Archive | November, 2014

An Impossible Union

29 Nov

granddad and meHere is a picture of me with my Granddad.  He passed away when I was eleven year’s old so it was never physically possible for this to happen.  He appears in a few of my poems and is the little boy Alfie in my story ‘Catherine of Liverpool’.


29 Nov

 Grandma, round and maternal

in her floral pinafore,

hair up in a grey bun,

with a face as hard as

the life she had lead,

would give us sugar butties

on the doorstep

as we played in her

back garden amongst

the chickens.

The mangle and dolly tub

 in the yard

resting while we played

and granddad inside

smoking his pipe,

deep in thought,

while he watched the fire

dance around the brasses.

She saw us, muddy on the doorstep,

and brought  great

doorsteps of sugar butties


29 Nov

Dapper, in his three piece

pin striped suit,

Granddad, who was very old,

smoked his pipe,

deep in thought,

watching the dancing flames

from his old armchair.

Then he would slowly rise,

check his silver watch

on a chain,

and with overcoat and cap,

set off to

The Blackhorse Pub

on the corner,

for a pint

and a game of bowls.

Harry’s Christmas Gift

25 Nov

When Harry Pennington and I

Woke up one Christmas morning,

My mum and dad were fast asleep.

The day was barely dawning.


I climbed up to the window seat.

Outside a star was glowing.

The moon shone bright and winked because

The weather had been snowing!

And on our Green the Christmas Tree,

Bright lights and full of cheer,

Winked back and waited patiently,

For people to appear.

And then I thought I might go down,

To see if Santa came.

I looked at Harry Pennington

And knew he thought the same.

I felt a little worried,

As I tiptoed down the stairs.

I’m not always as good as gold,

But I know Santa cares.

He brought me Harry Pennington

When I was one month old;

My very special teddy bear,

And worth his weight in gold.

I stood outside the living room,

Wondering what I’d find,

And hoping hard that Santa

Had been very, very kind.

I pushed the door and stood before

Our lovely Christmas tree,

And saw around the bottom,

Lots of presents just for me!

Just then I had an awful thought.

There was no gift for Harry!

I left him near the Christmas Tree

There was no time to tarry.

I knew what he would really like.

We always like the same.

I’d give him something we could use

To play a great fun game!

Then crept into the garden,

Pure white with soft snowfall,

And there I made my Harry P

A giant, round snowball.

I put it in a plastic bag,

Then underneath the tree,

And waited for my mum and dad

To come downstairs with me.

They soon arrived and mummy said

‘Fantastic! Santa’s been!’

He’d brought some lovely toys

And lots of socks, bright blue and green.

Harry was impressed, I knew.

I smiled at him with glee,

As I reached for his present,

Beneath the Christmas tree.

I lifted Harry up to look

Inside the bag and see,

But to my fright I found it full

Of water. ‘Deary me!’

I wondered where the snowball went

And couldn’t understand.

Then mummy said it melted,

And daddy took my hand.

He lead me to the Village Green

And Harry joined us there.

We made a super snowball for

Our special teddy bear.

We had a smashing snowball fight

And Harry was the winner!

Then afterwards went home to dry

And eat our Christmas dinner.

That night before I went to bed,

I saw the moon still winking.

And when I looked at Harry P,

I knew what he was thinking.

Our Christmas had been brilliant fun,

And Santa’s very clever,

But then we wished that he could make

A snowball last forever.

The Graveyard Watch

22 Nov


floral headscarves,

Keep tight perms

From damp,

As weary, weathered

Women wait,

In drizzle,

With the gravestones

At St Oswald’s Hall.

Spectres in the gloom,

Shey wait their wait,

And watch,

As time ticks by.

Like sheep, they flock;

As those behind the door

Begin to brace themselves

And watch

The chosen one

Release the bolt

And run,

Then, tigers now,

The charge is on,

The Jumble Sale’s


The Road to Mirage City

22 Nov

The road to Mirage City

Is not a scenic route,

Hard as nails it lies, and strong

Beneath the weight of Cairo’s travelling throng,

Where once the camels trailed

Serene with eastern calm,

The road to Mirage City

Carries chaos and alarm.

Gigantic trucks and donkey carts,

The business boys on mobile phones

Large families perched on motorbikes

And weary workers crammed inside

Their hellish hot white knuckle ride.

These frantic hoards are transient,

They pass along the way,

But the road to Mirage City

Is a road that’s here to stay.





Harry In The Snow

21 Nov

One day I ate my porridge,

And wondered what to do,

I climbed up to the window,

Looked out and ‘woopy doo!’

Outside the snow was falling,

It was very deep and white.

I ran to find my wellies;

They were yellow, blue and bright.

So me and Harry Pennington,

Wrapped warm with woolly hats,

And yellow gloves with scarves to match,

Made footprints on the paths.

I built a giant snowman,

While Harry watched with glee,

And then sat Harry next to him

Great friends we were all three.

Mum called me in for dinner,

So I rushed inside to eat,

Leaving Harry Pennington

On his snowy seat.

Because my clothes were soaking wet

Mum made me change and thaw.

When I returned to see my friends,

I laughed at what I saw.

The snow had fallen, thick and fast,

And made my snowman bigger,

But Harry at his feet was now

A mini snowman figure.

His little hat peeped through the snow,

The rest of him had gone,

I gave him eyes and nose and mouth

To match the giant one.

Mummy took a photograph,

That lovely, snowy day,

Of snowman Harry with our friend,

Before he went away.

That night as we were drying out,

The rain began to fall.

It warmed the snow until next day,

There was none left at all.

Poor Harry Pennington was sad,

We’d lost our snowman friend,

But we still had the photographs.

Some friendships never end