Poetry

Far now from Eden, memory almost lost Of what we were and of the shameful deed, The crime, for which we suffer. Listen to me. Your father has forsaken you. Come down from that cross, Jesus. Admit the truth. God’s, not mankind’s, was the original sin. Teach us

There’s a dead rat beside the bins by the tables laid out with curries rice and bread gaffer taped paper cloth flapping in the wind like a tattered prayer flag where the boys sit on the railings full of bravado and hopeless dreams scuffed trainers dusty and wet pinched

Cogent within writin’ Over Trump's steel walls they could not climb US radio waves warned, war of the world aliens landing Refugees seekin’, solace, safely from war torn Aliens r but u and i, mere human Greed supplies trade routes, trucks and dingies England invited windrush, promise Of

London fog replacing Hong Kong humidity Drizzle lingering Where typhoon once rattled on window panes Grey skies folding over memories Of blinding subtropical sun An umbrella That has sheltered me Across two continents The Thames carrying echoes of Victoria Harbour Its tides tugging at an anchor dropped decades ago My

She never remembered ever having a home, they were always travelling; her Mummy, Daddy, her twin brother and two sisters. She once asked : “What is Taliban?” and was given a sharp smack and told never to utter that word again. Across hills, through eerie forests, between mountains, wading across rivers,