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No, of course I don’t…I mean, who’d want to bea mere two scornful wordsin a stand-up comic’spatronising patter…‘The other day, at the ticket..

A broken night; breakfast-table phrasesassembled for a touch of sympathy:‘don’t ask…! ’‘bit out of sorts…’‘haven’t really got going yet…’‘not quite..

It's days when you've got lots to do -the Muse, she puts a phone call through...You're back at work, and short of time -She's back again: some silly..

no-one comes back from warnot the victorsnot the vanquishednot the deadnot the livingjust faceswith memoriesno-one comes back from warthey come..

Factionslead tofictionswhich lead tofrictionswhich lead toafflictions

‘The Rise and Function of theHoly Man during Late Antiquity’might sound as dry as desert sand,or equally, excuse the pun, deserted…but no, it holds a..

In the centre of the window at your local Kidz-r-Uz,all winking fairy lights, glitter, sparkle and buy-me,sits a bear. A Teddy Bear.He’s the soul of..

Deathcould be full of surprises.I'm not Irish; but if you were to dothe full Irish thing - take my corpse out of the coffin,dance wildly round the..

And that’s not a claim to paternity –it’s the possessive case; though to what degreemy father possessed Plato, or Plato, him,remains one of those..

In the deepest deeps of the human heart,what separates Christian and Muslim,Islam and Christianity?Absolutely nothing. How could it?The God always..

I wouldn't recommendadolescenceor old ageas permanent statesto linger in

This poem is no more.It has ceased to be.It's expired and gone to meet its maker.This is a late poem...Bereft of life, it rests in peace.If you..

and in the half-light of the abbey church,candles flickering,a kneeling stillnessfor years of daysprayerso that to be is to prayto pray is to be..

His last painting of waterlilies blurs and wavers;I think he should have gone to Specsavers.

They’re too silly to be serious,too serious to be silly…those moments when your rawadolescent ego (and how long it lasted…)is hurt to the quick…how..

Gertrude Stein was on her dying bed;(i.e. she was dying, not the bed) :the doctor came in, Alice walking ahead;‘What’s the answer, Doc? ’ said Miss..

Boundless… yet, it can formulatethese things called words…to help itself and us; to callto our imagination, bounds,and boundlessness, in thought…out..

Jane Austen’s heroines –(ah, dearest Jane…)knew a thing or two –show a man you have a mind,and you may catch his heart..and men –flowers, a poem, a..

Come to me as nameless, Lord –and I to Thee!come to me – I care not – asthe Brahman, Krishna, Buddha,Adonai, Christ, Mohammed, Reason –clothed..

and with good fortunethe experience grows itselfinto a poem; so thatthe poem then may seed itselfinto a new experience;like two young loversone the..

as poems gohis went

‘This is Mister Blake, my dear,he sees visions..’and he looked down at me, this manwho saw, what did that mean,saw visions? His eyes were just so..

Those days when an invisible armchairrelaxes you into a moodthat's an exquisite, savoured blendof innocence and experience,which might even be..

'And what of the gopis? ’then I asked you -‘Had they forgotten that they too,were Krishna? Or did they thinkit was more funto pretend that they were..

I want everyone to knowyeah?how much I loved youyawnand how much I miss youy a w n...which makes this, poetryyy aa ww nn....and me a poety a..