Watch you go, Cold as snow, Salt and blood. Graved in stone, Old friends gone,

If I were friends with Stephen F… I’d have him round with pals for p… He could bring his hubby, as you s… I’d sit him next to Victoria Wood… I’d invite Alan Rickman, I do as…

Living in the city is like, Not living. Bodies beaten and blown, As if by a blizzard, Swerve, stumble and slam against e…

I feel you, Know you are there, Pressing close, Behind me. Yes.

I cannot begin To capture my Love for you In prose or Haiku

Christmas may be merry, Or then it may be not. It may be filled with loss and mis… People who’re not there and wishin… They were.

Twilight the blue sky fades to gre… Golden yellow sun always there, Burning my back and bleaching my h… And bleaching my hair. The sea holds an answer I feel as…

Now is the time to leave the past… With more days done than are left… Burdened grief like Sysyphus’ sto… Mind parades of all those gone. We owe it to them to give,

How do you start to write a poem, “who do you love?” First, throw out the rhyme. Whilst lazy it just saves time. I have loved and do love many people in different ways, (read CSLewis,) ...

Do I write my poems and prose and… Cowardly! Do I publish them and say, "this… How indulgent! Do I say nothing?

How easily he cries, these days, With thoughts of you. He lies. These days,