Category Archives: musings


I make tea
While she
Takes a shower.
I know
In an hour
Or so
She will go.

She smokes a cigarette
At my open window.
I regret
The cigarette.
But women and wine,
Are they not divine?

(Note, “Women and Wine” is a thread running through the poetry of Ernest Christopher Dowson).

More Often Than Not

More often than not
I stop
By the graveyard plot
Where a soft breeze
Rustles trees.
Yet, outside this spot
I hear it not.

Her Inner Mind

Dare he find
Her inner mind
Behind pumping thighs
And neutral eyes?

The best try
Not to objectify
By attempting to find
Her inner mind.

And in his bed
She maintains a shred
Of her privacy
By covering up after.

Lost Property

I have found a stiletto shoe
Which I think belongs to Lou.
I’ve also discovered a pretty sock
And a very short party frock.
Or do they belong to you!

The Dead Duck

Yesterday I emailed a friend asking whether he fancied a drink on Friday evening. He replied in the affirmative, and went on to say that “Asha has decapitated the duck!”.

I had visions of my friend’s Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy having run amok in Crystal Palace park and attacked a duck, which was now as dead as Monty Python’s Parrot! “Oh god!”, I thought. Then I remembered having bought Asha a squeaky duck from my local Sainsburys …

The Bachelor

If 2 depart
In skirts and heels
At break of day
What will the neighbours say
Of the bachelor man,
And Claire and Miss Anne …?

Doubtless We Will Discuss

Doubtless we will discuss
Poetry and lust
Over so-so Wine.

Then, in the morning
We will yawn.
You will depart.
And I will smile
For a while.

No forlorn
Heart of mine
Or thine.
Merely a rhyme
And maybe,
A next time.


Provider of pleasure.
Romance isn’t free.
Oldest profession
Some say.
Time has a price
In your brief arms.
The clock jingles.
Under the sheet
They meet.
Eagerness of him.
Some say sin.