Poems

Though my poetry is crap I’ll try my best with the gangster Rap. Inmates in for smuggling dope My poetry won’t stand a hope. I’ll tell them I’m from UK. Not down from George Town way. That way it should not cause An affront or an affray. Last thing we want is a riot. Though…

Woops – there goes another one. I’m not the first to notice. Hopefully, I’m not the last. I’d hate that, can you imagine? To be the last human to notice Another species going extinct. Just think about where and when that would be. I really don’t want that to be me.

A Republic without a King A country in Dire Straights. Nothing to admire. Not great. Inherent Selection of politicians For the House. Brexit full of Discrepancy and Suspense. Media Starlight not Pertinent. Filling the electorate with Superstition. Dreading another Referendum Election. Tomorrow’s World. Toes curled !! Argh ! Roger P. Read

many years ago I read a book by a long-distance walker called John Hillaby who wrote – in his introduction – that walking was like making love to the landscape and I thought if your idea of making love is stomping over someone in big muddy boots I’m glad I’m not the object of your…

Our lives will change Beyond compare, But it’s only right That he should go. It’ll be strange without him here But life moves on That’s how it must be. He’ll make a life That we can’t know A life for him for Times to come So I wish him well My wonderful son.

My first world was a chocolate box: discovery and innocence; Free from the anxiety that one day I must leave. Others have been better, and worse, but never so enchanting since. The bedroom was a sacred place: filigree, white lace and chintz, With tasselled woollen dressing gowns and strange exotic creams. That first home was…

I’ll die in the sea. It’s my birth room. The womb. From which I was born. Roger P. Read 30/4/2019

She loves me, She loves me not. She loves me But not a lot. She loved me, Though I’m not sure If she loves me Anymore!

‘I think, so I am’ Well, I’m not sure that’s true ‘Cos the person who’s thinking Just might not be you. You could be a figure In somebody’s dream, You never can be certain Things are what they seem!

Heavens above, what’s wrong with you? Please get down from the tree, – You’re not impressing anyone – Least of all not me! Your audacious, sad behaviour Makes me wish that you weren’t mine – So stop this silly nonsense Or I’ll end up doing time! When it’s chilly you play outside With your sandpit…

Wind, blowing dead leaves, Rustling along the lane like dead souls, Their moisture and shining suppleness gone, Leaving only a desiccated, darkening husk. Wind blowing dead leaves, as I pass by, Reminding me of people I knew, Whose laughter and knowledge Stopped, One day. And, like a leaf, I will be blown, dry and lifeless,…

It is what I do now Not walk to the familiar door Not turn the key in the locks Not collect the post from the floor Not stop. Instead I walk past the building hurriedly The windows are strangers Wind roars with insidious intent Larks about along the pavement. It is what I do now…

‘If winter comes, can Spring be far behind?’ (Shelley) Well, here we are in mid-March (nearly), and the promise of Spring is very much in the air. Verges and hedgerows abound with snowdrops, daffodils, violets, and primroses. Creativity is in the air too, and Rich and I are delighted to reflect on the success of…

You are not dead ! I have your cells And you are well Absorbed in my body. In my head From a chimeric spell. Twist of genetic fate. A mistake. Nature’s take. About which to debate. I’m One on the outside But we are Two on the inside Where we live and reside. The graft…

Ahead sparkling Jasper, Garnet and RubiesFlickering red and bright.Towards us come Spodumene and  DiamondsDazzling and incandescent. All these gems shiningWith a speed that’s indecent.Amber and Citrine light up, implyingA turn left or right.Blue flashing Topaz and Sapphires,Sirens wailingIndicate a jewel’s failing.The red and whiteCells at the heart of the Nation.Flow to their jobs of creation.In…