I have begun to record some of my poetry as spoken word. The very talented Matt Lucas (from Little Britain, Alice in Wonderland, Pompidou etc) has very kindly agreed to read my poem Little You. Please have a listen and let me know what you think; I'm very proud of this piece of work. Click… Continue reading Little You – Video
Down in the deepest, darkest bog, Down where the air is nought but fog, Down where the leaves are always brown, Down where the careless divers drown.
"Get out of bed, just smile for me."
She noticed the lines around her eyes, which she felt aged her the most. ‘Crows feet’, of which they were known by many, as well as ‘laughter lines’. She supposed the latter was more appropriate; she’d laughed a great deal during her life and not met many crows.
“You must be quiet Caecilius, my boy, the McClintock beetles are easily disturbed at this hour.”
He held it in his hands. He hadn't seen it in 27 years.
Dr Göttlich turned in her chair and looked at Ernest as he lay on the bed. Ernest stared at the ceiling; he was only eighteen, he thought, he surely couldn't be crazy.
The boy alone; a sea of anxious hope.
"Abba, it's me, Michael, your Grandson. Now don't tell me you've forgotten me too."