His Anxiety


He wakes up.
He’s anxious.
He doesn’t know why
But it’s most unsettling.

He shakily has a cigarette.
Not the wisest move
As it makes his heart pound
And mind race.

If his day goes smoothly
His anxiety eases
But the slightest disruption
Sends him off again.

He has tried everything.
Nothing works.
He has learned over the years
To live with it.




Do not call on restlessness.
Do not send it invitations.
Your restlessness will feel uninvited.
Its power will subside.



He lay foetal
On the couch
Looking out
At the clear blue sky.

Throb. Throb. Throb.
It wouldn’t go away.
Every painkiller he had tried
They all failed him.

He was almost in tears.
He tried to lay down
In the spare room.
As if that would help.

The headache began to lift.
He was too scared to move
For fear
Of upsetting it.

When it finally left
He literally jumped for joy.
Tears ran down his face.
The worst five hours of his life.

Casualty Of War


The SommeThe man sits in his leather chair
Ash tray and lamp by his side
He is all but motionless.

As he smokes yet another cigarette
He gazes into the coal fire
Trying not to think of his time
In the Somme.

He was on the front line.
A bomb went off nearby.
When he lifted his head
He was surrounded by bodies and limbs.

The man went to an asylum
Where he lay motionless.
There was nothing that they could do for him.

He was sent home
To vegetate
And that’s what he did
For the rest of his life.

His wife tended his every need.
The man remained silent.
His life was spent in his chair.
Gazing at the coal fire and smoking.



The worst part of waiting is your watch.
Solution? Don’t wear a watch.
I’m almost certain it is
But I can’t be sure.

That clock on the wall
Rid yourself of it
You will only waste half of your day
Gazing aimlessly at it.

Looking at clocks & watches
Will get you nowhere fast.
It won’t speed up time.
Nothing on Earth changes time.

Bigger Than Love


He found true love
In the strangest way.
She was married with children
He was not & didn’t.

It’s not physical.
It’s beyond that.
Way past words
Or definition.

It’s no superficial love
Where people talk in sign language
And somebody ends up getting hurt
Until the next time anyway.

With them there is no next time.
They both knew the moment they met
But it’s complicated.
They can’t be seen together.

Their meetings are covert but full of laughter.
They can’t take their eyes off each other
And innuendos abound
But nothing more.

This is bigger than love.

It’s frustrating that a man & woman
Can’t even be best friends in public.
The human condition annoys them constantly.
So many hypocrites having physical affairs.

Especially when it comes to true, non-physical love.

Weighing Up

High Class

Shall I go?
There more reasons against than for.
There’s a thunderstorm happening
That seems to have set in.

I’ll never get a parking spot near the venue.
I’ve left it too late for that
So I’ll be drenched on entry.
My best suit too.

Then there are the guests.
Women with cheap perfume
And men with berets.
They’re not my type

But it’s a goood opportunity
To promote my latest book.
Is it worth thhe bothher at this late hour?
Me thinks not.

I think I’ll write a poem instead.

Overly Familiar


I met a chap at the supermarket a couple of years ago & got chatting to him at the checkout. It turned out we were about the same ages, both of us were musicians with a similar taste in music, Namely The Rolling Stones,  we were both divorced & both saw our children every second weekend. His children were younger than mine. It also turned out that  he didn’t live too far away from me. We exchanged phone numbers.

About a week later he rang me & invited me up for a coffee. I found  his house  easily.

These phone calls began to increase in frequency & I have  trouble saying “No.” Always have. I can’t not answer the phone in case it’s my kids who need me.

I then got to meet his children one Friday. By the time I was up there (after he called me) I couldn’t believe that they were the same kids. They were rude,, badly behaved & demanding. “Dad can we do this?” Dad can we do that?” Dad can we go there?” No discipline whatsoever, The term ‘loved to death’ is the understatement of the decade. The way that he was with them was nauseating. It was fake.

Then, as time progressed, he began to randomly turn up at my house. Is it just me or does courtesy dictate that you call to see if a visit would be convenient. His visits increased, sometimes 2-3 times a day. I can’t pretend to not be home as my car is visible under a carport.

He then began talking pompously & quite aggressively about world politics totally unresearched & obviously his own homespun theories….& if I hear another homespun theory I’ll punch him. He also tells you the same stories over & over again.

His latest trick is to take my cigarettes. I don’t mind him having a cigarette here & there but ‘forgetting’ to bring his own every time? Give me break.

As if this isn’t enough, I’m an author. I can’t just switch on & off like he does. He’s usually ‘on.’ He’s manic & jumps from one made-up  subject to another. His  rude & erratic behaviour doesn’t get me down. It winds me up. I sit writing with my ears & half my mind focusing on his  car speeding down my driveway. He’s down the driveway, out of his car & on my doorstep before I can  get my backside out of my chair. I have to  take Valium while he’s there as he generally stays a while.

I can see the day coming soon, for thee sake of my nerves, that I’m going to be just downright rude to him & point out a few things.

He won’t like it & will take it badly. I also have a gut feeling it will only last for a short time.  At least it will give some peace & quiet & lower Valium intake.