When the pen takes control.

I went to my mother and said where’s

the little wooden table and two chairs

she looked out the window then said to me

they’re at the bottom of the garden can’t you see

I said to her that I had just been there

and I couldn’t find them anywhere

she said go and look down by the trees

they’re probably covered in the Autumn leaves

and so of course when I went out to see

they were right where Mummy said they’d be

Clever Mummy

The empty goatskin

can revive the drowning man

air replacing water

I stroll around my local patch

and wonder at the sights I see

surmounted by a roof of thatch

whitewashed walls tween black oak beams

I stand and gaze in ecstasy

at this the cottage of my dreams

thoughts and memories

seeking release from their net

dreams in the night

His Royal Highness, some once thought a fool, has shown his fitness over us to rule.

The finely bored eyes

glare above a sharp toothed mouth

highly seasoned gourd