I wrote "College" about when I went to college after leaving school. I did a brickwork course for three years. But I knew it wasn't for me but kept going to finish it. I didn't like the idea of laying bricks my whole life. So was glad to leave it there in the past, under its own weight. 

College


The tap of a stretcher against another, buttering up the Flemish 
bond. Things laid out before me, a building up of maturity. 
the wall of knowledge that leads us through life

a slide and heave of trowel under sloppy mortar, a tilt and pull 
back, leaving a slug like trail. The bed to rest a brick, the tip tap 
of handle. A knock knock on an empty house door.

I built what I could before I left with a not knowing of the future
what you build in life should have support. The lintel became too 
heavy and eventually I had to carry my own load

when I see empty buildings and old warehouses with windows
sad looking and broken. I know I made the right choice, to let 
bricks sit under their own guilt, their own weight. 





Where we live there are farm fields, and with it crows. Whenever you disturb a crow you get the feeling they are trying to not show what they are up to. They have a very mischievous look about them. A comical 'I'm not up to anything' walk away. 

Crows


They’re in the fields
about one hundred of them,
puffing into the air
scraped bits of burnt toast
flaked paint off an iron gate.

left over seeds lye scattered
peppered from the combine
and the crows know it
barking at each other, to each
other.

there’s about one hundred
swirling, swinging, hopping,
walking as if their hands are behind 
their back, a murder of Corvus

silk black feathers, coal black
faces with a hint of grey to the beak,
flying up as I come by, as if they 
weren’t up to anything
but I knew they were.





I wrote "Waterworks" about my grandad. He worked on the waterworks for most of his life. And what he did manually everyday he did emotionally to his family. Especially myself. he was an imposing figure. Helping us get along and mend things that needed it. 

​
Waterworks


His wellies sucked up the sloppy mud 
like a child using a straw. 
The slurp, slurp of pulling up, out.

In his toolbox were instruments to bend, solder,
persuade, connect, rub, gel, smooth down;

A box for life too. bringing the family together,
building a bond between us all, smoothing
out teenage years. mending broken bones
and relationships. 

He once laid a pipe across the Dee Estuary,
hand picked to do the job.
they worked around the tidal flow
digging deep, spirit leveling at an angle
to let things flow, release, pass on through.

His elbow joints stiffened with age
copper pipe fingers struggling to bend,
knees arthritic from damp air and rain soaked 
days. 

Then his soul came to the coupling of life
saying goodbye and flowing to meet Hetty. 

now we stand on the other side,
wondering if we will ever see each other again.