She loved her adverb more than me


My wife has left me for an adverb.
I don’t know which one it is!
Is it slowly,quickly, nearly?
Life should not be like a quiz.

She told me that she “nearly” loved me,
When “dearly” was what I had hoped.
Life is full of lost illusions…
How do deserted people cope?

I think I should have kept it secret,
For now I sit and sadly grieve.
Do you think my wife is cruel?
What a strange excuse to leave!

Would she leave me for a pronoun?
Would she leave for a full stop?
Would I leave you for a quote mark?
Would I fall into a dot?

Come back,darling for I love you.
I have learned I must take care.
I will go for grammar lessons.
I am sure I can learn flair!

We can write a poem together,
You can choose the topic,dear.
I will hold my pen and write for
They say true love drives out fear.

Did I fear her? Did I love her?
Was she worthy of my heart?
Did she dislike my hairy nostrils?
Was that why we had to part?

Come back Mary,come back Mavis.
Come back Sunny, come back Sue
Without my wife I feel quite lonely.
What is a poor man to do?

I admit I was unfaithful.
God made men to procreate.
Yet I loved my wife the best…
And how I loved her homemade cake

I bet your jargon

Please avoid thrilling people on the road
Please wave woefully
Please weep to yourself and do not bend
Please do not walk on the toad.
Please do not grow balls here.
Please lie off the band
Please tell the youth always
Please weep quieter.
Please tell the tutor if you feel dumb
Please note the dawn is for Dons only.
Please leap off the chimney breast
Please pass your zest and drive yourself round the clown
Please pay the piano on arrival.
Please plea before coming here.
Please bring your own oily paper.
Please let all bones knit before retrieval
Please keep all secrets in your bed.
No pies enrolled here.


No one sees my face with loving eyes.

No one touches tenderly this skin

Who unlocks the door with tender cries?

Who knows my heart and sees what is within?

Some look with contempt for I am old

I can scarcely walk yet I am me

Is there no one left with arms to hold?

If I can’t love one, may I love three?

You think I’m weak but I am very bold

My heatt has courage and my love is free.

Yet no one sees this face with yearning eyes.

At least let someone be here when I die.

Force and change

Your face familiar faded qiute away

Where the dreams go when we are awake?

For every smile for every glance we pay

The heart aches with a numbness cold and grey

Before the day begins the day must break

The face that was familiar fades away

What would it take for atheists to pray?

The death of God is news but is it t fake?

For every smile for every glance we pay

on the River lea ice skaters play.

As the night falls all the world looks bleak

His face that was familiar fades away

I took him to the river what to say?

We cannot die with pride we must die meek

For every smile for every glance to pay

The force of nature of god’s violence reeks

Why are you silent now, will no one speak

Sweet face that was familiar fades away

For one more smile for one more glance we pay

Shells by the Dead Sea

Awlf portrait
Stan the aged yet sexy senior bycitizen was outside polishing the brass doorstep till it gleamed in the early sunshine leaking from a blue and orange sky.
“My goodness,these microfibre cloths are wonderful” he thought intrigued.Mary was out taking a load of clothes to the Oxfam Shop.Suddenly he heard a loud cry.,then he felt a pair of hands fondling the top of his bald head and tugging on his beard.
“Eeh,no rest for the wicked,even at 81,” he screamed.He staggered to his feet and rubbed his nose with his knees.
“Just give me a hand” ,he said,”I’ll have to stretch my hamstrings.They tighten up so.”
“I’ll stretch them for you!” Annie whispered naughtily.Stan leant forward to touch his toes and she could not resist the temptation to give his bottom a hearty slap.
“For God’s sake,Annie” he shouted faintly.”Someone might see that.”
“Don’t worry,there’s no-one around at this time of the day” she tittered in her usual female manner..
“Oh,yes there is!”
It was Dave,the paramedic.He had been lying behind the wheelie bins,all three of them standing plaintively and unwanted in the tiny front garden.
“I’m an MI5 spy,and I’ve been reading your blog,Mr Brown.”We need you to answer a question”
“I’m not called Brown”,said Stan nerdishly.
“Refuses to accept reality,”Dave wrote in his little notepad with some blood he had taken from himself earlier,
“Jesus Christ!”, said Stan.”Now,now” said Dave,”that’s not your name.
“No my name is Tan,not Brown,you’ve been reading the wrong blog!” “Stan Tan!”
Dave appeared crestfallen,”Any chairs need mending today?”
“My what beautiful ears you have,sweetheart,” he said to Annie,
“They look like sea shells by the Dead Sea”
“Your eyes are like shallow pools in Lake Windermere during a summer thunderstorm.”Annie replied womanfully,sarcasm being alien to her nature.
“Are you still a transvestite?” she followed on incoherently yet logically.
“No,I had a mystical experience and now I’m a Zen Buddhist”
“How did that happen?” demanded Stan querulously.And can’t you be both?
“Well,I was knitting myself a Shetland lace sweater in pale blue mohair,and I suddenly had the feeling that everything was interwoven.
Going forward or backwards,sideways or straight ahead,it is all part of the warp and weft of life.
“mistakes don’t matter” he continued emotionally.
“Oh,yes,they do,”Annie said pouting her full lips,cherry pink by courtesy of L’oreal of Paris and New York,lip balm by Yves St Laurent,peach foundation by Lancome also of Paris,toning smokey grey mascara by Max Factor,handbag Annie’s own,deep burgundy 70 denier tights by M&S,Grey pointed ballet slippers by Bally of Switzerland.[also available in black,red and teal].Raspberry lingerie by ,strangely,M&S.
“As I was saying..,”
Dave dived back behind the wheelie bin.
Stan polished the brass and Annie disappeared in a patch of woodbine..
It was Mary’s famous and loud vocal imitation of a bicycle bell that had alerted them to her imminent return from the Oxfam shop.
“Don’t they make bike bells any more?” Dave boringly wondered as he carried on reading the new life of Emily Dickinson “A loaded gun.” He thought it was an army training manual,but,hey,mistakes don’t matter!Or do they?Read the next instalment yesterday at your local newsagent or here free of interest,hope or love.Any additions welcome.
All donations to Oxfam.

By love anected falsely

Posted on May 17, 2019
Should we write in form to make a shape
Or let our minds run free, associate?
Such tangled webs within the mind are draped

Oh, to run as free as antelopes
But from sharp tigers noone will escape
Can we control , disarm within a shape?

Love’s enacted falsely , making rape
Inside our hearts shall we recover hope?
Such tangled webs the curtained mind creates

Round the marbled minds we half dazed traipse
Wherever we go hunting, we’re too late
Can we control our fear within a shape?

Collapsing faith cracks , can we concentrate
Or from the deal , do we dissociate?
Such tangled webs of mind make ripe our hate

Now sex compels but will can’t procreate
Can kindness smile and friendship instigate?
Should we write in form when we love shape?
Our mingled maps of mind might alter fate