Hand in….

To an evening adventure….a poetry society workshop. We listened to poems about objects and then had a crack at making poems about some of the fascinating objects tha ad been brought along… I chose the glove stretchers…

Madness, really

The lengths we go

Skin held tight tight

So blood won’t flow

And tools invented

That actually prevented




Once on

The kid would grip

Dainty dancing tips

Of fingers numb

Their wearers dumb.

As yet

No etiquette

For bare hands

To run the gauntlet


This poem is about how things can twist and change so easily and wondering what would happen if we could ‘backdate’ an encounter

Sometimes when I am sitting

Drinking coffee

Dreaming of you

I imagine what it would be like

If we could turn back the clocks

To when we were not pitted and scarred

By the tiny cuts and pricks of disappointment and lost hope

When our eyes shone bright

And we saw light and laughter as our due

not as a bonus

A special offer

But on tap. Limitless

I like to think that if we’d met in those early times

I would have recognised your worth

Your goodness and honesty

Pushing you forward

Shouting “me! Me!”

As i lazily fished.

Or did we need the lows to signpost this high?

Did sadness and pain provide strange relief?


But now is now

And quite how

We got here is not key

What really counts

What lights my heart

Is loving you as you love


Identity theft

We all are meant to have a tribe

a family that we can live inside

a group who understands our ways

Accepting us

And yet these days

It seem to me that this coherence

Is suffering mass interference

We don’t sit down and talk direct

We click and type on t’internet

And it is easy for us

to believe

That what we share

can true love weave.

Under the shelter of our screens

We share our secrets and our dreams.

We think we know to whom we type.

We think the warnings are just hype.

And then

The cut

The slice

The hack

And we remember

What didn’t stack

We see through lies

We see straight in

Naivity was our big sin.

We see how tricks made us judge badly

And share with those who now seem, sadly

To be real crooks.

Not tribe.

Not kin.

You were not heard.

My sage advice?

A strong password.

Scrap Heap Challenge

Day 2’s second poem….an homage to using all your scraps up in the kitchen….the glamour!!

Fairly loose leeks
Kept in the fridge
For weeks
Brussel sprouts
Crying to get out
Of their brown bag
And other swag
From my unlovely shelves
Are chopped
And skinned
And twinned
With shining spices
And flashing flavor
Until we can savor
Better than ready meals sold
Base veg into gold