbing lot of wankers.


No money, house or job: no life

The neighbour’s messing with my wife

A nicer bloke than him by far

But he drives better car

A twenty-twelve four-by-four

Mine’s a hatch-back with two doors.


Leave her, divorce her, that’s what I ought’er

But I’m scared she’ll take our daughter.

Since I’ve left the gravy train

Life will never be the same

Our good Lord, He takes the piss

There must be more to life than this?

Poetry, Uncategorized



Morning lids flutter

Sensing empty space

Abandoned by you

 * * *



Dulls pain but not sensation

Frozen, but conscious

 * * *

Being a fresher to the blogosphere, this is my first attempt at taking part in a poetic ‘prompt’.  The prompt comes from Haiku Heights and the theme was ‘conscious’.  Actually, it’s strangely addictive writing haiku and far from being a challenge, I find the strict syllabic rules oddly helpful.  The haiku I’ve posted are my two favourite that I came up with today – I couldn’t decide which one I preferred as they are completely different!  I’ve really enjoyed reading the other submissions and the diversity of thought prompted by a single idea . . .


Poetry, Uncategorized


Us fighting men have had enough

Of patrol and combat in the buff.

Making us go nude en masse

Just to save Prince’s Hairy, sorry, Prince Harry’s ass.

Facing the Taliban au naturel

Didn’t serve us very well;

The local folk are not impressed

We think it’s time we all got dressed.

Sand in every nook and crack

We really need our civvies back!

Tally-Ho! We’ve been courageous,

Please, no more parties in Las Vegas.



(if this doesn’t make sense please refer to my poem ‘Tally Ho‘!)

Poetry, Uncategorized


Free-Fall Felix is such a dude,

But he has a secret, so it seems,

It’s that he eats no other food

Except for spicy beans.


How do you think he pulls those feats?

With gravitational force?

It’s all to do with what he eats,

And the side effects, of course.


Imagine guzzling beans all day:

A job for any stunt-man.

In this mono-culinary way,

He harnesses jet-propulsion.


A special space-suit was designed

Not to fall apart,

Polycarbonate and lined,

To with-stand a mega-fart.


Attaining terminal velocity,

His aim to break the speed of sound

By farting with ferocity,

Before he hit the ground.


So you think you heard a sonic boom?

We’ll you’re wrong, my friend,

That ear-splitting volume

Came from his rear end.


It gave him thrust and trajectory,

And a smelly spurt.

The fastest that a man’s ever been:

Mein Gott, how it hurt!


They made him land in the desert

Why was that d’you think?

There surrounded him an unpleasant

And quite revolting stink.


He’s said that was his final trick,

But what he really means,

Is his stomach’s gone hyper-tonic,

And he’s bored of eating beans!



(you may notice a little borrowed rhyming from Spike Milligan’s Silly Old Baboon!)

Poetry, Uncategorized


Hollow waves break crowned in silver surf,

Relentless tumble onto glistening shores.

The damp expanse of mirrored sand

Reflects the bold blue autumn sky,

As the tide ebbs gently out

Leaving glassy pools behind,

Tempting chilly hands and shrimping nets

Into their hidden depths.


Seaweed squelches green between the toes,

Curious fingers glean crustaceous gems:

Mussels, limpets clinging tight,

Brittle starfish, hermit crabs.

Sea life treasures scooped in buckets,

As the tide flows gently in

Reclaiming the mini oceans as her own

And sandy feet head happy home.

Poetry, Uncategorized


What a blow to English prudity,

Another case of royal nudity.

Prince Harry makes the headline story:

Snapped in all his Ginger Glory.

“Naked billiards, my favourite game,

Stripper Spike is my name.

I’m under orders to go starkers,

And you’re a bunch of nosey parkers.

Tally-ho! I showed my knob –

Only trying to do my job”.

Military spending has been reined in:

Fatigues have been thrown in the bin.

The M.O.D. has stipulated

That defence cuts will be implemented,

Troops are being packed off to war

With guns and tanks, and nothing more.

Deployed to Helmand, Camp Bastion

Without a stitch of clothing on

Tally-ho! Take off your kit,

Don’t our fighting lads look fit?

Winning over hearts and minds

With birthday suited bare-behinds.

On patrol in the altogether,

Perfect for the Afghan weather.

The sight of British Soldiers’ bits

Will scare insurgents out their wits.

Mind where you sit, please keep it clean,

And don’t forget to apply sun-cream.

Tally-ho! Taliban,

Victory in Afghanistan

Poetry, Uncategorized


Dear Mr Miliband,

The thing we cannot stand

Is the nasal way you’ve got

Of talking like you’re full of snot.

So at this party conference

Before imparting your deliverance

Take a cotton handkerchief,

Red spotted is advised, first sniff,

Then give a loud and mighty blow

To augment and enhance your rhinal flow.

It will make the Labour Party’s day

To be addressed in a de-congested way.