Category Archives: books

The Clocks Have Gone Back

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At 2 am today (Sunday 29 October), the clocks went back one hour. This does, of course mean that I get an extra hour in bed. However, during the week it means that I leave in the dark for work and return home in the darkness (lucky old me)!

The clocks going back reminded me of my poem “The Clocks Have Gone Back”, which is reproduced below. Incidentally, in today’s technology dominated society, I only had to adjust the ancient battery operated talking alarm clock (purchased many years ago from the Royal National Institute of Blind People) and the chiming timepiece that sits on the bookcase in my living room (the latter features on the front cover of my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind”).

—

The clocks have gone back and the weather is cold.
The bold
Venture outdoors.
The temperature underscores
That winter is here
And the year
Is nearing it’s close.

Fingers and toes
Freeze.
There is no breeze,
Only the chill air to please
Senses the all encompassing heat
Would defeat

The Role Of The Literary Agent

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This week “The Bottom Line”, on BBC Radio 4 examines the role of agents (literary and otherwise). The information on the BBC’s website reads as follows:

“This week the programme looks at the business of agents. What exactly do they do and are they adding value to their clients’ careers? Evan Davis discusses their role with three agents from the worlds of showbusiness, football and books. …”.

To listen to the programme please visit, http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b09b0wbl.

I Sing The Song Of Wrong And Right

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I sing
The song
Of wrong
And right
At night
Heels bring
A fleeting joy
To some poor boy.

The morrow
May sorrow bring,
But tonight
I sing
Of what some call wrong,
And others right,
And of the light that glows
And shows
The road to heaven
And to hell
That many a poor wretch knows
All to well.

Curtains twitch
And gossips itch
To tell,
While the poet continues to sing of heaven,
And passion hot as hell

Vampire

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A girl sat upon the shoulders of a vampire.
Human form he took
And did in no way look
Like a ghoul.
With a smile benign
His design
He executed in full view
Of the fool
Who thought him a gentleman through and through.

Her desire
For the vampire
Turned to despair,
And today
Men pay
For what she once gave away.

There Was A Young Lady Named Mable

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There was a young lady named Mable
Who danced on a rickety old table.
The furniture gave way
And I heard her say,
“I was willing, but that table is unstable!”.

—

There was a young lady named Mable
Who danced on a rickety old table.
The furniture gave way,
But some do say
That my story is nought but a fable!

The River Has Burst It’s Banks More Times Than I Can Remember

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The river has burst it’s banks more times than I can remember.
Another swan
Is gone,
But I find
That she has left a black feather behind.
In summer weather
I relish the scent
Of the heather.
Come November
I repent,
But why?
For I
Did pave the path
To the cavern where my demons laugh.

Goldfish Bowl

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As a child, I had a round Goldfish bowl.
The fish their whole
Lives spent
(I thought content)
Swimming in never ending circles in that plastic tank.
The frank
Man or woman may
Perhaps smile ruefully and say
“I have spent a day
Or more in that self-same way,
But at some future time I will
Be still”.