Poems

The working man 

The working man


Hands of tarnished black

That yield the anthracite vein.

Carrying heavy history

Of passion blood and pain.

And yet a song so emotional

With brother a harmonic throng

In the deepness of the valley

Is born a poets song.

For chiseled in the darkness

The sound of hope and light.

And the anguish colliers passion

With hwyl and gusto bright.

Out of the pits of comrades

One hears the engine sound.

The heart of a choir

The family underground.

Black Friday 

Black Friday

Black Friday black Friday
What does it say
Sanity lost
As the cash we pay

Sell sell sell
Get what I can
Attack the old lady
The selfish man

What is our ethos
What about us does it say
As we forget our humanity
As prices we pay

What about family
And things about love
Kindness and peace
Lick branch of the dove

Want want want
What do really need
Black Friday consumes us
As we fuel the greed

What if we invested
In family and friends
And reflect on our wrongs
With foes make amends.

Blackness darkness
Devours the soul
The blackest Friday
In deepest dark hole.

An anti Christmas carol
Where we forget the old tale
Let’s assess our priority
And at Christmas not fail

What’s worth more?
A material thing?
Or to reach out to each other
And with brothers to sing.

Forget all the wealth
And open your sight
Forget black Friday
And turn it white.

Stubbornness 

Remote control where are you?
Hidden in some obvious hole

The control fairies

Achieve their goal
Frustration set

And search in on.

Blaming everyone

Where’s it gone.
Unsettled now

Can’t let it be

You look in the fridge

But won’t touch the TV.
The principle it there

It called a remote

Getting angry

At your TV’s gloat
I will not turn over

By touching that box

The bloody remote

Will me, not fox
Then at last that

The frustration pass

The remote control

Was under your ass. 

Word Smith 

Word Smith 
Words so powerful

The sharpness of swords

Or blunt and pounding

Like hammer yielding hoards

They can lift you high 

Or break you down 

Evoke a smile 

Or conjure a frown 

Stick and stones they say

Can break your bone

But names will never harm 

Say that to the bullied teen alone 

Say it to the depressed

Or anorexic girl 

Or fat body boy

Who words they hurl 

Words have power

To set one free 

Or from life to hide

And make you flee. 

I give you the choice 

As smiths of words

On anvil of speech 

To forge the swords

A sword for truth

Cutting away the wrong

Or swords of hate

Creating an evil song. 

You are the custodians

With your undecided speech 

To curse or bless

With words you reach. 

The insomniac 

Oh sleep where art tho

Tiredness my friend

Sleep a long lost acquaintance

Tiredness, friendship to the end.

The ticking clock

Never to stop,

The silent bed

Where you flop.

1234

You can count to infinity

Awakeness and tiredness

A forceful synergy

Then it happens

Your final sleeping calm

The absence of consciousness

Then the abrupt reality alarm.

​Rainbow through the clouds

(Dedicated to the cotswold youth singers) 
Dare to hope

And dare to be, 

Different to what

Ignorant people see
Don’t lose your passion

While those around you frown

Press on and upwards.

Don’t let the haters get you down.
For when you’re young

Dare to dream.

Be the cat,

That’s got the cream.
Buck the trend.

Challenge oppression

But do it with love

And no aggression.
So in a world,

That’s lost it’s way

Remember these words

This is your day.
And whilst there are acts

of horrific crime.

Take note,

Of these words in rhyme.
You are our tomorrow

And our today.

Through your hope

Let your music play.
Sing of rainbows

Through troubled clouds.

Sing to the hopeless

Gathered crowds.
And let not,

Any sadness linger.

For you are the voice of hope

A Cotswold Youth Singer.

If I was born 

If I was born 
If I were born in a land not like here

Or far away in country not my own

What would I see? what would I hear? 

Would I have friends or be very alone. 

If I knew not peace and only war

And domination was the rule of law

Would I be the same old me

Would I still be filled with bigotry 

If my plight were different 

My privilege gone

Would I be me

Or would I see the wrong. 

If my life were threatened 

And horrors were my life

Would my morals go

Would I pick up the knife. 

But I sit and watch the idiot box

Safe from harm with no Brain engage

Spouting opinion 

With total rage

Damn immigrants 

Coming here it’s hell 

You know what I’d say

Go home I would tell………. 

Stop stop stop again

Is not your life

A lottery gift

Where you were born

A chaotic shift 

What if you were born

In a different place

Somewhere far

A different race. 

Wales Germany China Iraq 

Would you still

The same opinions bark. 

Are we not on one whole earth

Why because you were born in one part 

You get more worth 

When a child dies in foreign field

No different level of pain does a parent yield. 

What is race but a dividing line

Would I be more attuned to pine 

One race I see when it comes to birth

All the same, human race, born on earth. 

Priority 


The world did end

And the sky did fall 

The sun burnt up

Gone was life, mankind and all. 

But that wasn’t the thing that made me cry

That all life was gone and mankind did die. 

My great lament and tear filled eyes did rub

The saddest depth was the shutting of my favourite pub

Social media share

Social media share

Please share this emotive message
Or type a big amen
It’s one of those manipulative posts
That get people again and again
The message behind the message
Is not one of love
It’s about how many shares can I get
And not about anyone above.
For is there a social media god
That only to likes responds
Who won’t act to save a child
Until one million he con’s
Wake up its about the advertising
Or vanity at its worst
Don’t believe the shit
If you don’t share you will be cursed.
And remember before you share it
Ask. Could this be true?
For what harm could it do?
Even if it’s a load of poo?
Well what if I took a photo?
Of an innocent man
And placed the caption
Post and share please
Because this cretin broke into my van.
Post and share post and share
Cos if you don’t… Means you don’t care.
And you will lose all you hair!!
Hold on I’m bald already.
Then the penny drops with all its might
It’s just Facebook bollocks
And a load of shite.

The gardener 

Tending green shoot

Nurture them grow

To hight of hight

From low so low

A bit of sun

A bit or rain

Are you the gardiner

That grows in vain

Your blessed weeds

That look so fine

Not those flowers

For which you pine

Green fingered dichotomy

More metropolitan son

Try as you might

With your little spray gun.

Effort and trying

Give him his due

Another failed season

£300 to B&Q.

4157U

4157U
Thank you brother 

Your life laid down

Rest in piece 

Servant of crown

Your precious life

We weep

Brother now you sleep

Safe from harm did keep 

Fellow brother of the thin blue line

A Bobby’s life

A Bobby’s life

He walked the street
And pounded the beat
Where did it take you
With black booted feet?

You started so young
A journey with rain
From naivety close
To innocence lost lane

What things you did see?
Not to be unseen
Some thought you hero
Others thought mean

A uniform only
Emotionally inert
No one saw
The inside hurt

Apart from your loved ones
And children perhaps
And close friends and colleagues
With strain when you collapse

The road is so long
And baggage picked up
Where do you store it
When you fill up your cup

You didn’t do this!
You you didn’t do that!
They didn’t see you
Under the tall Bobby’s hat.

When you made the difference
To that lost lonely child,
And dealt this the rapist
And paperwork you filed

For it is more than a uniform
Oh servant of the crown
When after that fatal
You’re called back to town

Haven’t you got better things?
Is constantly said
You may be right
But you can’t see in my head

And when it’s all over
At home in the calm.
You don’t see my cupboard
With lots of citalopram.

So when you next see the bobby
Walking the street
He’s been down many roads
With his blacked booted feet.

The drunken undress

wp-image-961333995

The drunken undress.

You climb the stairs
Stumbling up to top.
You realise you left the light on down
But you’re to pissed to stop.
The bedroom door, you crash through
Without control it swings so fast
All the shit behind the door
Across the bedroom it is cast.
Then comes the unbuttoning ceremony
The blighters are stuck tight
And you wobble unstable
And with your trousers fight.
A pop and ping
And drunken sing
The battle for the trousers win.
Then comes that pivot
Trousers half way down
Youve still got your shoes on clown.!
This is the point you tumble down
And there half clothed do stay.
Sparked out until the day.
And in the morning
Head in a vice
It wasn’t the drink that made me feel like this
It was last night’s curry and rice.

All the presidents horses

 

Trumpity dumpidy
Said he would build a great wall
And threatened great big things
Like North Korea would fall
The start of a joke
Funny at first
Reality strikes
And realities worst
Fake news, good news
Propagandas best
Is this happening
A world wide test.
Laughing no more
Not a laugh or sound
The most powerful man
The button
Has found
A ring of gobels
With words about jews
A modern parallel
In Mexican news.
Don’t say nothing
When surrounded by foes
Champion the little boy
Pointing out
The emperors new clothes
Tell a lie often enough
They’ll start to believe
If this gains momentum
Where us will it leave?
Never compromise morality
For a powerful lie
For if we do
That’s when many will die!

The performance

The performance

Tick tock time goes by
To quickly to that place
You know where I mean?
Where in reflection we face.
Looking back
Thinking where has it gone
Thinking what music I made
If life were a song.
Was it a ballad
Or Opera or lament
A musical or concerto
My life what song was sent
If I was the performer
And my life a stage
Were the audience blessed
Or filled with rage
When the curtains
Are about to fall
Did I perform to the best
Or fall short and stall.
And when it’s all over
And critics write reviews
Did I win
Or did I lose.