My Poems Nature writing

Calm in the midst of chaos

Root yourself into the ground;

Like a tree.

Years after years after years

Roots grow deep.

bird watching My Poems Nature writing

A few things…

What do you say to the country side,

when you come back after all these years?

The river in a hurry runs wild.

Bank swallows scheme and skim

over rising waters.

Bellies full of insects,

too soon they will gather.

Their departure grows near,

I miss them already.

Animal Communication Animals Dogs Interview Tara

Interview with my dog Tara

Tara is 14 years old.

She has been with us since Easter 2007. She has been through all the highs and lows of our family for the last 13 years. She was here when our son was born. She was here when our dog Jasmine was preparing to die. She has been a loyal and kind companion all these years.

I asked her if she would like to share her views on life with us.

Here is our conversation. I thought you may enjoy reading her…

My Poems portraits writing

Family portrait

this is a

family portrait

we are treading that

path altogether.

My Poems writing

Fire in the sky

as the sun disappeared

behind the horizon

the clouds make way, scattered

set the sky ablaze, sun.

Buddhism My Poems writing

Lama apricots

This is...
a flashback,
slice of a previous life.
from a time way back
when I was around 10
sharing apricots
with dear lama Purtse.
My Poems writing


give up your idols

they’re no longer needed

but carve your own path

My Poems writing

Joy Ride

On Christmas day, Thom got up at 3:20am,

ran downstairs to have a look under

the adorned fake plastic tree yonder

and ran back upstairs to tell me, excitedly:

We had to get up quickly!

these presents under the tree

were not going to open themselves.

So we had an early start that day… and I got my new bike.

If you happened to drive through East Grinstead town centre

in the very early hours on Christmas Day 2019,

you may have seen that crazy woman

riding her new bike in the dark

around a public car park…

That was me.

And I have really enjoyed cycling ever since.

Later on I found myself riding around that same car park:

full speed, just for the heck of it,

and it felt like being 10 again.

I had forgotten the cheer joy

of pointlessly riding a bike

around the block, outside my house,

without actually going anywhere.

I really enjoyed it, yet

something inside me was ordering me to stop.

Like an old lady shouting outside her window:

Telling me to just go home

and get on with all the things,

the very same things I do everyday

and that always need doing.

I often have this feeling, that when I’m enjoying myself,

I ought to stop. “Now”.

Like I shouldn’t be allowed,

for who am I to have fun?

I’m not worthy of that Joy.

Where does this feeling come from?

Time well spent is time spent doing

something productive instead.

Meanwhile, so many people

spend tons of money trying

to retrieve that long lost spark.

Adults don’t have fun.

they only pretend.

They think they like getting pissed

in a crowded pub on Saturday nights,

standing there, pretending to enjoy it.

But a lot of them have secret wild rides

in shopping trolleys after pub hours.

Adult fun needs a few pints,

and the cover of the night.

I thought I’d share with you this poem I wrote back in January, before Lock down. I guess I just wanted to remind you that this too shall pass and better times will come.



My Poems writing

From the ashes you will rise

How do you measure a dream?

In feet, grams, litres, brush strokes?

Meters of films stashed somewhere?

Dancing quietly upstream,

With the sharp eyes of an hawk,

Storm of meteor showers.

My Poems writing

Message from a jilted generation

You feel so tired

and yet you keep on scrolling

Looking for disillusions,

Something new to believe in.

Your life is like a

bad internet connection:

Doesn’t seem to get going,

Sporadic, scattered.

Up or down. Or is it both?