Like medicine that’s “everso nice when the nasty taste’s gone”, several days of torrential rain left has everywhere washed and bright and sparkling: 
I expect there will be more storms later, but I’ve tipped the spiders out of my red wellies and found my hand-knitted winter socks, so I’ll be all right.
Continue reading “Thor’s day”
Category: poetry
high and dry
“Sácale una foto; te gusta hacer fotos de cosas muertas.”
Sometimes I think people – even my closest friends and family – have entirely the wrong idea about me.
We were walking along the shores of the Embalse de Valdecañas in Extremadura, looking for flat stones to skim when we came across the poor creature desiccated by the sun. I’m not sure I’ll ever write a poem that I can use the photo to illustrate, but I took it anyway. **
Continue reading “high and dry”
room with a view
The window of the latest hotel room doesn’t offer much of a view. But I’ve always like red brick and it would be a lot more depressing if there weren’t that glorious unbroken blue sky.
Continue reading “room with a view”
windfarm
En un lugar de La Mancha, driving
along an empty motorway, we see
giants on the horizon. Full tilt
we race towards them.
Long arms whirl and sharp blades
slice the air. We hear aeolian music
serenading Dulcinea.
sea sounds
While I was in the south, I managed to get an hour or so to walk along the marine parade at Alicante, which is as good an excuse as any to post this old piece, written in response to a challenge to write a favourite joke as a poem:
Continue reading “sea sounds”
don't confuse the narrator 