Tuesday, 30 April 2013


 My Spirit was downhearted one day
By another low spirit who
had unwise words to say
to make the day - an unhappy one

No boosting my ego
just lowering my spirits
I'd forgotten, how bad it felt
it's been that long

Words can do such dastardly things
Words matter - they reach you on
high or low levels
They can lead us to terror - if we let them

Words can cut like swords
are capable of hate
and of love
of war and peace

Words can mean so much
and so little
without a high spirit talking
words just die.

The really great thing is
I am a free spirit!

(30th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Monday, 29 April 2013

Notes on Bob

Notes on Bob

Bob said it; and it can be read as pure poetry
'So Much Things to Say' (Exodus)
'So Much Trouble in the World' (Survival)
He drew his power
from the sprightliness of his music,
which belies the seriousness of the words
Not even a question of 
No easy answers as
No answers at all are
put forward here in this
bleak vision of the way things are
So Much Things to Say
Bob's faith in God sustained him throughout
and his music continues to up lift.

(29th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Sunday, 28 April 2013



She likes her skin’s light brown tone,
which darkens at the strength of the sun’s rays
deepening to a rich and darker brown along with a glossy look.

She feels wonderful in constant sunshine
merged with a glorious ocean breeze.
She likes all kinds of skin tones from darker to lighter hues.

Some don’t really see her; the kind of person she is.
They may have good eyesight and eyes that are blue, green or even brown 
but really they do not ‘see’ her.

Is it really all about her skin that she is living in?
A skin which she thought would keep her protected,
rather than exposed.

(28th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Saturday, 27 April 2013

Less is More

A rare blessing
A loving kiss
A warm hug
A beautiful smile

(27th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Friday, 26 April 2013

She weaves her magic

She weaves her magic

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye
And up and down the people go,

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
By the island in the river

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerily

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
Through the silent nights.

(26th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Thursday, 25 April 2013

There are no foreigners, just travellers

There are no foreigners, just travellers

Carved up nation,
definitely a realisation
not a revelation, borders

lineage, edging away
keep us at bay

swimming or sinking.

Continents become countries
foreigners move freely –
some more freely than others

singing and dancing
internationally leaving their mark
as they trace and stamp their trade.

Where do you find yourself
within this vast cultural oasis?
Are you lost or are you found?

Does your ancestry;
your family tree
reveal who you really could be?

Or are you progressing nicely
Onward and upward
through the University of Life?

Do you want to swim with the dolphins?
Or Be a regular fish out of water
in a tropical fantasy land?

(25th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Wednesday, 24 April 2013

City Whispers

City Whispers

At this moment hundreds of travellers' feet hardly touch the ground
I know these faces, have dwelled in those places
I knew I had to visit the city
I had to taste and feel home

Even though open spaces attract me more – now
It's as if every so often
There's a need, a desire, call it a fix
To absorb the density, a familiar dynamic

And as I leave those wider landscapes
Quietly I observe sodden fields
As I sit in comfort on orange coloured train seats
The ticket collector is nowhere to be seen

I step into the familiar as I embark
The crowds haven't fully formed
So it's with ease that I don't have to wait
For a 73 bus and in 5 minutes I'm at the Angel

At this moment I recognise a collection of girls
From my old school; their uniform fails
To disguise their uniqueness and I'm
transported back to the sixties – to my love of Chapel Street's market stalls

I hardly bother with the market now,
Don't even take a look; there's no need
I'm drawn into NEXT and immediately hooked
I admire the fashion as it explodes colour and I'm warmed

I knew I had to be in the city today
To feel alive, to touch the energy once more and be seen
To linger in those places, see many diverse faces
And blend in again, to steal, to capture and then begin.

The spacious restaurant seating is selected
by the consumer in this half-full lunch time
And it is almost empty by the time I depart
Only to step opposite and discover a larger gathering

In the bar with its low almost dark shadow lighting
A variety of high and low seats
Here I feel right at home as there's room
For every kind of social experience

Women on their own watch plasma TV screens
Couples chit-chat, friends hang out,
Others are Wi-fi slaves to their laptops
A few are intensely holding on to and searching their mobile phones

There's a need to stay connected
By any means necessary
To this digital age, which
brings with it a new anxiety and individual responsibility

Glasses merge and chink, a sip of a drink
and chatter rises and dissipates
At this moment, there is a kind of new age dawning
And another day disappears with no warning.

(24th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Tuesday, 23 April 2013

Fear Nothing

Fear Nothing

Fear nothing, you already have
the courage to face and explore
accept and respond to fear so
fear nothing - you already have
to move beyond inertia
and discover your potential
Fear nothing, you already have

(23rd poem for NaPoWriMo)

Monday, 22 April 2013

Earth Day

Earth Day is 43 years old today
and I'm ashamed to say
it's not a day I've celebrated before
So today's a first
Let's remember 
we live on this wonderful planet -
sometimes, we just forget
as life's day-to-day distractions
get our attention instead.

(22nd poem for NaPoWriMo)

Sunday, 21 April 2013

More Lines...

More Lines...

It's election time again; it's going to be a gamble either way.
It's true, labels mean nothing, but don't you fancy yourself in something Chanel?
Be caring to girls and women - this applies to other girls and women as well as boys and men.
Less really is more, so shut up and listen, oh and write everything down.

(21st poem for NaPoWriMo)

Inspired by Frank O'Hara's original poem, "Lines for the Fortune Cookies."

Saturday, 20 April 2013

Dreaming of You

Dreaming of You

She was elusive - twice,
He was consistent
It could have been miraculous
Except she was rubbing salt into her wounds
As he had long been a ghost

(20th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Friday, 19 April 2013



Free-spirited Sun-worshipper seeks
consistent warm and/or hot weather;
at least 20 degrees Centigrade with an
occasional gentle breeze,
slightly impatient as waited far too long
for your warm glows.

(19th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Thursday, 18 April 2013

When I was...

When I was...

When I was five, I learnt how to write my name in many ways and in many colours.
When I was nine, I insisted on making my own bed, my mum said, 'Go ahead.'
When I was ten, I won a Twist dancing competition and had to dance again with the winning boy!
When I was eleven, I got my first cycle and started to enjoy playing my granddad's piano.
That was also the time I became more serious about school and less serious about boys.
When I was twelve I sang in a choir performing to the public and I cried afterwards.

(18th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Wednesday, 17 April 2013

I can't remember

I can’t remember

Is that really me
That I see there
In my father’s arms
Way up high in the air?

I have no recollection
Of when this picture was taken
All I have is this black and white
Image to fall back on

It’s a bit of a mystery
And as I wonder who snapped the shot
I do see it’s in a public street with
The tardis style red telephone box

What am I doing in this snapshot
Of illusion and confusion
As I point at someone, something?
As my father focuses on the camera

As my father smiles casually
And my mother smiles graciously
I recognise the pose as she’s
Smiled that way many times before

She appears happy
With her hands clasped
Which I think is
A sign of contentment…

And I wonder at the mystery
Of no physical contact
Between my mother
And my father

(17th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Tuesday, 16 April 2013

Seven Ways of Looking at Hands

Seven Ways of Looking at Hands

I know I would be nowhere

with no hands, no lifelines to reveal
futures, life’s expressions invisible
No incredible, articulate movements.

Essential, responsible, hands matter
Men, women, children, babies
rejoice when hands hold, caress and direct an orchestra,
drive cars, buses, trains; fly helicopters and planes.

Hands – a pair with eight fingers, two thumbs
to adorn with jewels to signify status
Act as an invitation; as an exit strategy
are diamonds really a girl’s best friend?

How is it that hands are enclosed

In a 'protective' skin
So as to keep out evil
And let good in

Oh but hands can slap, punch and kill

Swear and curse with such dramatic appeal
that ‘war’ is the outcome; 
Peace the calm after the storm.

The artist, the pianist, the writer
The musician, the singer, the dancer
Would turn mad, bad and dangerous to know
Without their hands, they’d have no place to go.

Hands are perfect; each finger print unique
to keep a trace; a pattern
There is no escape
If you’ve abused their powers.

(16th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Monday, 15 April 2013



A single red rose

equals a romantic
story untold

a bouquet of twelve

equals a relationship
to respect, reflect, never forget

this floral gift

full of promises
with no guarantees

that will seek to

wake up your senses,
shake up your dreams

be careful though

as you trim the stems
before displaying in your best vase

be careful of those

thorns that will
unfold histories

symbols of romance;

of love and pain,
are embedded within

their beauty

will keep you hooked
into their romantic illusions

wars are lost and won

blood is shed
love is gained

(15th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Sunday, 14 April 2013

Love to Dance

Love to Dance

Moving in rhythm, in time

with my spirit, body and mind

allows those senses

those important vibes freedom of expression

Music beats, all around
above my head and on the ground
soothing my soul
releasing pure energy

Space is needed, the right physical connection is crucial

preferably on an open Caribbean landscape

ideally near an ocean so the acoustics and the breeze

merge and dance with the moonlight

and the African drums’ messages are free
to travel above and underground

(14th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Saturday, 13 April 2013

Dancing in the Breeze

Dancing in the Breeze
Created by a single acorn
connected deep within the earth,
reaching high, a natural skyscraper
each branch a path,
sounds of peace rustling
leaves gracefully
dancing in the breeze,
offers shady greenery
to cool our skin
shimmering or playing
hide and seek with the sun,
great to look up to
soothing to paint
today's air smells good.

(13th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Friday, 12 April 2013



Bright lights, dynamics, traffic flowing 24/7
crowds, people moving – going places – as busy as bees
seeing faces, diverse – shades of colour
Those are the kinds of landscapes
blending in; mixing well
anonymous, who can tell?

City streets, city life never ends – always begins
through time zones from rush hour
through tube tunnels
the best way to travel
is by car – in and
out of those off peak times

The city swells as millions
pound its pavements
bouncing bodies never seeing each other
and yet needing, wanting
the crowds of those nameless,
like sheep in a herd.

(12th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Thursday, 11 April 2013


I've held a thin snake
I've held a really fat one
Surprised at the feel
as it was hard to describe
my 'fear' of snakes is long gone.

(11th poem for NaPoWriMo)

(My granddaughter Sophie chose the snake image)

Wednesday, 10 April 2013



Less is more as
the boundaries of silence
feel much better than
the battles with words
I'm doing the right thing
as violence with words
will never win.

Frustration – leads to nowhere fast
only meditation, dwelling on the past
feeling struck down with word losses
inside my emotions are rising only
to slowly descend, fall away

Thoughts circling in my head
take my mind on a journey with
no destination, no end,
no resolution as this word revolution
battles with the wind

Fights with my conscience
- gotta do the right thing.

(10th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Ocean Blues

Ocean Blues

At the bottom of the planet Earth
is Antarctica
the driest continent
with intensely cold air,
no rain, no sunshine,
except an art gallery of icebergs
with a tip for us to visualise
floating, supported by the deep ocean
beautiful and yet
full of isolation
as she hides
her majority ice mass

The moon is her one and only friend.

(9th poem for NaPoWriMo) 

Monday, 8 April 2013

Night Drive

Night Drive

Shadows of street lamps and traffic lights
Hypnotically bounce to and from
Play tricks as I drive through the night
While I indulge in jazz melodies to move my journey along
I love driving along like this
So I can naturally express myself in a song
As my destination comes into sight
I give thanks for a twilight night

(8th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Sunday, 7 April 2013

I can...

I can walk, talk, run (if I have to),
I can drive in the UK, the US and the Caribbean,
I eat fish; I don't eat meat.

I meditate as often as I can
but not as much as I'd like;
its a work in progress...

I like learning, especially
when a challenge is involved
Frustration can be a sign that the barriers are tough

What does it for you?

(7th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Saturday, 6 April 2013

Time to Say Good Bye

Glad to see the back of you
good riddance I say
you've more than overstayed
on this occasion and you weren't
welcome in the first place

Your repeat performances of snow attacks
may have looked tempting on the eye - from a safe distance
and you may have won over the kids
but the real issue
is that you stole some of our summer time too!

(6th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Friday, 5 April 2013

A Cinquain

Today's challenge was to write a cinquain, a poem that uses stanzas with 5 lines, each line has a certain number of stressed syllables in this order 2 - 4 - 6 - 8 - 2 (confused - I was a bit, still not sure I got this right!)

I considered
the freedom of movement
when I drive from place to place - it's

(5th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Thursday, 4 April 2013

A Series of Unlikely Explanations

A Series of Unlikely Explanations

Summer is coming, or am I wrong?
At some point there must've been
a series of unlikely explanations
from it hasn't been this cold at Easter for fifty years
to we're just stuck in a cold zone
or under some kind of freeze spell

Whatever the weather
It needs sorting one way or another
as I can't take much more!

(4th poem for NaPoWriMo)

Wednesday, 3 April 2013

Ocean Waves

I crave a night on the ocean waves
with wide open landscapes above me
to feel the warm breeze gently touch my face
is all I need

And as I sail silently through the night
upon the dark, potentially deep and troubled waters
I will know and experience nature's magic
as long as the sea's rhythms soothe me in my slumber

I will always crave these
mystical moments
lying on top of the waters
so smooth one minute and rough the next

(3rd poem for NaPoWriMo)

Tuesday, 2 April 2013

Truth Hurts

Truth Hurts

He told me he loved me
I wondered at times
He told me "You're my Queen,"
I kept silent and thought 'In your dreams...'

And yet I went along with the fantasy -
all in my mind - and his -
telling myself it may be true on some occasions
until time passed and wisdom oozed its way in

It took some more days, weeks and months
before the safe distance came
and the truth revealed itself blatantly
when I said, "You never really loved me."

And without any hesitation
he quickly replied, "Neither did you love me."
It was the 'best' way to end our conversation,
these were the last words spoken; the love died in an instant.

(2nd poem for NaPoWriMo) 

Monday, 1 April 2013

She walks in beauty, like the night

She walks in beauty, like the night
and softly moves chasing her shadow
looking up at the moon in delight
she sits for a while, listening
to the distant noises
of slow and fast-moving traffic
and hears a familiar call
which she rejects this time
as she knows it will happen again
but on this beautiful night
there's much to be done.

(1st poem for NaPoWriMo)

First line stolen from 'She Walks in Beauty' by Lord Byron (George Gordon)