October lends itself to poems,
a month of intangible things –
the restless mists which follow me home,
the sickle moon’s Cheshire cat grin.

As nights draw in and days grow short,
the wind whispers “It’s time”
to listen to autumnal thoughts,
to curl up inside and write.

With careful charcoal pencil strokes,
I pin them down to read –
words which twist like bonfire smoke,
on paper that rustles like leaves.

Happy Poetry Day!

And what better time to plug my new book – Labyrinth: One classic film, fifty-five sonnets.


Pens Envy

I’ve been buying Bic Cristal for years now
(love the smooth flowing, quick drying ink),
but after seeing Bic Cristal ‘for her’
I might have to have a rethink.

Packaged like a lady’s razor – and
oh look, the barrel’s thinner.
(Like normal pens have too much girth
for fragile female fingers!)

And so what if they’re coloured
pastel shades, of purple, pink?
Inside it’s still the very same –
plain, black, swarthy ink.

I don’t suffer from pens envy.
I don’t need a ‘feminine’ pen.
It’s what I write that matters –
not the means, but the end.

Accidental Erotica

I tried to write a nature poem
full of the joys of spring –
maybe about some birds and bees,
reflections on a wing.
But then – oh dear! What’s happened here?!
That wasn’t what I meant –
accidental erotica
is dropping from my pen!

I thought I’d try to play it safe
and write of scenery.
I started to describe a wave,
foam covering a beach.
But then a naughty metaphor
reveals my real intent –
accidental erotica
is dropping from my pen!

For English is a language rich
with words that turn away,
and suddenly say something else
than what you thought you’d say.
This rarely happens when I write,
but every now and then –
accidental erotica
is dropping from my pen!

I guess I’ll have to face the fact
my mind is filled with filth.
I may have been raised Catholic
but I’m not wracked with guilt.
Instead of trying to fight it,
I’ll embrace it as a friend –
accidental erotica,
keep dropping from my pen!