Saturday, 31 December 2011

persistant prickles

the tree is a weird genetically-modified prickle-less holly
but at it's roots new shoots are determined to revert
to their former glory

Saturday, 17 December 2011


huge wet flakes drift down
and melt into the icy puddles

Wednesday, 14 December 2011


in the window a black cat stretches and arches it's back
the fur stands out in exaggerated black spikes

Saturday, 3 December 2011


no washed-out fading archway this morning
the rain was torrential, the sun pierced brilliantly
the rainbow appeared radiant and triumphal

Saturday, 19 November 2011

Zion arts

girl with a smile and a blue butterfly dress
plays guitar and sings
but mainly for the man smiling at her

Friday, 18 November 2011

from the bus window

outside the student union building
the 'girl next door'
with silver waves of hair beneath her wooly hat
and a winning smile
presses goodies on random passing strangers

Friday, 28 October 2011


I press the ordinary anonymous bell
there is no 'ding dong' nor a buzzer
nor even a friendly chime
instead a saxophone riff sounds within.
I can't resist a second press

Friday, 21 October 2011

close shave

a man in a chunky cream cardigan steps back in alarm
the bus cuts a little too close as it turns the corner

Thursday, 20 October 2011


the air in the kitchen is so cold this morning
that the steam swirls thickly as the porrige boils
and I can hardly see if it is done

Tuesday, 18 October 2011

rain again

from underneath the rain cloud
I watch the tiny patch of blue sky
and sunshine moving tantalisingly closer

Made to measure

I walked up the path thinking it was going to be too small
but the letter box takes the packet so exactly
it could have been made to measure

Saturday, 15 October 2011

Wednesday, 12 October 2011

daughters (again)

ahead of me up the street
black tights, short skirts, sparkly boots
and a confident swagger

Tuesday, 11 October 2011


I keep thinking the rain is stopping
but it turns out I am mistaken
... again

Sunday, 9 October 2011

no ticks

tock, tock, tock
under the trees large drips of water land on the hood of my waterproof

Friday, 7 October 2011

baby says no

I want to read The Sneetches
but the Babe is adamant,
pushing the book away and closing it when I try

Wednesday, 5 October 2011

a bit breezy

even as a grown up it is fun
to be able to lean in to the wind

Sunday, 2 October 2011


the empty shells of beech nuts carpet the pavement
and crunch under my feet
I wonder where all the nuts went

Saturday, 24 September 2011

tram trip

crowds of Saturday shoppers with their umbrellas
part and close up like a school of fish
around the passing tram

Saturday, 17 September 2011

rain and sun

emerging from the shadow of the cloud
the sunshine warms my face and
sparkles on the raindrops in my hair

Thursday, 15 September 2011


under a dark menacing sky
a crow caws raucously from the carved victorian finial

Sunday, 11 September 2011

hunter and scavenger

two foxes
the first interrupted in the very act of pouncing
the second stealing garbage from two magpies
who watch disconsolately from across the road

tumbling can

in the breeze an empty can tumbles purposefully down the road towards me
it hops neatly onto the pavement for a few yards then hops back down to the road
it goes on past and becomes lodged in the gutter
when I return to the spot it is gone

Sunday, 4 September 2011


beautiful in the morning sunshine
a cluster of glistening blue iridescent flies
gather on the corpse of a dead slug

Monday, 29 August 2011

double bass

matching red converses sported by two musicians
one carrys a backpack that, from behind,
disguises him as a walking double bass

Sunday, 28 August 2011

Tuesday, 23 August 2011

resisting an afternoon nap

feet up on the sofa, warm and relaxed
struggling against the dark oblivion that
threatens to swallow me up

Friday, 19 August 2011


six smooth slick cyclists swoosh past
and leave me plodding down to deepest Didsbury

Wednesday, 17 August 2011


the perfect time for a little stroll
with your dad and a green ice lolly

Sunday, 14 August 2011


the wrought iron gate is roughly painted
in baby pink and barbie pink
but it matches perfectly the rose in the garden behind

Thursday, 11 August 2011


unlike the blackberries gathered with glee
the damson crop
sour and unloved
thoughtlessly trodden underfoot
becomes fruit mush across the pavement

Saturday, 6 August 2011


there is a gap under the hedge, obviously well used
I wish I was seven again so I could hunker down and scoot through

Monday, 1 August 2011

piccadilly gardens

the cool air around the fountains is filled
with the shrieks of very wet children

Friday, 29 July 2011

keys again

I knock and wait patiently
it is very quiet
maybe no-one is home
no doors bang
no footsteps approach
no rustling of movement behind the door
just the tiniest of scratchings as someone strives repeatedly to put a key in the lock

Thursday, 28 July 2011

out of body experience

a forlorn and disgruntled postlady stands on the street corner
seriously contemplating alternative careers,
but resigns herself to the job in hand,
consults the map, mutters expletives
and sets off down an unexplored road.

Wednesday, 27 July 2011

dried banana

I can't persuade her to say 'banana' but
she pops both pieces swiftly into her mouth
and with a winning smile
holds out both hands for two more

Tuesday, 26 July 2011


the frantic scrabble of claws on the tarmac path
gives me a split second warning of it's approach

Monday, 25 July 2011

flying caterpillars

beneath a single tree
drifting in the gentle breeze
dozens of tiny tiny caterpillars
dangle from invisible threads.
are they practicing ready for when they get their wings?

Sunday, 24 July 2011

through the bedroom window

sounds drift in:
at night, sirens and fireworks
this evening, children playing
and the neighbours chatting and laughing with friends

Saturday, 23 July 2011

wrong key

in the space of three seconds:
a dread sick feeling engulfed me as I wiggled the key in the lock
and it didn't open,
my brain ran through all the possible eventualities,
and then the wash of relief followed when I realised
it was the wrong key.

Friday, 22 July 2011


two beautiful white horses
with white feather plumes
pull a white hearse.
for just a moment I expected to see Snow White in her glass casket,
instead there is a simple wicker coffin.
three limousines follow.

Wednesday, 20 July 2011

Tuesday, 19 July 2011

mended puncture

the distant approach of a peculiar man
wheeling two bicycles
lifts my damp and weary spirits

Monday, 18 July 2011


we step out into the evening rain
and have to tiptoe around dozens of tiny yellow snails
scattered across the pavement like fallen leaves

Sunday, 17 July 2011

the sea

I look up from my book to find the sea outside the train window
nondescript dull grey apart from the tiny sparkles
where the sunshine breaks through the thick cloud cover

Saturday, 16 July 2011

at mum and dad's

morning tea
weak and sweet
in a blue and white willow patterned
cup and saucer

Wednesday, 13 July 2011

travelling home

apart from two bedraggled and unpruned rose bushes
the long neglected platform is more like a summer meadow
scattered with long grasses and tiny red and yellow wildflowers

Saturday, 9 July 2011


a huge brown slug stretches his head up
mottled skin glistening
its tentacles protruding
searching the air
it is faintly disgusting
and yet

Friday, 8 July 2011


siamese, beautiful, delicate cream with black tips
incongruous in the scruffy garden
nuzzles around my ankles
and stretches languorously at my feet

Thursday, 7 July 2011

daughter again

giggling over purchases
and sharing chocolate
she still lets me link arms
as we walk along

Wednesday, 6 July 2011


thunder reverberates across the sky
but keeping its distance
until the sudden cloudburst
catches me unawares

Tuesday, 5 July 2011


skulking in the background,
lurking behind my eyes,
stealing in,
then nagging,
settling in for the duration.

Monday, 4 July 2011

Saturday, 2 July 2011


the small gathering of people pray futilely
across the road from the Marie Stopes clinic
I bite my tongue and refuse the proffered rosary
without a polite smile

Friday, 1 July 2011

Thursday, 30 June 2011


under the plastic rain-cover
the tiny brown toes curl and flex
but he sleeps on

Monday, 27 June 2011


in the sweltering afternoon
she awakens crumpled from sleep
and the curly embroidered design
of the duvet cover
is embossed onto her pink skin

Friday, 24 June 2011

the power of advertising

a very small boy is captivated by the pretty lady with a purple tongue
while his dad tried to gently coax him to nursery

Thursday, 23 June 2011

life story

two jobs, two wives, knows about horses but not a Mancunian
in the four or five minutes that we wait for the bus
the man tells me his entire life

Saturday, 18 June 2011


very shiny, very black and very high, a pair of stilettos
teeters carefully ahead of me along the uneven pavement

Wednesday, 15 June 2011


as I chop the strawberries the tiny cut on my thumb
stings exquisitely in anticipation

Monday, 13 June 2011

muddy boots

the students have been out in the rain
celebrating the end of exams
muddy boots adorn doorsteps and porches
and lie in heaps on the street

Saturday, 4 June 2011

7 days unlimited travel

sunlight streams in through the bus window and
my arm, braced tight against the seat in front,
bears this bizarre shadowy tattoo along it's length

Thursday, 2 June 2011


a newly opened deep pink rosebud
unseen a bee buzzes frenetically inside

Tuesday, 31 May 2011

bus stop again

tired thin hands with horny nails and nicotine stains
fidget in time with his twitching foot

Thursday, 12 May 2011

Bus stop chat

a crazy lady, with beautiful brown eyes, chattering at the bus stop
we talk about boots, breasts and button noses

Wednesday, 11 May 2011


two sparrows, like miniature woodpeckers, grip the brick wall
and peck at the salt that the recent rain has washed free

Thursday, 21 April 2011

In the sunshine

An elderly tramp, drinking coffee and basking in the sunshine outside Subway
greets me with a wave and a cheery, 'Mornin' darling'.

Tuesday, 19 April 2011


a thick drift of delicate pink petals
swirls in the eddy of a passing truck

Saturday, 16 April 2011

Number 30

A newly build wall, with ornate wrought iron fence and gates.
A newly laid herringbone block-work driveway, no weeds or litter.
And yet the letterbox is held on with sellotape

Monday, 11 April 2011

People watching

Teenage boy with bag of stuff and a mobile phone
crosses the road, finishes his can of drink
and carefully places it on the wall outside number 20.
Turning round as he walks away he sees me watching him,
and has the decency to look a little sheepish.

Wednesday, 6 April 2011


No one else noticed, but
she saw me coming up the path
peered round the curtain
and smiled in recognition.
The perfect welcome

Monday, 28 March 2011

Morning mist

the way ahead,
usually meandering gently between the bridges
instead vanishes into the damp muting white

Friday, 18 March 2011


Two big black crows stalk the garden
one has a beak full of gathered catkins
the other picks at the dry grass

Wednesday, 16 March 2011

Adventure playground

Watching the children on the rope bridge
I fancy I can see my boys hanging
and shouting amongst them
eyes shining and determined to be the last
to climb down.

Wednesday, 9 March 2011

Random Hail

the sky pelts me spitefully with tiny hailstones

Ash wednesday

a lady stops to show me
the smudge of black on her forehead
I am politely bemused

Sunday, 6 March 2011


four magpies feasting in the gutter
scatter to the four winds at my approach

Wednesday, 23 February 2011

Alice again

Alice tells me she comes down stairs backwards,
like a toddler.
She says the stairlift is too slow.

Sunday, 13 February 2011


Alice is 90
A defiant clutch of cards announcing this fact surrounds a solitary pink floating balloon.

Friday, 4 February 2011


I have been doing this duty for three months and three days and this morning as I closed the gate at 77 Alan Road I noticed a huge Monkey Puzzle tree in the front garden, it dominates a street of mostly neglected scrubby hedges or concreted driveways. Why did I never see it before?

Wednesday, 26 January 2011


sticky paint trapped in the creased skin of my knuckles.
a productive afternoon.

Monday, 24 January 2011

Green eggs and ham

I do not like Green Eggs and Ham
I do not like them Sam-I-am
we chorus in familiar unison for the benefit of a bemused baby

Sunday, 23 January 2011

through the kitchen wondow

grey squirrel with it's tail twitching violently perches high up
watched below by a disappointed cat

Saturday, 22 January 2011

figures not included

(observed while waiting on someone's doorstep with a package)

amongst the strewn takeaway leaflets the porch is randomly ornamented: three small cacti in painted pots, well tended; a sheep; a mosaic candle holder, the candle burnt; a tiny, glittery fairy embracing a tiny, glittery unicorn; a delicate ceramic lidded pot with a flower; a lump of rock, not pretty, maybe with sentimental value; a glass paperweight with bubbles and a purple spiral at the centre; a gaudy green figurine of a leprechaun; and most strangely what appears to be a bit of Warhammer scenery, just a small base with a rock and some synthetic grass.

Friday, 21 January 2011

today's stone

a bright washed-out winter sky and a raucous troupe of sparrows squabbling in a bush, just for the hell of it.

Thursday, 20 January 2011

waiting to come inside

the cat's eyes reflect like cats-eyes
through the pitch black of the landing window

Wednesday, 19 January 2011


an elderly man digs the garden in a tweed dressing gown,
he doesn't seem to notice the cold

extremely loud woman on her mobile phone
talks about nothing to the entire street

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

dawn chorus

the first faint chirping accompanies the ride to work, it is still very dark but somehow feels a little lighter

Monday, 17 January 2011

ride home

riding home early afternoon, I close my northerly eye and the sun, already sinking low behind the straggly trees, flashes red and green in the other.

Friday, 7 January 2011

friday 7th

amidst the driving icy sleet a single flake alights on my nose... and is gone

Saturday, 1 January 2011

a river of stones

I found this and liked the idea. that's all. this is a place to post them.

warmth and a prickle of whisker against my lips and the lingering taste of a watermelon jelly bean, we should kiss more

onscreen her golden hair, so artfully wind-blown, reminds me of once being tatty and carefree