When the pen takes control.

We pass the tree at the head of the lane

at least something remains the same

in the distance we see fields and hedgerows

soon to be covered with houses I suppose

but the sun doth shine, the sky is blue

let us stand awhile and enjoy the view

As fires tear through California and Trump sets back efforts to curb the rise of global temperatures, what can individuals do to make a difference?

How to start reducing your environmental footprint

A girl called Susan had a terrible stutter

so bad that she found it hard to utter

an answer to the simplest question in school

and all the girls in her class thought her a fool

then they would snigger and often call her names

so it made her too shy to join in with their games

but the boys thought she was a comely lass

and they would go and talk to her in class

all this attention made her feel quite good

so she’d play with them whenever she could

Forlorn boats sit upon the sand

the ebbing tide has left them stranded

their drunken masts reach for the sky

as old dead trees stand frozen lifeless

mooring buoys not joyful bobbing but

relaxing knowing a job well done

still holding fast the boatmen trust

though barnacle and weed encrusted

the hulls that lean haphazard crazy

will soon be roused from lazy slumber

when the moon from up on high

once again sends in the flooding tide

As the high white clouds drift through the air

standing on the hill below them I see a fair

with it’s helter skelter and tall big wheel

the inner child in me makes me feel

romantic, nostalgic because In truth

I could never resist fairs in my youth

bumping cars, caterpillar, music and lights

a source of great fun for both young and old alike

Occasionally I must confess

I dream of acts of wantonness

where suddenly without warning I get the urge

to couple with a lady, our bodily fluids to merge

Wet, still dripping from the outgoing tide

the white limpet shells nestle neath the slime

under the feet of those who lift their heads

to watch the new sun rise, having said

their last heartfelt sad goodbyes once more to

wives, friends, husbands, sons and lovers who

although with regret may leave their family

to spend time with a closer company


So we boarded the Northern train

in howling winds and stinging rain,

the guard, his  duties now performed

gives one last cry of all aboard.

checks all the carriage doors are closed,

with green flag raised his whistle blows

as if some giant devil’s sneeze

our fiery steed, his power released,

above our heads luggage overflows

where dim bare-bulbed lanterns softly glow

we settle in the deep velour seating

comforted by the piped steam heating


upon leaving the station far behind

we catch the rhythm of the lines

windows sealed keeping out the chill

the rhythmic, rocking, motion will

enfold us with it’s gentle charm

as we snuggle into the well-padded arms


after eight long hours the race is run

to our right we glimpse the rising sun

our destination now not far ahead


where reluctantly our journey ends


and sadly we’ll depart the Northern train


counting the days till we ride it again

With every careful step I take

the crackling grass bends low and spreads

and each footstep in my wake

not white but dirty brown instead

The world is not sure what it can expect

for in the greatest country in the occident

there will shortly be another President