Latest Publication

(En Senmova Centro)

These poems explore how the consciousness of place and an awareness of the natural world offer an anchor in the midst of change, be that of the seasons or the vicissitudes of relationship, and how even an apparently ephemeral shift in perception or emotion can affect a change which may shock in its abruptness.

Printed on Woodstock Betula card and Beteull paper, this 40-page book costs £5 or £6.50 inc p&p.

ISBN 978-1-907257-46-9



For Ellen Wilkinson, Middlesbrough MP, 1924 - 1931
Commissioned by Friends of the Earth

The Iron Masters’ steel rolled over farm,
the Priory’s herbs, Jowsey’s walled garden
near the docks. It flowed around cheap streets
that housed hutched rows of herded workers,
fleeing famine, clearances, privation.
No Garden City here, no Quaker
Bourneville, no Robert Owen.
Their wives, more mindful of the spirit’s needs,
set up a place of recreation
with tea and music, papers, warmth,

among the ornamental palms.
This Winter Garden bloomed
till blighted by the aftermath of war.
The Stewart Park conservatory
was Thatchered, a loss that tugs
at memory, still raw, still mourned.

Now iron-fisted Whitehall masters,
media empire builders, goad us on
to turn against each other. They conspire
to make us fear ideas of common good.
Frost from Austerity has killed
the gardens of Victoria Square.
And now the nameless lake, fountain, trees,
the bullrushes, a sheltered haven

for the ducks, where plants and water
cleanse the air, offer beauty, peace
amid the rush of straitened lives,
will count for nothing. The Council
disregards its worth. They plan
to plant a car-park here instead,
regardless of the many voices
urging them to think again.

So many 'Boro women, rich and poor,
have worked to make a difference.
For years their contribution's been ignored.
So let’s reclaim this unnamed space
to celebrate what they achieved.
Unveil the statue of the town's MP
so that Red Ellen stands, a symbol
for them all, beside her Lake.

From Within A Still Eye

Did you really think
you could tell me what to do
and I would listen?
That shows you do not
know me very well. That shows
me I’m a figment
of your imagination.

Esperanto Translation:

Esperanto Translation by Jack Warren

Ĉu vi vere kredis
ke vi povas diri al mi kion fari
kaj ke mi aŭskultos?
Tiu montras ke vi
ne bone konas min. Tiu montras
al mi ke mi estas fikcio
de via fantazio.

From Dark Matter III

This one did not care
whether she was sheep
or lamb as she rushed
towards the hanging,
but found, at the very
last minute, that
her thoughts could not
be turned into deeds.

Contradiction tore
up the landscape.
The field of flowers she
walked in split apart.
Around her ankle,
Hades' hand grasped tight.