Time Was

Time was

She would dash out the gate

Pulling me along on the leash

Eager for her twice-a-day walk

To explore the wide world beyond

She would sniff the grass

Smell the passersby

Look back to check I was following

Then burst into a run

Taking me with her

‘Til I could reign her in.

She loved the playing field

An early morning adventure.

She liked being free

Of the leash, not me,

To run around the lot next door

At her will…


The trees, the unusual shrubs

The rocks and stones of a former dwelling

Evidence of a life once lived.

The birds she’d chase

The Bull she stared at


Curious as to his size.

Then she died.

We buried her in the lot next door

Her favourite place

Where I could always find her

When she escaped

The confines of the yard where she slept

Concrete outer walls

Wooden gate

Food bowls

The outdoor tap

Her own “space”

Just a shelter, not her home

Never a dog house

For she did not live there.

Merely a place to go

When I was not around,

Or wanted to bathe her.

All these surrounds

Was nothing to her

She loved ‘the great outdoors’

Only thing she loved more

Was to be

Near me.

She would sneak in

And roam and sometimes ruin

The arrangement of the house

Unbeknownst to me

At unallotted times.

Not then fully house trained

She was getting there


I liked her sitting by me

Head on strong paws

Listening to the radio.

Then I was tired

I forgot to close the back door

(Or did I?)

I had done it before.

I lay on the bed

And slept the strangest sleep


To find her there


In the en-suite

Such an indefinable feeling….

She was more than a puppy

A mongrel whom no one would buy

But I.

I had to set fire to

And burn her corpse

So that when we sealed her grave

No other dog or animal

Or human being

Would be able to dig her up.

Her disintegrating body.

I tried not to cry

But I still remember

Time was…

She made me smile

Annoyed me

Dare I say, loved me?

And trusted me even then

Checked on me

Kept me company

Kept me on my toes

Kept me busy

Worrying about her.

Protected me

From myself

And more.

Time was.


Ode To Death


Books in a case

All a-jumble

Papers and documents

Ready to crumble

None from this year

None perennial

Except perhaps the Bible

(Or should I say Bibles?)

And books on religious teachings

And religion

Even Demons and Devils.

Films, CDs, DVDs

All from a time past

A world forgotten

But still remembered Classics.

Leaves fallen, pages missing, backs torn and broken


Absent Jackets

And Covers

No longer cared for

Cassettes and tapes.

Used, used-up

No longer meaningful

Occupying a space, a case

Whose value is in question

While housing irrelevant






Like a Carcass

Not quite an Artifact

A Relic.

Not even a Reminder

For no-one knows what’s there.

Would have to check

And try to recall the why and “what’s-it”.

Were they ever read?  Listened to?

The magazines?  Videos?  Films viewed?

To what end, for what purpose?

Just for something to do

And collect.

To seem intelligent

To appear knowledgeable

Then cast away

Shoved away


To someplace

Out of sight of daily living

Hidden from view

Of all, bar the occasional Guest

Who welcomes Death

Seeing it in truth

Not a ruse

A ploy to deceive

But in all they eat and drink and breathe

Of the Past

Lingering Languishing

In a Case.

A Case of Death –

Of Life




Not recovered, Unrecoverable….hope.

No point pretending

As even with new binding

Staples or Glue

They have been discarded



In their past ‘existence’


Not fit for requirements

Merely serving a purpose

To those who did not know

What they really needed.

Providing a “show”

Of IMAGINED possibilities

Potential yearned for

In the vanity of self-deception.


Of the negative self

That they were.

Books In A Case

All in a jumble

Papers and Documents

Ready to Crumble

None from this Year

None Perennial

Except perhaps…


The Bible

Which says in part

“Dust Thou Art”.





Inspiration From Looking Down


A Stone On The Ground.

What first catches our eye
Might not be what we need to see
Just the attraction
To show us the Truth within the Beauty.

When I took this photo I was relaxing in a garden.  Having looked up and around at all the beauty of Nature, I glanced down. There at my feet was the most beautiful refreshing “arrangement” of fallen pieces of Nature’s bloom.  After drinking it in, I took this photo.
A couple days later I looked at the photo,  and saw the stone. That is what I needed to see.

Inspiration sometimes comes from looking down.



The street is deserted
Devoid of all human movement
Except my own.

In its desertedness I find comfort
In my aloneness peace
As in a desert.

Desolation does not engulf me
When no other Human I see
I am not alone.

I have my thoughts
I have my memories
I have me.

Though the street is deserted
Evidence is there
That others came this way too.


My daughter worked at one

I used to sit in this one

In Barbados ne’er a one

In Dalston there is one

McDonald’s McDonald’s McDonald’s

All the children screaming for one

McDonald’s McDonald’s McDonald’s

Can’t find a Wimpy
Can’t see a Burger King
In most parts of London
‘Cause this McDonald’s
Doing everything
Even gentryfying its design
To keep up with the Times
Still it’s good for something:
When I need a toilet
I too scream