Poetry, Prose, Books & Banter



Everything looked strange

                 the day the colours changed.

As Black turned into White

                 Dawn lifted her skirts and ran out of sight.

Mother Earth stood her ground 

                 while the sun gently hinted,

“Life would be much better 

                   if it was rose-tinted”.

Tossing pebbles on the sand and laughing

                   the Sea came dancing

                                   Wild Horses prancing.

The Wind and the Sky 

                  both began to cry.

After running through the wood

                  they at least had understood

                                   there’s no going back

when White has turned to Black.

I have been writing poems and stories since I was a child.  After a long break of writing, but not keeping, poetry, this was the first that I completed and held on to.  It was written in the early days of recovery from the depression and anxiety that had begun at the end of the Millenium year.

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Spiders don’t bother me – as long as they stay silent, invisible in the corner of the room. The jackbooted invaders that march bazooka-backed and helmeted, across floors and walls; red-bereted paratroopers, ‘Daddy Long-Leg Airborne Division’: these I do have a problem with. If they dare to invade and threaten my personal space, I hereby give fair warning – I will subject them to a prolonged blast of my ‘Sonic Stunner’ scream, before having them summarily dismissed to a cold, dark corner of SOMEONE ELSE’S GARDEN!

Stories come in many formats and genres. Mostly I have written short witty 'comments', like this one, Flash Fiction and short stories of 1 - 2,000 words.  I have had one short story shortlisted for a prize and published in the anthology, but until now have rarely submitted anything for publication.

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I have two books completed and self-published at the moment.  In fact one is in its' 'Second Edition'.  A third book is in the final editing stage.  I am seeking a publisher for that ...



is a book of poetry written and collected over several years while in recovery from a deep depression and severe anxiety.  Although it sounds like it has the capacity to be dark and gloomy, it's not.  In fact inspiration for the poetry came not from my mood, but from various activities I became involved in as Therapy - Stone Carving, Writing and Walking.

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Wani is a very young camel who was unfortunately born with only one eye.  When he is old enough, the man who owns his mother swaps him for a goat from the herd of a wise man - Balthazaar.  That first night away from his mother, Wani can't sleep.  Hearing him start to shout and jump about Balthazaar comes out to investigate.  Turns out Wani has just seen a bright light burst into the sky ...

The rest, as they say, is history.  A christmas story for children from the slightly unusual perspective of the wise men. 

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This is my 'Work in Progress that is in the final stages of editing.  I don't want to give too much away right now - but I can tell you it's a 'Crime in Poetry' (which may turn out to be its published title)!  When I sat in my studio on a November day with a bright sun in a blue sky and a temperature of 30 degrees - FAHRENHIET!!  The poem was about the illusion of that beautiful sunny day when it was actually freezing.  Thing is, part way through another illusion broke into the poem.  The illusion of a smiling, friendly man - who had just committed a murder ...

Having simply put the poem in a drawer for several years, the curiosity got to me.  Who was this man?  Who had he murdered? And Why?  

The only way to answer these questions seemed to be to carry on where I left off, so I began exploring the story through 'episodes' written as villanelle poems just like the first one had been.

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Welcome - to all my scribblings!!

Please take your time to read and enjoy these  Poems and Stories.  I am happy to share most of them.  Books, and some longer stories  are downloadable  in full for a small fee.  Other content: if you want to copy it, remember copyright and ask, or at least acknowledge where its come from.