There’s a croissant for my breakfast
Spaghetti bolognaise for lunch
A Hungarian tart for teatime
Danish pastries for my brunch
A Community Picnic
He’s my dad
He’s my son
I’m full of energy
I’m all done
There’s food to be had
True that be
I’ll walk it off
It’s Gaviscon for me!
Paper Is A Good Listener
Paper is a good listener
With an eloquence serene
The scrawling nib that writes
The thoughts of what I mean
8th December 1868
A historic moment
A milestone in time
The issued royal charter
By Victoria’s sign
To grant this town
Of shoddy fame
The right to define
Its future aims
Remembering Srebrenica
Trucks with shouting tannoys
Came circling the town
Protectors imploring residents
To a supposed safe compound
Handed over like cattle
Protectors turned perpetrators
Sending victims to a slaughter
Leaders unveiled as fabricators
When The Story Breaks of Genocide’s Wake
To witness, to hear
To release a tear
From safe havens far
Of a genocide scar
Reports incoming
Of random machine gunning
Pictures of a land
Where children once ran
Knowing Courage
Knowing your neighbour
Whom you greeted
Turned upon you
In a dreadful night
Knowing your hometown
Where your ancestors grew old
To be told you’re a stranger
By a stranger invading your home
If I Could Dream
If I could dream
I’d picture a sky blanket blue
The sun waving its rays
The sea flowing so calm
The sand unblemished by feet
The beach free and pure
The hammock between the palm trees
Waiting for me Continue reading “If I Could Dream”
A Market Memory
A child I was
With mum and dad
Developing memories
Of times we had
A walk from home
An afternoon spent
A stroll past chimneys
Of biscuit scent
Batley Food Bank
Beyond the back of Square’s town hall
Lies a vault of precious haul
A bank that deals not in silver nor gold
But a commodity priceless from times of old Continue reading “Batley Food Bank”