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Calculating Cat

Fat Alice

Drop-in Centre

Survivor Guilt

Prime Minister’s Question Time

Lessons from Viet Nam

The Airborne Museum, Hartenstein, March 2023

Early Morning Walk


Communication ii

Sock Drawer Poets

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Old Bill And Me

Debits And Credits

Organic Farming

Whiskey The Cat

Fettling The Garden


Those Washday Dreams

In Poverty’s Hell

By Steam Train

Road Hog Blues


Yorkshire Red

This New New Year

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Two Thousand And Twenty Two

Ginger Whinger



More Poetry >>

New Love Story

I see her every evening
Just at the edge of sight.
She's sitting by her window
In the fading evening light.
Always with a comb in hand
Languorously dressing hair;
When I look for her directly
She's never ever there.
I think I'm at a tangent
Where two worlds collide
And she and I are sitting
Either side of that divide.
She surely knows I'm watching,
Knows that I can see
Because sometimes I'm certain
She throws a smile to me:
And when the combing's finished
And it's time for her nightgown
Just before she's naked
She turns her light way down.
I can only see her shadow
Cast against the wall
Maybe more erotic than
Ever seeing her all.
Then she always looks towards me,
Seems to nod her head,
Before lifting up the covers
And sliding in to bed,
Gone then
From my sight
Next night.
Perhaps she is a figment
I just don't really care
But I know I‘m so in love
With a girl who's never there.

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New Love Story



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