Do you ever get that uneasy sense of dislocation?
And feel the world just wishes to impinge
On idle fascination with your chronic inflammation
As nurse advances with the ultra big syringe.

Such jumbled thoughts quick tumble in rotation
As Nursey’s jab is more than just a twinge
She shows a grinning pleasure at my agitation
Her reloading of the jabber makes me cringe.

She comes again to jolt my dry mouthed palpitation
And cannot understand what makes me whinge
She grimly says she has to save me for the nation
That I may just recover when next I’m on the binge.

O keep me from the close designs of nightmare Nursey
And latch me on to one who shows true quality of mercy.


Note: To all nurses and to all those who admire nurses, including me, – I’m only joking!


There once was a chef known as Luca
Who fell out of love with his cooker
When his lamb shanks and risotto burnt to a frazzle
He spotted his menus had lost most of their dazzle
So slipped off to the pub to play snooker.


[Monday, 10th November 2014 – at the Tower of London]

On finding you
Standing proud
A single, scarlet poppy
Quite ceramic
Not waving
At the loving crowd
Who come but tenderly
In droves, remembering
With inward tears
Lost youth
The splintered age
Still jabbing accusation
At such monstrous waste
Of precious souls.

Today through misty rain
We shuffled by
In dense, wet thousands
With shallow smiles
For those close to
Yet cut and severed
In a sorrow borne
Across this century
Of flinty years
Redeeming us
By thoughts for those
Shaped quite like flowers
Yet sightless
As our shattered boys.

The stricken, weeping Tower
With seeping wound
Spills rushing blood
Below us
That does an ocean make
Of our most fearful loss
And searing pity
Transforming now
This sea of bloody red
To come alive
And make these lads
Spring boyishly
From lifeless form
To vivid, glorious life.