We are the masters of light, bringing in the anticipation of a cool breeze. Old beams drip with sensations of sour milk. We must be thankful. Remember the surprise of a…
A poem for Valentine’s Day.
Love is not all hearts and flowers. It is about the everyday things we should never take for granted.
A poem reflecting a childhood in a West Cumbrian mining community.
The Art of Naming Hats
A gathering of anonymity.
Sameness stared out from under blackened brims.
Banksman, Bogyman, The Fu-Fu Gang…
I am January – an anthology of backstreet pubs and lost poetry
I am February – writing stanzas on the inside of lavatory doors
I am March…