Thursday, January 21, 2021


01 More than a few books on bats

02 The praise is like entrails

03 The sewer sings shitty songs at night

04 He wrote poems, hands behind his back, blindfold, silent

05 Frank O’Hara, Ashberry, Koch, Schulyer

06 If a million Chinamen jumped

07 No THIS is what losing is

08 Train versus Cello? Home and Away?

09 Dead Poets do not give a fuck.

10 Two oranges, a Kit-Kat, in my overnight bag

11 Gargled Petrol; Words of Fire

12 if you want a pat on the head, find a cow

13 A ditch full of rubbish; one or two bodies

14 Crucifixes, Barbed-Wire, Duct-Tape

15 Singing to the Death

16 But the the war was over. We gave up poetry

17 The obscenity of your whiteness

18 How to survive a mass-shooting

19 He built scaffolds in Meccanno

20 Filth, unless you’re a shit-eating bug

21 She was a sexy as a stale cookie

22 The smallest Russian Doll is childless

28 How many needles in my eyes?

23 My father is sort-of dead

24 Dancing with Dostoevsky

25 Let’s play “Killing the Lodger”

26 My desk has cliff-edges and deep dark pools

27 I need to get out of here: Yesterday!

28 How many needles in my eyes?

Saturday, January 16, 2021

 and more...

When she opened her purse, a bird flew out

If they reduced speed-limits by 1 MPH per day

Talking shit, smoking spliffs, three in the morning

If the moon had an on/off switch

My father died five weeks ago

The ruts that old carts make

In due course, we shall divine the truth

A man with daisies on his hat

Nothing to write about - here we go!

Another stone in my shoe

Together; on our three-cushion, plush settee

Admit it. You miss me!

Life’s a drag for cross-dressers

28 Day Cut-Off

The bridge is built. Soon we’ll add a road

Decapitating a few rabbits

The Young Female Asian Refugee Writers Group

The dead hippo firing its final shots

Taken at a certain angle

Night coming in like a bag-snatcher

Incompetent, incontinent

I dreamt of Hugh last night.

I live in a storm-drain but it’s MY storm-drain

Double or Nothing?

An air of baffled silence

Penalty Spot

The small rooms in her head

Friday, January 15, 2021

 More Prompts


At the birth a joyful cry. It’s human!
The river has a pulse
My nephew loses his football
It is clearly indicative of SOMEthing
You are a deep valley with steep sides
Blind fingers, eyes that keep touching
Enough steel wool to knit a car
Clap hands, Clap hands, till Daddy’s payroled!
The A-Z of Loss; Loss mechanics 101
From the Ganges to the sea
it’s pay-Day. I need to go and polish my pill!
The black beads on my necklace
Poets in Cages
I am not as happy as I could be
A ragged windmill
The perfect white thigh of the Novitiate
Wet Tissue Omelette
Don’t you hear it? Can’t you feel it?
Dictator Soup
After the landmine: left foot
A friend’s illness needs to be improving or worsening…
I apologise for yawning
Whether you did or didn’t, I will or I won’t.
I p[reach extreme violence
Something too heavy in my father’s heart
Various scribbles in a black book
Is it illegal to marry a donkey?



Black helicopters, nodding to the crowd

Postmen with scythes

Young men in tights, hamsters in their pants


We should be screaming

Before this water, there was rubble, before that a village

The trams hum, bearing the men away


The last flight of the lightning

Behind the domes and high, slick windows

The slippery banks we climb when wanting more


Corridors of waiting shoes

The things my children taught me

It was the day before I never came home


Perhaps morning will pardon us

Postmen, Milkmen, could deliver pills.

Broken windows, jagged holes, us!


We need to find a way of keeping them quiet

The country lanes jammed. Oh, the irony!

Reading “Aubade” I see a line I used


How much of being old is can’t be bothered

Wheat, folding slowly

Teak, Sandalwood, Ebony, Mahogany


I once failed the postman’s exam.

The sound, the bite of the axe

The inevitable, inexorable machine


Soft light above, streets dark as oil

The factory hooter, the clocking-off clock

I know you’re dead, but I apologise

Thursday, January 14, 2021


The smell of old ferries
A policeman tells me you are dead
Would you like a ride in my flying-saucer?
The things we have never learned to say
Do ghosts go on holiday?
I would like to blink less and wink more
Sun: the great, amazing sun
I am not too old to have forgotten shame
Our skins grow together
My mother applies a poultice to her belly
If you are in America do we really see the same sea?
On Parliament Hill
I ask about the others
The nightwatchman reading Proust
Eating raw chillies for fun
Prince Lear
We need a new slogan and a few deaths
Cabin Fever
The fun it must be to be an extra-terrestrial
If poems held the walls together
The reptile-Keeper married my ex-wife
When they start blowing up doctors
I the West are Westerns sea-stories?
I have three rabbits but tonight I’m washing my hare

Wednesday, January 13, 2021

 Wednesday, 13th January, 2021


Someone is out there, laughing in the dark

The Wenceslas Rule

It was straight on or West. We went West


Killing the Pet Turkey

Psychic Convention. Cancelled due to Unforseen Circumstances

Fields, scruffy as bomb-sites


The brass on a horse’s back

Brick by bloody brick, by bloody brick

iPads, iPhones, Laptops, Screens


My daughter scribbles in a book

Lightbulb Omelette

When mothers were round, wore pinnies and scarves


I fancy fried chicken and peri-peri mayonnaise


The muddy way, up through the park


The leaves upon the trees, about to decay

Too many g’s

Plastic Shower-Curtains, Anchors, dull liquid skin


Four Russians, a heavy Book

In a previous life I believed in re-incarnation

The sea again, the sea


The last try at a password

Low and small among the towering trees

Pink Champagne


I met a man in a dark wood

Sea and sky together, seamless

Late up (it was almost six)

Monday, January 11, 2021



My hands stay in my pockets, herding frogs
Mouths full of dung
The nearness changes things
I am not a dwarf, the world is over-sized
The last thing we shall see
There are no crowds in darkness
What you said - I will give it some thought
Girl in a red dress
The Eleventh Commandment
The blood in church windows
Something soft comes, the grass relaxes
He hated Summer, Autumn, Hair
The trees are blameless; the weather blameless
Let birds settle upon me
At night I dream I am tall and thin: a surgeon
I am a cracked jar. I do not leek I seep
A sky like Nazis in a line
We have not begun to climb, but I see the view
Awake, still, reading her letter again.
He walked all night carrying two books
My blood is sometimes twisted
Stars like a flash of leg
That summer things were larger
What I fear is not what I avoid
God’s Chiropodist
Emails to a would be murderer.

Sunday, January 10, 2021

 Prompts for MONDAY


Brass Bands and Dolly Mixtures

The drunks, the crazies and the damned

Girls called Canaries


How the knife slices, the spoon spoons

Now, having chosen to retire

If I want to lose, how do I succeed?


Dancing with the Queen of Africa

Underneath the Arches

The boy without eyelids


The various uses of cement

The sexual appetite of a defrocked priest

We will build oceans


Yale, Mortice, Heavy-Duty Bolts

The girl burned by Napalm

Hell’s Travel Agent


A world with tear-off mountains

Staying on the Island

The man who came back from America


We, the oppressed, invite our oppressors

Higher Purchase

The Birdy Song as an act of war


Twelve types of insulation

How to grow exotic flowers

A Jar full of Nails


The Short Happy Life of John P Smith

Dumb Tenors, Deaf Sopranos

The exact nature of the world