Pain Makes the Poet

My persistent

resistance to life,

showed the best in me,

engaged the rage

and sewed

the seeds of destiny.

Don’t rescue me.



Don’t Start at the Beginning

A discovery of Dickens

and Duffy, Hardy,

hardly enough, he

awoke in me, poetry,

spoke to me, awoke in me,

something wild.

The Animal wept

for ‘The Unborn Pauper Child’.

The lessons and legacy

of Tolkien, my fascination

with the Inklings

and Lewis’ dedication:

world changing,

life changing.

I sensed the rearranging

of destiny,

the message fate sent,

when ‘The Signalman’ began

with the end.

Event Horizon

Eyes, like aspergillums,

an intermittent trickle

and sprinkle of salt waters,

that sing hymns and belt out

anthems, simultaneously.

Famously, the fickle fates

of fathers, are the sires

to daughters of destiny,

kings that felt doubt.


the poet’s page reaches out,

a crime, defying time,

most humorously.