The Monster

I pinch myself:
‘Is this a dream?’

I wake up
when the monster rings.

I switch on the news.
“How do you do?” he says.

“I’m moving in next door.
I thought I’d say hello.”

I turn off the station
that carries his threats

and listen to lovely music,
strangely out of tune

and find no peace.
He’ll ask for sugar

and take more than his share
or he’ll stop to chat

and breathe in my direction.
How could I say no?

The world that looks just the same
has utterly changed.


So, World War Three broke out
and we’re all Allies now.

Heroes will rise;
The good will lend a hand.

It’s not the curse of Nature
or Earth’s just war

but a warning to ourselves
that we must change our fate

and not compete against our friends
or take on Her

of whom we are a part
and who will prevail.

We must learn we are good,
that sharing makes us strong,

for poverty is greed;
Wealth is what we give.


Worf said, “Captain, there’s and unknown craft up ahead! Approaching rapidly!”
“No sir.”
“No sir. It matches no known technology.”
“Nonsense, Mr Worf.”
“It’s impossible. The nearest star is light-years away. It would take a Twentieth Century rocket thousands of years to reach the Enterprise. Do you really think they’ve come all this way just to visit us?”
“A ‘rocket’, sir?”
“A very slow space vehicle propelled by the combustion of gases.”
“But, sir, perhaps they’re not using rockets; perhaps, like us, they’re using – ”
“Nonsense, Mr Worf. You must be imagining it.”
“But captain – ”
Report to sickbay at once. You need a level-one diagnostic on that weird-looking head of yours. You’ll be claiming you’ve had a ride on an alien spaceship next.”
“Actually, Captain – ”
“Now, Mr Worf.”

Blackbird and Robin

So many years ago,
Blackbird and his sidekick, Robin,
also sang. Such memories of youth,
companion to the dawn;
such memories of the dawn.

Who would have thought
Blackbird and Robin are still around.
Dynamic Duo! Ever solving
the riddles of time.
Holy cow! I can hear them now.


The Season of Daylight comes.
The dark months are behind
but many minds are dim
in the Empire of the Blind.

The Emperor wears no clothes.
Why can’t people see?
They stone the one who can.
Luckily, it’s me.

The Cell

The rain pours
and the Earth absorbs
it all – or sends it to the sea.
There must be at all times
the same amount of water
or vapour or ice
with no increase or decrease,
otherwise there would be, in time,
either no land or no sea,
which means, on average,
an exact amount of water,
with minor variations
unless rocks from space bring more.
This is called self-regulation,
the life of the Earth itself,
a blue cell spinning
in a solution of heat and light.
Something is switched on.
Something changes to stay the same.
Something has learned
to read and to write,
to count, to calculate and to think,
and, finally, to know itself,
to feel the rain.

The Change

A season of storms,
not Winter anymore –
that Age has passed,
the Golden Age
when weather changed
like a child’s face,
a downpour of tears,
a sunny smile,
something to wonder at
being no fault of ours,
no fault of mine.
For some with flooded homes
and some drowned
or killed by falling trees,
the change is real
and there’s no appeal:
that Age has passed.
It couldn’t last.


They bulldozed Wordsworth’s daffodils!
A monument that shows
Wordsworth writing ‘Daffodils’
is there instead of those.

I’ll plant a field of daffodils
where the Council House now sits,
for I much prefer some daffodils
to those condescending twits.