Go Girl

Another spring clean of files and found another lost poem.

When you’re feeling low
and can’t see a way
To get rid of the dark
that just seems to stay.

If you close your eyes
and with these words say
“I’m brilliant, I’m amazing,
I’m perfect in every way”

Go easy on yourself,
don’t be so very hard.
You’re intelligent and beautiful
so give yourself a yard.

It may seem like the ocean
is trying to swallow you up.
Stop kicking, just relax
and your naturally float to top.

I know it’s far easier
to say instead of to do.
Michelle, you are awesome!
I have total faith in you.



About a Girl

Another lost poem I’ve recently found. I really need practice.

An angel from heaven
she’s sent down to earth.
Placed into her mother
that then gave her birth.

Each step in her life
from toddler to present
like a flickering candel
with bright incandescent

Now a beautiful girl,
pretty inside and out.
Whenever she’s close
my heart starts to shout.

My mind starts to wonder
of the things I would do.
But my firing synapsis
is overloaded by you.

I’d pull you in close
so your heart I could hear
and hope that my touch
doesnt bring you fear.

My fingers I’d run
through your dark black hair
and when our eyes meet
for a minute we’d stare.

The rest you decide
thats the way it should be.
A price with an angel,
give my soul as a fee.

Time and a tree

Time. A commodity that has much value and one that I’m rich of having. Though I’m poor and sad for it I’m sadder still that the fruits of my time are unwanted. Time, like a tree overfilled with ripe peaches but treated as if they are rotten lemons. I often wonder where the fault lay and so many times have I blamed myself. But how can a tree asking for nothing and willing to give all that is good be so neglected. Every moment of the day and every day of each year I wait to be picked. My biggest torment is worry that the taste however sweet is simply undesired by those around me. People can admire a tree without a taste for its bearings but if all the tree can be, is a peach tree. What hope of it being picked when those in the garden would rather watch me grow and take the fruits of another. Only a few from a neighbouring garden know the joys I bring and for their time. Their fruit. I am forever grateful of the fill.

Musical Moving

In awe of your dance
your song and your sound.
The mysteries of heaven
have finally been found.
Each note that you play
moves Angels to Earth.
Your sweetest of voice
we do not deserve.

Now that your talent
is filling the air
lifting the spirits
of those in despair.
A place amongst stars
waits twinkling for you.
Coz of what you are
and each thing you do.

Keep colouring our lives
between darkest of lines.
Your voice, the paint brush,
creates in our minds.
Each memory a landscape
of musical notes.
Each word from your song
a glimmer of hope.

Your minds world

A rushed poem for a friend.

There are no walls that trap you. No prison bars that keep you away from the world. Instead you are the cage, a cage you can never escape and always take with you. But are you? Are you not free to imagine? Can you not take yourself to wondrous places or even magical worlds that only exist in colourful minds? We are all rooted somewhere but what shame if we are rooted by the limits of our own creation. Let’s escape from the world where the pressures bring us down. Where people strive for wealth and power. Where the rich bathe in pure water but don’t realise the bath is a cooking pot and where the poor look to the stars and trip on their shoelaces. Let’s go to a world where every breath is like our first and the air is crisp and clean. Where the yellow of the sun meets the blue of ocean to create mists of green. We can run across fields of heather and fall in a heap, gasping for breath taken by the laughs of joy. And when the sun hides from the moon let us talk for hours and wish on the many stars that float across the darkened sky. You can never be trapped because your soul is free to wonder, free to think and free to imagine all possibilities.

Corridors and Memories

Why after all this time do you still walk the corridors of my mind? Corridors that go for miles but however far you’re always in vision. I might not see you but shadows flicking in the light that remind me of how you moved. The way your body swayed when we were together and how your chest quickened at end of passion.  I wander into different rooms and I know you’ve been there. The smell of your perfume taunts me like a hidden spirit. A ghost sometimes seen but always felt. Each room you’ve left an unwanted gift. A memory, some beautiful and others distorted and horrifically ugly. Moments of our lives recorded in my brain that for a moment make me smile unknowingly. For a little while I’m there again. So, content. So, joyful. Completely unknowing it would eventually come to an end. Then I’m knocked to the floor and sucked into the ground where I fall endlessly. It’s my most loving memories that speed my journey to hell. I try to lock doors as I pass but when I wander back they seem to have unlocked again. That spirit working its supernatural magic in my mind. I shall continue to spring clean my corridors, continue to lock the doors and maybe, just maybe this spirit that plagues me will tire.

Tree Brief

A number of us were given a brief to write an inspirational story about trees. Here was my attempt. I may have to remove it, should it get used.

We live in a miraculous world where against the odds life exists. The tree plays a part in this epic show telling the story of beginnings, growth, partnerships and life. To think that a seed could morph into a giant tree is breath taking but it needs the ESSENTIALS to start. Without food and water a seed will never start its journey and will lay dormant. So, a creator of dreams tends to the seed and helps the roots to push deep. With a solid foundation, a tree can GROW, its leaves basking in the sun and its branches reaching for the sky. Working together in SYNERGY and in a nurturing environment the tree gives LIFE to all around. It becomes a home to others, gives us air to breathe and sceneries that light up memories. When you think of a tree, don’t be complacent. They live as we should. Partnerships grown by working together, fuelled by mutual understanding and established on fundamental knowledge.

Forgotten Poem

People in the world,
not many like me.
Who act on compulsion
to call a girl pretty.

But sometimes something
special and unique
can jumpstart hearts
and shine on the bleak.


How do I explain
my good intent?
When sceptism creeps
and intentions are bent.

A few meaningful words
to describe a view.
A picture of heaven.
A picture of you.


Think ill if you wish.
Think me a strange guy.
I accept I’m different
that I can’t deny.

My heart is where
all hearts should be.
The edge of my sleeve
born wild and free.


I end my words
that hope to lay bare.
I like your blue eyes.
I like your cool hair!

I’ll remember the day
I came across Lauren.
Her beautiful face
will not be forgotten.

The Joy of Drink

A terrible poem to explain my recent weekend.

Days of grinding torture
that come to blissful end.
My wet and blurry eyes
staring down a U-bend.

The beginning of the night
started unawares.
The following day I’m sleeping
half way up the rigid stairs.

Not the greatest look
to be greeted at the door.
The estate agent bewildered
watching me crawl along the floor.

That horrible day has passed
and now I feel…… OK.
I’m sitting in a Starbucks
watching lives fly away.

I order the ultimate roll
the Sambucca fighting tool.
The first thing I’ve eaten
since drinking like a fool.

A choir of singing angels
start chorus in the shop.
A pretty worker puts my roll
up on the table top.

Her brownish, reddish eyes
make my weekend float away.
My torturers memories
seem to be put at bay.

So if you’ve been hitting hard
the weekends choice of drink.
Come sit and eat at Starbucks
while having a little think.


I’m one of two
who fights each day.
To take the bad
from your blood away.
We soldier on
without an ask.
With quite a few
surprising tasks.
Filtering blood
to make it pure
and help control your
blood pressure.
We activate
your vitamin D
as you lay in the sun
and by the sea.
Your blood wouldn’t
be so very red.
If the cells were made
by another instead.
So treat us kind
while doing our job.
Put healthy things
inside your gob!