The perils of poetry

Stood on the platform
But missed the train.
So many words –
Too much writing again.
Late for dinner.
I’ll try harder next time
To catch the train
And forget the rhyme….



Too short a time they
knew you. Family shattered.
Lives from three to two. 

You were so tiny,
small. Not long enough in their
broken world at all.

Through their eyes you live
on. You took a different road,
sung a different song.

Two perspectives on a table for one

There’s nothing worse than a table for one.
Tuck myself into a corner and hide,
I’ll try and loose myself in my book,
Order first thing I see
And eat too quickly.
Head down, I can hear
Whispers, feel their pity.

The best thing is a table for one.
Tuck myself into a corner and watch,
I’ll concoct wildly untruthful stories about other diners,
Order what I want
And eat at my own pace.
Head high, my night out with me,
A smile on my face.


Always been a wallflower
liked the colour grey.
Blending in, hiding, 
preferring it that way.

Always been quite quiet,
didn’t like to make a fuss.
Just watching from the sidelines
was really quiet enough.

Always then, quite a surprise
when turning on the news.
The shy one in the corner,
belting out the blues.

Now she’s playing stadiums, 
a massive sell out tour.
She’s shining and she’s loving life
Not quiet any more.

So here’s to all the silent ones
The watchers and the shy.
Don’t let them shout you quiet –
rock the world with your reply.

An altercation on paper

I want to destroy you with words.
I needed help but you,
You offered a verbal slap,
Shocking, stinging. 

I want to cut you with sharp phrases.
I was meek but you,
You were burning bile,
Destructive, cruel.

I want to hurt you with type.
I was exposed, but you,
You tore me straight,
Acid, fury.

I willl immortalise you in your bitterness, 
Black on white,
My ink spilling your seed,
Your black, bad blood.

You will have my pity.
And nothing more.

A grown-ups take on growing up

I’d ignore all the jeers about spots and braces,
Not getting served in pubs and places.
I’d ignore the boys and their silly games,
The endless nasty, cruel names.
I’d ignore getting bullied about the colour of my hair
Or what clothes I had to wear.
I’d ignore being taunted as the swot,
Just caring about what grades I got.

I’d be true to me,
Be who I wanted to be.
Not let living in a small town
drag me down.

What’s normal anyway?
Didn’t realise half the kids in class were gay.
That the teachers liked a smoke,
Pepped themselves up with an occasional line of coke.
That the bike shed ‘bikes’
Only did what they did behind there to be liked.
That the bullies were just as scared and lonely as me.
It’s just when you’re older it’s clearer to see.

And what’s ordinary anyway?
Give me me, any day.