Treacle {walking}


I want to blast the horn

And bang timbrel and drum

I want to blow the trumpet

To shout Jesus is Lord in my life


Inside, in my heart, I can dance

Proclaiming from the rooftops

Shouting out with joy

Resounding through the air


And I am a believer

I know that it is His chest I lean back on

It is His arms around me in protection

It is Him that strokes my hair


But I am stuck

Stuck in this mud filled swamp

Some days I can barely breath

Let alone shout.


Just like the psalmist of old

I cry out in the darkness

I plead for this distortion to leave

Over and over I cry out His name


I see the people around me

With their bubbly, friendly smiles

And yet I can’t connect

A treacle barrier persists


One day I shall jump up

I shall leap in praise of the Lord

But today I thank God He is with me

Keeping me safe and sound


I am being stretched but not shattered

There is a strain on my heart as I fumble

In the dark to move to His rhythm

I am sitting in the middle of a storm


I have no ship, no boat

Not even a rudder

I am tossed around with the waves

But I surrender all to Him who knows best


Today I choose to live, to live in Christ

Today I choose to sit in this mire

Until He lifts me up, lifts me out

And places me once more on the solid rock.

…wrestling in prayer for you, that you may stand firm in all the will of God, mature and fully assured. — Colossians 4:12


avoiding the cup

I just couldn’t pretend

that all was well

“tickety boo”

and I avoided the cup

I wanted to scream and shout

and jump up and down

My prayer life suddenly

precisely vile and lent

thank God he is bigger

than any self pitying

tantrum I could raise.

I thank God that he is bigger

in love for me than I


I thank God for the guy

and for flick on the back of my head.

I thank God and crawl

to turn over the page


granny’s garden


the dying daffodils reminded me

of a long ago tended garden.

Each flower had a place

Reds on the left and yellow to the right


Granny pulled their heads off

and stomped on each stalk

frenetically each day she roamed

the rows of yellow daffodils


grandad could kill nothing,

not even a slug so he slunk

behind and gathered the leaves

tying them all together

with ribbons of concern

weeping as the willow by the pond.


I used to think granny hated

like hated every thing

but I think she was broken hearted

for the man she knew before


Grandad’s heart was aching

for all the men he’d known

who laid down their lives

in the war to end all wars


Granny played a lot of things

taking the role of winner

She hated the name granny

Preferring formal Grandmama


But I loved this statue of

ice cold tendrils

I was never scared like the others

She brought fear to every one

But I heard her pray once

For me and R and J

And for the two H’s in her life.


Two broken hearted people

Living in a box

Unable to talk or even to listen

Forever bound in silence

On reflection of the pond’s surface

Of a childhood long ago

The only way they could converse

Was having red on the left

And dying daffs on the right.

train of thought

In olden times when trains were slower

a plume of smoke filled the air

wheels turned at a rate of iambic pent.. meter

and poets sat in carriages pipe or pen in hand

rhythmic duh dums filled the body helping poetic charge

and epic tomes of railway journeys

created whilst travelling the land


try writing on today’s trains with the warp speed

finding a table facing premium forward aft

full of beer cans and half eaten buns

children encouraged instead of left at home

youths so black in clothes and spirit


the man behind crunching thru salted crisps

the young boy playing loud war games with his shadow

the girl in front her cleavage    beguiling

is the closest to any meter you’ll find

no there will be no bestseller written today


rhubarb stalks

stretch ever upward

poison to my soul


willow bare

raindrops ponder

fall to earth


bird’s chatter

sweetly sing me

safe in tree


dark cloud descends

raindrops follow

wet walk in mud


bitter wind

crushes my hope

spring gone again


hermetically sealed

from nature through

glass we see


elephant grass fibrillates

wafts purposelessly

view yet inhibits


cloud shape

eagle lands wide

sprawls wings royally


roof subsiding

tree growing

nature returns it all to earth


spring cherry blossom

pink clouds

float in puddles


black turf melts in fire

gran ponders

ashes and dust all


autumn leaves –

black in spring

in flurries caught in drains


rocking chair cat

white as snow

clouds pass unnoticed


resounding breeze

ruffles cat

black against dark sky


hair whips eyes

wind rustles trees

birds take flight


touches raindrops

cold on skin

dark sky by night


daffodils bend

snow drifts across

smells cleanly cold


cockerel crows

dawn breaks through

spring’s happy day


blossom bright sunshine

chickens peck worms

breeze gently passes


birdsong sweet

child snags coat

birds take flight


evening sun coats sky

yellow orange red

cold descends bright fire