80’s Tragic

Hair ready to take flight
as you
strut your balloon skirt but.

Feeling ready to break
the floor, yet loathing
whispers freeze you.

A Jizzy Jammer pops a pill,
so you decide that’s for you,
as you slam down courage.

Now you’re online and out there
collapsing the dance floor;
deconstructing dance moves,
freaking out the conservatives.

Tea Cosy Revolution

I own this book, which is my inspiration for this poem.

Once creative, free dreaming,
imagining, laughing, living,
being weird, looking at sheds.

The Palette of humanity was full of colours;
some beautiful and cashed up,
others odd and different, many dark and awful.

The Palette of Colours was the make-up
of human beings and their emotions.
The who they were, not just clinical notions.

Now humans hold an empty Palette devoid of colours.
There is only black and white;
Humans don’t even know how to find the grey.

When a number discovered a Tea Cosy,
no one knew what it was.
They didn’t understand the colours,
yet they were moved, and something changed.

The Tea Cosy was taken and studied in secret;
So began the filling of the human Palette with colours,
and the Great Tea Cosy Revolution.

North Star

A snow-covered forest full of silent trees,
listening to the sounds of unseen things.

A desire for quiet in the deafening silence,
as lockdown takes its toll on the mind, body.

A snow-covered forest on a clear night,
wandering alone in search of wolves, bears;
searching for yourself in the quiet night.

A sense of constrained longing for travel,
as dreams of places take your mind away.

A snow-covered forest with your wolves,
sleeping on the forest floor dreaming;
connecting with the forest and the spirits.

A sense of peace fills you with new energy,
as you reconnect with the seen and unseen.

A snow-covered forest with your soul-mate,
walking in the snow together without words;
looking at the North Star and the soft lights.


Warm caramel fudge cools
in the Sunny Spring kitchen.

Night has come, foreboding;
a buzz of something in the air.

The cats get the Zoomies
then the birds start their chatter
as the trees become loud.

The porch chair waits for me
so I sit for a while and look
skyward for signs of life,
I see the clouds move in.

An intensification of feelings
as the first rumble shakes
the atmosphere into action.

Another tenor rumbling,
then a flash of light;
the sky is dancing wildly.

I cannot pull away from
the sight, even as you
speak of the dangers.

Droplets drum the roof
then the porch is alive with water.
I reach out to touch the heavens;
you don’t say a word.