Some Attempts at Poetry

Poetry in Music: A Billy Joel poem

And so it goes…

In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along

I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I feel I said too much
My silence is my self defense

And every time I’ve held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so will you soon I suppose

But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break

And this is why my eyes are closed
It’s just as well for all I’ve seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you’re the only one who knows

So I would choose to be with you
That’s if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break

And so it goes, and so it goes
And you’re the only one who knows



Spring scent memoriesmimosa

The anise scent of yellowMimosa distracted me.

It was brought by the springwind which whispered memories

of the shimmering sishing Msasa leaves in Africa.

So soft and beautiful, they hide the horrors of the Gukurahundi

“the rain which washes away the chaff before the spring rains”

but not the blood on the hands of the tyrant.





so wet it is so

wash me again softly clean

to embrace the day





Fool that I am

How can I face you again

Without flailing foolishly or feebly fleeing

From frivolous offers of fancy-free flings?

Fool that I am

I have no fame or fortune to offer

So my favours and foibles will feebly fade

Into faltering fatuous phrases

Fool that I am

I have fallen for you

Fortitude faltering, I flee,

Frivolity is false – I want more.





Again we meet

Laughing comfortably

We enjoy the

Absence of any

Years apart

Smiling sillily

That’s what friendship is

Having no sense of

Ever being different together.

Ready to laugh and argue;

Easy to talk and feel as usual.




Like a boomerang, we go forwards to go back

to our hearts home where our mum’s wombs rest.

From light to dark and smooth to shoddy.

People simple but direct, not so friendly.

But it’s the home of our heart and soul,

darker Africa, so far and so near.

The warm people now despondent

about unrealised comforts, leached away by lazy overlords,

Maybe blamed on us, who give, build and take.


Where I die, twirl a thorn twig,

catch my ghost and take it home,

like a boomerang, back from where we came,

to the bosom of the family we left.

Then maybe I will rest.




It’s just too late

That line is  too straight,
it needs a deeper blue

with an iridescent hue…

D’ya think I’m God mate




Everyone everywhere should be screened

Let the camera capture

your face, your life, your ups and


And hers and his and theirs

All must be screened – t’will

make us feel safer and happier, until

we think about

Who screens

the Screeners.


Look at the screen

be obscene and herd:

you’re on tv!

This is our new morality

I was on tv

did you see me?



bottom shelf books.jpg   middle-shelf-books

English speaking Nostalgic from Africa with a tint of Irish and a hint of Danish

The Elite: The Story of the Rhodesian Special Air Service

What colour is my Parachute

The Jungle Book

The History of English Speaking People

Hornblower and the West Indies

Something of Value

Rob Roy

Robinson Crusoe

Memoirs of a Fox Hunting Man

Selous Scouts

Celtic Mythology

Rhodesia and Nyasaland

Out of Africa

Jock of the Bushveld

Natal and the Zulu Country

Lost Trails of the Transvaal



A puppy happy to see you home

A “Da-da” from the little Miss

Gluhwein on a frosty day.

Belly warming bliss


Gravy from a lamb roast

Coffee with beans on toast

A gap-toothed smile from the boy

Belly warming bliss