Please help me to cry

Daddy, how we missed you when you died
I had not been told when I was five
Come back,Daddy,miss your smiling eyes

We were told that we must never  cry
When the cancer took your earthly life
Daddy, how  you suffered ,then you died

When you wanted company, I tried
I was too articulate to thrive
Come back,Daddy,miss my  Daddy’s  eyes

By the  flower  beds,  you wanted a guide
You wanted me to talk.I  really tried.
Daddy we  fell down a black hole, why d’y die?

You slept all alone, the pain arrived
We slept with our mammy, on your side
Come back,Daddy, don’t you miss my eyes?

I  always hum like you did though I’m shy
You are singing through me, close  and wise
Daddy, we still  miss you and your pride
Come back,Daddy, teach me how  to cry.




Thinking, love

Love thinking about you.

Love,thinking about you.

Love thinking,about you......

Thinking about you,love.

Thinking love about you.

You, thinking about love.

You thinking about love?

You love thinking about....

You about,thinking love?

About you,love,thinking.

About thinking,love you.,Love Thinking

Love, Thinking


Come love,stop thinking.

How come there's love about?

Think about it

Creating love from endless tiny sparks

Our roots are in another kind of earth
Invisible,  yet felt in guts and heart
Unlike the trees that bow down at our birth

Ignorant of our roots, now torn  and worse
We come to grief and all its  little parts.
Our roots are in another kind of earth

Our conception,  to the sperm, is merry mirth
The egg is eager for her life to start
Unlike the trees that, windy, flounce and curse.

We do not know what our deep roots are worth
Till sad we see our angels each depart
Our roots are in  some other kind of earth

We grow,enlarge, and learn a language first
Then in our home grown  narrative we star
Unlike the trees that bowed down at our birth

Creating love from endless tiny sparks
The form of every universe  must start.
Our roots are in another kind of earth
With fabled  trees entrancing every birth

Limericks on ladies

event fireworks shower of sparks pyrotechnics
Photo by Pixabay on

There was a young lady from Barnet
Who wore no damn clothes, just a hairnet
When she was asked why
She said,I’m a spy
I write on my skin or the carpet

There was a young lady from Ealing
Who had glued her bed onto the ceiling
Her partner fell off
Disturbed by  a cough
Then he felt  drunk, because his head was reeling

There was a young lady in Venice
Who thought men were naught but a menace
Then she met one called Jack
Who filled every lack
Then they had lessons  in tennis