The Girls Room

July 28th, 2018

Mary and Jean’s room is such a mess
You can’t see the floor
As they have so many toys
Toys they have galore!
There are teddies, dollies
cars and trains
and don’t forget the spacecraft
and the planes!

There’s coloured blocks
buried beneath bar sheep socks
And Jean’s collection of interesting rocks
There are soft blankets to snug
Iridescent glow in the dark slugs
Dragons and monsters and more
All stuck as stickers upon the door
Plus a papier mache castle – cor!

There are dinosaurs and tigers,
butterflies and flowers
Dress up cloaks to give them super powers
A clock with brightly coloured cogs
Floppy cuddly big eared dogs
Not to mention the jumping frogs
The scattered board games
And a computer that has been tamed
A picture of a black bird framed on the wall
Books full of adventures cascade
And then as the day light fads
Two explorers find sleep hard to evade
Curled up in dozy dreams
Within a time machine
Made of blankets and bunk bed beams
It’s time for snoozing and some epic dreams!


July 21st, 2018

Dark rhythm beat pound
Star pin wheel
Dizzying array
Intoxication life
Pollute interllect
Burning thought
Myred grave
Sick stomache
Slosh of pain
Icy dread
Sinking to the marrow
Spun silk thread
Stregthen fragile form
Echo of grace


July 15th, 2018

Little blisters of atmosphere
Litter the hillside
Coloured flowers
Of festival field
Flutter in breeze
Banner bright
Storm lit trees
Rain soaked vibrance
Sun and cloud
Bubbles arising
Liquid dreams
An offering to the sky
A rainbow arch
Fixing memories
To the minds eye


July 10th, 2018

Fairy taodstalls by the bar
Science in the big top
Mice appearing from top hats
Flowered head garlands
And silk head scarfs
A face painted tiger in pink
Called Jean
With monster feet
And fluffy luminous tail
And pompom sheep
Ageing cyber hippies
Playing pre-punk goldies
Drum circle pounding
Of an ice-cream filled 6 yr old
Vegan curry consumed
in a dedowin tent
Toddlier with fresh festy wellies
Falls in the mud
Grinning from ear to ear
Asks for milk and settles to the soothing tones
Of the Cadbury Sisters
Pizza and a late drive home

Grandmother Titanic

June 28th, 2018

The smell of wood vanish and plimsol rubber
in the slanted sunlight
The school hall a glow
Cross legged and ego we waited
as an old old lady
wrinkled and furry soft
A grandmother like nanny and granny
Weary flat stretched grey shoes
and floral print dress
Hair curled in a white candy floss suasauges
She is helped to the seat
We look at stockings shear and rumpled
As she tells her tale
The ends of her life meet in us
Old as a great gran
Telling of the babe she was
Younger than my brother
being potty trained at home
Its a story we all sort of know
Ice and pride
A ship set upon the tragic path
There’s a song we sing about it
“and the boat goes to the bottom”
Over and over the peril
of a decission chain
She etched into our minds
We know of the families trapped below
Of life boats half full
And an SOS too young to be known
We sit in the old lady’s thrall
She’s not the money – not the toffs
She’s from Dagenham where my uncle fixes vans
She survived passed hand over hand
Crying into the boat
She tells of the fear all children know
Her Daddy was left behind
There was no room for him
The Titanic so long a go
Made vivid in our minds
We feel in our hearts the tears
That she must have cried
Our granny titanic
One of the few to survive.

7 Billion

June 21st, 2018

7 billion minds encoding the rhthym of life
7 billion awarenesses all wired roughly along the same lines
7 billion idea sharers, pattern seeking minds that search
7 billion lives beautifully unique
7 billion hearts to feel, love… hate
7 billion hungers – some needs, some wants
7 billion people
1 is me – another is you
7 billion potential soar
A sea of blinding thought
Carrying the wave of intent
Now to space, now to the deeps
Or to carry us out of the existence
Singularity is coming
Racing on the crest of population expansion

The Gentleman

June 14th, 2018

The gentleman sits
in the lovely lit corner
of the too expensive cafe
Older is he
silver sleek
with hand tailored suit
sharp at the creases
Reading the news paper
exuding an old Englishness
He raises his manicured nail
and pushes it firmly up his nose
Rooting around
He extracts
with surgical precision
a crisp jewel
The boogie catches the light
from a tiffany lamp
It is transparent
like a bubble
of weak green amber
Twisting his pale lips in surprise
he flicks his eyes from side to side
Shrugs at the lack of witnesses
and neatly places it snug in his pocket.


March 28th, 2018

Emotionally degrading
Memory going
Enigma in life
Needs forgotten
Time slips flowing
Initial thoughts lost
The Abyss dawns
Within you

World Poetry Day 2018

March 21st, 2018

Today is World Poetry Day – poetry is something that crops up in all cultures and spans the depths of time.

Here is what the United Nations have to say about it – this date was designated World Poetry Day in 1999 sadly I think I only really found out about it a few years ago, I think around a decade after I found out about National Poetry Day UK which is in the autumn. With the world seemingly becoming more divided here in Europe I feel that this day is one I should use to reflect on our place in the global ecology of all things – science, art, health, economy and the environment. After all we are all in the same boat staying a float for the moment, to steal some Gotye lyrics there. We are all ridding a pale blue dot, space ship Earth and we are all so closely related genetically to each other, to the animals and even the plants aren’t that different to us and yet there is endless diversity which makes our world all the more richer.

A couple of weeks ago when I hosted Gloucesters International Women’s Day event I made the point that the day was not just about us – it was about the world hence the international part of the name. I re-emphasised that we have the freedom to write and speak and share our poetry even when it is against our government or religion etc… many poets globally end up in prison for this – writers in general. My own inlays spent time in prison and exile during the Apartheid regime in South Africa in part for creating a newspaper!

For sharing words.

And others in more recent times have been put to death, or imprisoned or are living as asylum seekers due to something we in this country (UK) see as a bit “sissy”, I have met a few of these poets and it is heart breaking, and a powerful reminder of the freedoms we take for granted – I will not call them a privilege because I feel they are a base right that is being denied to others.

So for me I shall be thinking on these things and sharing poetry through out the day on Twitter and hope that in some small way I can change the world for the better with words – I have to at least try and that doesn’t mean that the words have to all be positive words, sometimes negatives are needed to highlight the problems or as a form of cultural and personal catharsis (something the ancient Greeks did very well with their Tragedy/Comedy mixes).

Twitter handles are @Saffy and @TheMonsterBlogs

The Man

March 12th, 2018

There is a man
And he has a wife
He loves her with his all
She saved him
Quelled the loneliness
That ate him from within

Together they made a home
And she grew him babies
So he wouldn’t be lonely
His family
He looks after them

But his soul hurts
And his heart is bruised
For his wife…
His beautiful, intelligent, talented wife

Keeps nearly dying
And all he can do is watch
As she battles on the hospital beds
Sickness cloaking her
Scrubbing her away

Almost it took
His little family
Before it had even properly begun

And when she can not be
Everything she knows she is
It brings a sadness
That all his hugs and kittens
Can not lift

Yet the moments between
When she is herself in fullness
When she is vibrant and keen
These he knows as the danger times

Sick for so long
She has no idea of her own limits
And she never did know when to quit

He wants to stop her play
She could be injured…
She could be killed

There have been too many ambulances
Too many x-rays and scans
And he is scared for her

One day she will kill herself
By being full of life
Or she will wither in pain and illness
On a bed craving those joys and freedoms
And he watches on – hurting and conflicted
Because if he actually was to stop her…

He would destroy her spirit
Something that should never be done

Secretly he hopes
Her art does not sell
He has built his home
His hopes around it
Pictures on the walls
Sock monsters in the kids beds
Manuscripts on the bookcases
So many there is no room for actual books
Musical instruments encroach on the living room
Lumpy knits are worn to unravelling
Mini-sculptures gather dust on the each and every shelf
Awards, certificates and medals placed with pride
Wood turned toys and hand made rugs

He lets her paint and stick and sew and build each room
In tacky shades of self
Even when it is not what he would have picked
Because one day…
One day…
All those things
Might be all he has left of her
And he knows the bleakness is still there
Just damned by her presence
Sometimes the thought makes him weep