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Saturday, 17 May 2025

I don’t have anyone

I don’t have anyone

To hide you from anymore

I don’t even have to hide you

From myself anymore



Friday, 16 May 2025

He took off quickly

He took off quickly

Climbed even quicker

Until he settled

Then leaned slowly

Into a wide circle

As was his routine


I had asked before

What was that noise

In front of the house

Above the house

Behind the house

Within the house


I was not reassured

No matter

What others felt

About her well-managed

Lack of

An appropriate response


Of course she heard me

Those shuttered eyelids

Told their own story

Of a saleswoman

Or fighter pilot

On estate duty



Thursday, 15 May 2025

On Bluestone Heath road

On Bluestone Heath road

Keeping away from the house

While the estate agent

Tries his very best to sell it


Instead a circular tour

(Except one road was closed)

To the three towns

Nearest to Revesby Estate


I am no town planner

But to have a toilet block

With all four doors locked

Seems to be an extravagance


Is this a prime example

Where the private sector

Could make more use

Of a town centre asset



Wednesday, 14 May 2025

Have I ever been so sociable

Have I ever been so sociable

Agreeing to everything

The salesman suggests


Could I have quibbled

Tried harder

For more of a bargain


Will I forgive myself

In the fulness of time

I didn’t even go for a test drive


The sky is white and grey

Embellished by the remnants

Of a giant smoke ring


Which says quite a bit

About my day

What with all this stillness



Tuesday, 13 May 2025

We don’t sell date slice

We don’t sell date slice

I was in no position to argue


Yes you can have a muesli slice

How could I complain


But what about the coffee

Yes it is Americano


And the red brick church

Was it built by the founding fathers


You may have to go to the bookshop

To find the answer to that one


You mean the place which no longer has a café

But I have already been there


Best find yourself a bench then

There’s one at the cross roads


What about Cornish pasties

I thought I saw one in the window


I’m afraid they’re beef my love

And baked right here in Lincolnshire


Should I go back I wonder

To complement her

On the confectionery or the conversation