Rainy Days

I was in Cornwall recently, for a break from it all, and we had incredible weather for a few days. Weather kind enough to let us sit on the beach in shirtsleaves and shorts, walk around without having to take a coat and just bimble about walking around and getting up to stuff. By the beach, there was a fantastic cafe stationed in an abandoned hotel – set just below

If You Stand Back and Look

Over the last year, I have been busy writing a book. My first draft is done, and some kind friends are looking at it (no pressure!) and I hope to get some good pointers to work in, update or consider. That’s the reason I’ve not written many poems over the last twelve to eighteen months, my head’s been full of the book, which is based on a poem I wrote

Cider Craic

As a youngster, attending University, many of the folk I knew were looking to change their lives. Not necessarily looking to “better” themselves; that’s perhaps an outdated perspective in a world I hope has moved on – I may of course be wrong about that. But these folk were perhaps a little older than most of our undergrad compatriots. Thus we had seen a little more of life outside of

Every Day Beauty

During lockdown, my local writing friends have stayed in touch, zooming weekly and writing away. Every few days, I’ve been posting poetry challenges to a collection of local poets, just for fun, for something to write about during lockdown. After reading loads of excellent poems over the last few weeks, I figured maybe it was time for me to put pen to paper, and write a poem in response to

Judgement

Our world has faults – we all know that. Getting us all to agree on what those are is like herding cats. All of us have – and are entitled to – an opinion; some of us share that opinion with others, some don’t. Mostly, though, there’s at least a few like minded soulds out there who we can agree with, take heart in sharing views and chew the fat

Boundaries

Cornwall’s lovely, a recent holiday proved that to be the case (again). Staying at a house overlooking a harbour, early mornings watching rain, sun, sea, imagining seagull thoughts, wondering about stuff in general were a true holiday blessing. Time’s precious, spent well with family but there’s also a little time each day – those moments watching from the window – for spending selfishly. So I wrote this poem, one morning,

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