The spear

We complain because the tea is cold.

Or that our wedding ring is not pure gold

In the world small children live in fear

Or have no food at all and death is near

Everything is relative yet clear

The cold hand on the heart the soldier’s spear

He said,you’re pre-well

I went to the doctor, he said I’d pre-flu.
I said “My dear doctor what shall I do?”
Next time I went, he said “It’s pre- shock.”
And then I had pre measles,pre mumps and pre-pox
I ran to the doctor,he said ” You’re pre-well”
I said “Are you sure it’s not just a pre-quel?”
Next time I turned up,he’d gone out for a walk
It’s hard for a doctor who wants to pre-talk.
I went to the optician, who said I’m pre-blind
I thanked him for being so intensely unkind.
I went back to the doctor,and these words I said
“I’m pre -blind, pre-deaf,pre-ill and pre-dead!

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One of my first photos

I still like this very much

Violence

The confusing swirl of violence broke down walls
And panic rushed in through the holes and gaps
I saw folk taking photos, checking maps,
Their phones gripped like a weapon that appals.

We see then what comprises our defence.
The connection to our family and friends.
The need to make a record of the end.
The need to look again till it makes sense.

I felt a well-known numbness cover me
My heart needs its own time to feel the pain
The world I live in is not safe, that’s plain.
From Al Jazeera to the BBC.

The masks of innocence deceive.
Hatred of this kind is misconceived.