Flowers of the Forest again

Flowers of the Forest again

More war years

Won’t dry the tears

On the mothers sallow cheek

When soldier boys

Have lost their toys

And return in the brittle box

A folded flag

A political gag

Placed in the mothers hands

On dusty street

Sad mothers weep

For the children dead in arms

Across the sand

Come play the band

Flowers of the Forest again

Young women cry

Old men sigh

As they dip red white and blue

It’s freedoms’ stain

And Britain’s pain

As they go marching on…

Flowers of the forest video

The woman that I'm looking for...

The woman that I'm looking for

The woman that I’m looking for

Has got to have a pulse

A boon if she is breathing

And acts on her impulse

The woman that I’m looking for

Will have a working brain

Has strong opinions good and bad

Laughing like a drain

The woman that I’m looking for

Will have a sense of fun

She’ll like to play and mess around

And maybe call me ‘hun’.

The woman that I’m looking for

Ain’t looking for no jerk

Ain’t looking for no idiot

But maybe I’m hard work

The woman that I’m looking for

Is happy to understand

That at this time of life

Not everyone is bland.

The woman I am looking for

Will be sexy, hot and fit

Happy with her self-image

And flirts with grace and wit.

The woman that I’m looking for

Won’t stay at home and knit

Or sit focused on the TV

And just don’t give a shit

The woman that I’m looking for

Is relaxed and not to desperate

Laid back and nice to chill

If at times we are separate

The woman that I’m looking for

Don’t need to be jealous, hard or mean

She’s got to be my equal

And then she’ll be my queen

The woman that I’m looking for

Is stuck here in my head

The clichéd thing I really mean

Is, is she hot in bed!

I need to write poetry

I need to write poetry
Perhaps I'm needing therapy
I'm feeling kinda worse
Cos I'm missing my blank verse

I need to write a couplet
Ill be donning Shakespeares doublet
But I don't know if I've the time
To pen such stunning rhyme

Masters of Japan
Say zen haiku form makes clear
The writers hand is

Folded around the word to make
One think the world a better place
With beauty, style and insight
The sonnets scan the speakers soul

But perhaps my soul is empty
My writing hand is still
Perhaps my iambic pentameters
Have quietly become less shrill

So I could be needing therapy
I might be slighty ill
It might be slightly pyrrhic
Spondee or bacchius still

So there once was a poet from Plymouth
Not so sure he was good enough
So he saught therapy
From her by the sea
Now he's better than Roger McGough

Now a poets life is terrible hard
Said a lovely girl called alice
Be it Bejamin, Hardy or Larkin
They'll fuck you up with Malice

So its all becoming quite crazy
I think I'm losing my mind
The words are getting quite hazy
I'm think I'm going blind

So get me into therapy
Beard my bardic brain
Slow down the rhymes and rhythms
Please stop this poetic pain

Lull me with sweet lullabies
And the hosts of daffodils
Give me the succour of your verse
And keep me off the pills