Posted in Love


charity work abroad
good deeds : improving the lives of others.

self esteem abducted
excluded from happiness,
forever, or so it seemed.

On day one, she smiled, unknowing, welcome its only intention.
On day three
she conjured circumstance to magic –
her bedroom: her bed. For almost a week.
Long ago
faded and vivid
insistent and careless
memory’s dye leaks understanding.

Beautiful, vivacious, voluptuous.
abroad and alone
a good deed
improved self esteem of another.

Less handsome
less pedigree
more surprise : more gratitude.
The finite now –
days and year
top and left, in brackets on a whiteboard –
no forensics : past or future.
Gone, gone forever.
What might Burns have written,
home is the daughter, home to the Home Counties.

At home,
in the Home Counties, no one would know.



Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.