What colour is beneath me? I’m told this Red Sea’s blue I don’t know what that means though I can’t see how it’s true For when I look beneath the waves With sunshine streaming through I see a rainbow wonderland Of ever-changing hue Above the reef, translucent An icy trick at play The shallows warm from winter sky Absorbing every ray Beneath, it still evades me Its plunging depths are blue Yet streaming shafts of teal and jade Would contradict that truth Shifting as th

I received a box; a long, flat, cardboard box, that made no sound at all when I shook it gently. There were no clues on the packaging. What could it be? Who was it from? The postman handed it to me, with a wink, and for some reason I was slightly offended - what did he think he knew, that I didn't? I delivered a curt thank you and then took the package inside, laying it on the table in front of me; not wanting to spoil the magic of not knowing. I looked at the box for a long

Clouds Like wisps of angels' breath Hurry across the blue Leaving behind Receding trails Of silver birds Destined for foreign shores Taking with them Memories Of an unscathed world The angels cry Their tears raining down On the parched land

Today is the leaf litter On the topsoil of time A rich humus to savour The latest interpretation Of an ancient world And the newest imagining Of a future, yet unknown Behold today The memories made Feel the sands of time Running slowly through your fingers Breathe in its promise Its fresh hope And embrace the possibilities Of a new day

Before the dawn has kissed the sky I tread where roaring furnace lies The morning's chill is left behind For fire consumes both flesh and mind The molten river glows like gold Yet burns the hands that dare to hold With breath I coax the shapeless flame Yet fragile forms bear not my name The master's clock allows no rest Its iron hands command my chest Ten hours, twelve, perhaps yet more Until my weary bones grow sore The furnace breathes a dragon's sigh With blistered heat th

A real-life story based on my first experience of a rugby league game in September 1978 I had waited so long! Years of watching my dad and uncle, nan and grandad disappear every Sunday afternoon—climbing into my grandad's old Triumph and driving down the road, scarves trailing from the rear windows, taunting me. I used to stand miserably, with my chin on the window ledge, refusing to move until the car was out of sight, the last of the exhaust fumes carried away on the wind

The Red Admiral does not wait inside a sealed chrysalis for spring to find her. Instead, she folds her bright wings beneath bark, inside ivy, in the quiet corners of sheds and hollow trees; becoming still, not gone. When winter loosens its cold hand for a single sunny day, she wakes, testing the air, drinking sweetness where she can find it, before returning to silence. Months pass. Then one morning, light lingers, the earth warms, and the butterfly opens her weathered wings

As with all good things - and Pilgrim walks in particular - The Golden Valley Pilgrim Way was longer in the talking and planning stage than in the actual doing; but despite that, it eventually turned out to be a lovely walk, taken in fortuitous spring sunshine amongst wonderful company. We had been talking about this walk with Tony's brother Jeff, and his wife Sue, for a couple of years and had loosely planned to take it on in April 2025. However, as is often the case, life g

Mist drifts in like fragrant gossamer veil on a breeze that's frail takes flight in silence a whispering vagrant with searching fingers and breath that lingers in resolute defiance Threads of pearl exposed as fleeting kiss what trick is this each timid frond embraced mountain edges in repose no apex seen no folds of green not even shadowy trace Ancient laurels remenisce boughs weighed down to skim the ground and then those strung out pearls become chains and hiss a brief down

They stood on the cliffs above Madeira eyes fixed on the horizon waiting for the brief white breath that broke the skin of the Atlantic A whale did not announce itself it appeared then disappeared leaving only silence and a widening circle on the water The word was sent The boats were lowered Oars entered the sea without ceremony Men rowed toward something larger than certainty larger than courage larger than the stories they told before leaving shore The whale was not an ene

Down the hill Along the lane The road is steep Quadriceps strain Traverse levada Water trickles Path is narrow Grasses tickle Descending steps Five hundred plus Our footsteps light No repercuss Mountain trail A darkened tunnel Rocks prevail Untethered rubble Summer blooms The sea in sight The crashing booms of Neptune's might And then we lunch beside the waves Forget about the rocks and caves Until when sun begins to dip It's time to take the uphill trip Neptune's might His c

The smell of sawdust and Danish oil hit first, a heavy, comforting musk trapped in creaking timber. My father's memory lives here forever, sealed away in jars of mismatched screws and rusty nails. I remember the workbench, scarred with deep rings from old coffee mugs, and the sharp burns of a soldering iron. A yellowed cassette radio sat in the corner, hissing static between country classics, the soundtrack to our quiet weekend afternoons. To me, it was never just a workspace

I walk along the mountain path My mind unleashed my thoughts are free I wonder what I'll come across What sounds I'll hear, what sights I'll see I like to wander here alone With no demands imposed on me Where trees and grasses sway at will And flowers nod complicity To rising hum of insect song I amble slow and listen hard The wonders of the world are fleeting The corners of my eyes on guard Ahead a feather beckons me A message from another world My feet move on without instr

Sun shining Breeze blowing Path plodding Tree hugging Flower gazing Day dreaming Wood-larking bound Teasel teasing Berry feasting Nest building Web weaving Brook babbling Reed rustling Wood-larking around Bee buzzing Finch fighting Frog croaking Owl hooting Chick cheeping Willow warbling Wood-larking sounds Den digging Bug hunting Sky diving Nut shunting Branch bobbing Nectar drinking Wood-larking around Sun dipping Cloud gazing Dusk coming Stress erasing Face glowing Wellnes

Today the ocean growls it's undercurrent a malevolent force Deep teal rifts rise from blackened depths which jagged boulder intercepts Sends white steeds to race ashore to crash in muddied pool Whilst displaced pebbles are cast aside Driftwood floats serene Has played this game so many times Ignores these petty childish crimes Ocean's roar of discontent Bombards unlistening ears And then a glint through clouded sky A sunny interlude The teal now jade with sparkling jewels A

Tim dropped his spoon, and his porridge splattered all over the cloth. "Bloody hell!" He heard the words come out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Language!" His mum was not impressed. "...and at the breakfast table as well." She tutted as she scrubbed at the mess with a cloth, "What prompted that outburst?" "Erm nothing," replied Tim sheepishly, "I've had enough anyway. I'm going to be late." Before she could argue, he grabbed his rucksack and phone and ran out of

Its dusk I sit here watching birds Not bird-watching No App Just watching the birds Listening to the birds A blackbird, a blackcap, canaries, a firecrest I watch a kestrel dive, and wonder...what does that feel like? I sit here watching birds Not bird-watching No App Then I can't help myself I pick up my phone And write a bloody poem I can't help myself I was just watching birds