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on Ukraine
What is the problem?He asks The West quite rightly‘You’re our canary’ ~ n.b. Miners used to take a canary into the shafts and galleries to help identify the odourless poison gases underground. Those canaries saved a lot of miners, but a lot of canaries never made it out alive. CLP 21/05/2024 →
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In The Saddle
A moment’s opportunity takenTo get out of the cityAlong the abandoned railwayNorth towards the coastStunted, twisted oaksLining the trailThrow dark shapesThat would confuse a leopardDaggers of sunlightStab blindly through the canopyNo hills to speak offJust a series of steady climbsSoftened by the swirling seaOf feathered barleyA startled pheasantShoots up from the vergeA disturbed hobbyTwists then →
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On Yer Bike, Son
While I sleep you pushYour pedals up and downRound and roundJoining memory’s dotsStory lines, itinerary stopsBooth without an agendaWouldn’t miss the chanceTo hit a bar on his wandersWhile Wake takes an aesthete’s routeAlert to bears, earthquakes, carsLorries, buses, ferries, trainsPainfully aware, at fiftyHe’s living again ~ n.b. Follow Matt Wake’s epic pedal-pushing ride through Japan’s →
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On Ukraine
I thought if you played acoustic guitarthat meant you were a protest singerMorrissey sangHow wrong could one be?Did Blinken learn to playDylan, Lennon or Pete SeegerSongs at university? ~ n.b. The most bizarre dead cat story. At a critical point in the Ukraine War, correspondents devote time to the US Secretary of State strumming an →
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Calling
Five-thirty-two AMShe flew throughDeserted streetsAs bold as GodivaCareless of who knewHer dastardly workSuch shameless brassThe brazen passOf the city cuckoo ~ n.b. I was half asleep when she flew by calling at full volume, ensuring I sat up wide awake, not quite believing my ears. I suppose the late arrival of cuckoos this year has →
Journey of Words 