Poetry 2017

Check out this great poetry blog from a man it seems I have inspired to pick up the pen. I know you’re going to enjoy his work.


The Girl with the Green Hair


There’s a girl sitting on the bus
With perfect bright green hair.
It glistens like a lime in Bacardi
I’m trying hard not to stare.

Her green hair sways from side to side,
Like palm leaves in a gentle tropical wind.
As she slowly shakes her head,
To a secret tune she’s softly humming.

She’s only just got on this bus,
But I think I’m falling for her.
It’s like I’ve been hypnotised,
By her mesmerising green hair.

Sadly all too soon here comes my stop,
Off the bus I have to depart.
While unknowingly the girl with the green hair,
Pulls away and shatters my heart.

Fighting Cancer with Poetry

Last Saturday I was proud to appear at the Cancer Support Centre in Sutton Coldfield as part of their open day to raise funds for their worthwhile work.


Me and fellow poet LaGriff

We weren’t the only supporters of the charity, we were joined by scouts, guides, cubs, writers and singers to entertain the guests. Here’s a video of myself and Bryan in action.

Why not get involved yourself and support your local charity?

Video and photo courtesy of Bryan and Sue Griffin.

Crash and Burn


I came across a dead pigeon on
the pavement today.
As the indifferent traffic sped by
the wind bought its dead wings
to life in a bizarre sad half-life.

As I passed the pigeon it
seemed to turn its twisted neck
and fix its dead eyes on me.
As if to say this is what
happens if you try to fly.



I’ve lately become slightly obsessed
with the trousers
of Ringo Starr.

I’ve stared at them from all
angles, looking hard at their
colour and pattern.

But I’ve stared more at the
gaps where the tables
veneer shines through.

My fingers toy with small
complex shaped black
pieces of card.

While Ringo’s trousers
burn themselves into
my mind.

An image retained long
after the puzzle
is finished.

City Beat


There is a secret heart
That nestles at the center of the city.
Which with its rhythmical
Urban pulse and beat,
Reinforces all that it is

The beat triggers the cities arteries,
Its roads and pavements,
To surge into action.
Feet pound, tyres squeal,
Engines roar and voices rise.

The beat is the signal for change,
High-vis white cells respond.
The city is reduced to rubble
Only to reappear as the heart beats again.
Rising and falling before your eyes.

The beat calls to the city’s lifeblood,
Its myriad inhabitants.
This is a place where all are welcome,
A vibrant multicultural smorgasbord
No one is ever turned away.

All these parts of the city
Contribute to its rich DNA.
Uniquely powerful strands.
That when fused together
Create the complex world around you.


Dedicated to Birmingham UK , my second home.