The Howling

The woman next door is howling with pain.

It is 3 in the morning.

Clearly she is doing it harder than me.

I went in ten days ago

with a high fever

and within 24 hours my frail craft

had sailed off into the South Pole

where I was hit with pneumonia

and racked with pain.

It was Scott of the Antarctic meets ‘The Thing’.

I’m in calmer waters now.

Five days with minor ailments.

They’ve brought me into dock.

Going home today.

*pic courtesy of pinterest

The Stan Laurel Syndrome

Stan Laurel Syndrome.

At the Blood Clinic I got a call

from my daughter

to give mum a birthday wish

and to please clear up the nice mess

I’d got her into,

I am always putting my foot in things.

It’s a gift.


One pothole after another.

*pic courtesy of pinterest

The Billy Collins Cookbook

The Billy Collins Cookbook.

Billy Collins taught me

how to write


the same way Alison Roman

taught her disciples

to cook :

don’t be fussy.

have fun in the kitchen:

a small room doesn’t mean

small ideas;


with different flavours, textures,

be funny, entertain.

I thought I could do that

Above all,

Billy Collins taught me:

be light.

You don’t have to stomp

to be heard.

  • pic courtesy of pinterest

My Lonsdale Cap

My Lonsdale Cap.

I found my Lonsdale cap.

It was scrunched between the passenger seat and door.

But it’s okay now.

I’ve pummelled out the dents.

I wish it were that easy to pummel out mine.

Life isn’t a car crash.

It’s a series of dings

and plain old wear and tear.

My car smooched a green fence post once

while doing a tight turn. Some of the green glows

through the matte grey like an early Spring.

It’s bright outside today, high UV reading.

I’m putting on my snazzy Lonsdale cap

so I don’t get sunburn

& my kiss curl doesn’t get blown around

too much.

Timing is Everything

Timing is Everything.

It’s like stand-up.

The audience is a bowl

of expectations.

Can you pull it off

this time?

Now you’ve taken your meds.

You stand tall,

clutch the old mike.

Come on, baby, you say.

Don’t die on me now.

Then weeeeeeeeeeee

out it comes

in one joyful, exuberant stream

like a stallion.

What a performance.

You will sleep well tonight.



Fascist yellow


barking mad,

see how the sea breezes run

from you,

your rabid red breath


the ovens

of night;

four days of heat


No mercy expected.

Without My Eyes

Without My Eyes.

I’m going out today

without my eyes

seeing without hunting

for an image to click

to post on my blog.

I’m going out today,

fresh, unprepared,

no clunky phone in my top pocket,

without my camera eyes,

just to see and hold,

and like the kind fisherman,

then release.

Maybe: An Enigma

Maybe: An Enigma.

Maybe if I had played my cards

a little closer to my chest,

you wouldn’t then have known

that I had played my best;

now I have to wait

for your tom foolery

to decide what to do

with the rest of me

*pic courtesy of wikipedia