See now, the grey turn to silver
Threads in dark winter’s night,
The promise of golden days ahead
When summer’s sun my soul will warm

Threads in dark winter’s night
Paint a picture in the trees
When summer’s sun my soul will warm
The picture will come to life

Paint a picture in the trees
Though winter’s cold my soul does chill
The picture will come to life
As the earth moves round to face the sun

Though winter’s cold my soul does chill
Soon the thickening ice will melt
As the earth moves round to face the sun
The picture becomes complete

Soon the thickening ice will melt
And I will dance in summer’s sun
The picture becoming complete
As grey turns to silver then to gold


Can I claim the land where I am now a foreigner,
And maybe always was,
As I sit beneath the rowan tree
That sturdily guards all souls?

This place was always their home,
The home I wanted for myself
For all eternity,
That never in time was mine,
Though when always so far away
I yearned for this place that always I called home

I heard so many names,
Knew the folks from stories told,
And through such tales felt one of them,
And now I sit here, read their names,
And long to claim this land


I, on the hill waiting for you
You, on the hill, waiting there too
How many years have passed since I left
At our sad parting I felt so bereft
So many things have we both been through

Tears fall gently in morning dew
Is there a storm beginning to brew
Now come together the warp and the weft
I, on the hill

Oh such a puzzle there is no clue
As to why we parted when skies were blue
Oh how tragic this terrible theft
Of Love that was born in a rock’s hard cleft
Now there is silence, a waiting it’s true
I, on the hill

Take Seven 30th. October

The ancient iron CHEST stood in the corner. It was engraved on her memorry. Susie had tried to to BEG to get into the old building. Normally it was open all the time, but since the virus things had been very different. Everything had had to be locked up. Susie was heartbroken, as it was her Go To place always when life got tough. It wouldn’t have been everybody’s CUP of tea, being so old and dark, and, in the winter, very cold. But there was something about it for Susie. In the current situation however, she had been denied entry. She had to CURTAIL her desires. Her DESK was covered in notes and bits of paper where she had begun to write about the place, although she hardly knew where to begin. She would have loved to have been able to DRAW, as there was nothing like a good pencil drawing, she felt. This lockdown due to the virus felt awful. Almost FINAL. There were no HALF measures.

Susie, in her desperation, began to HOUND the churchwarden, wondering when the building was going to open up again. It was steeped in history, and it was almost All Hallows Eve. A very special time for Susie. The very first time she had been into the building, she had felt there to be so many souls in the walls, all with their own stories to tell.

On that first day that she had entered the building, she had had a snoop round, and found, behind the altar, an old blue VELVET curtain. Obviously it had known better days! But oh how glad she had been to find the building OPEN. There were also some papers tied up with RIBBON behind the altar. How intriguing, Susie thought.

Susie hardly dared tell anybody her feelings about the place. People would have thought her barmy, and have deemed her in need of a SHRINK. Souls in walls were not exactly the order of the day with most people. But Susie was convinced.

She let out a long SIGH, sitting in her Study. She hadn’t had much SLEEP lately, her mind being very disturbed by the virus. She looked at the SMALL photograph of the place that she had on her desk. Was this ever going to be over? She made up a long SPEECH in her mind, to give to the Diocese about the closing of the church. After all, churches were meant to be open…..weren’t they? She didn’t expect she would get anywhere, but all she could do was TRY.

Suddenly, the WIND began to blow, and a door slammed to. Susie jumped. Then she looked at her watch. It was midnight on October 31st.


We stopped today under the motorway bridge,
Traffic roared above our heads,
Birdsong rose above the roar,
Clear and pure in summer’s air.

Traffic roared above our heads,
Unexpected was the sound,
Clear and pure in summer’s air,
Piercing our hearts exquisitely.

Unexpected was the sound,
Birds sing in strange places,
Piercing our hearts exquisitely,
Nature deafening traffic’s roar.

Birds sing in strange places,
Under concrete, tar and steel,
Nature defeating traffic’s roar,
Nothing can ever silence them.

Under concrete, tar and steel,
Sounds and senses mix and throb,
Nothing can ever silence them,
We stopped today under the motorway bridge.


I’m blind now and my world is getting dark
No longer can I see sights I cherished
The movement of the birds, their outlines stark
Against the darkening sky, it all has perished,
The blossom in the Spring that thrilled my soul
Driving winter’s night away and bringing light
Onward now but the sadness takes its toll
Knowing never again will I have sight
But there are things I do not need to see
My spirit sees much more than could my eyes
I go inside my head and then I’m free
I know that despite all I gained the prize
A clearer sight of Love the purest joy
My darkness turned to light I now enjoy.

Published! (From Jane Dougherty)

I have just downloaded Jane’s book onto Kindle, and these are some ofbthe most beautiful poems I have ever read, they go deep into the heart. So wonderful. Well done Jane 😊

Jane Dougherty Writes

Today’s the day, my mum’s birthday and publication day for my first chapbook of poetry! I never thought I’d do it, but never say never. Having received enough rejections from literary agents for several lifetimes, it would have seemed like pure masochism to submit my poems to a publisher. We’re only constructed to take so much punishment. So, I did it myself. Quick, simple and completely painless. Except for the cover which is always a pain.

The poems are new but the themes are old. The usual, but mainly about water, what it says on the tin. Here’s what it looks like


and if you’d like to get your very own copy here are some amazon links

Link .com
Link Australia
Link Canada
Link India

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When everything else has gone
When you are stripped of all that you ever knew
When you are on your knees
When all have deserted you
When weakness overwhelms you 
And you think there is nothing left
When it is dark
And cold
And the rain pours in
There is a Love
That dwells within you
“I am with you always
Even unto the end of time”



The mourning dove cried out one morn
And I cried too in loud lament
Such grief I knew, my heart was torn
The mourning dove cried out one morn
And as I cried I was forlorn
In agony my garments rent
The mourning dove cried out one morn
And I cried too in loud lament


When the fear goes and peace descends
When life gets too much and everything ends
When your life has gone and you breathe no more
When the Grim Reaper has pushed on your door
All that remains is love

When you’ve tried so hard to live out your life
When you know that you sit on the edge of a knife
When all around you are having their fun
But you know full well that your life is done
All that remains is love

When none understood you and you were alone
When you searched and searched to find your home
When lIfe let you down and God disappeared
And everything hit you and all that you feared
All that remains is love

When you tried to show that love is so real
When no one believed you for they couldn’t feel
When the love in your heart came through all the dark
When your life became hell with suffering so stark
All that remains is love

I loved you my friends though you didn’t know
Convention made blocks and that love couldn’t flow
And then a pandemic said we couldn’t touch
And oh how the pain became far too much
All that remains is love



When the fire rages in the night
And the heat of the day sizzles your soul
When there’s no one there to say they care
And those that you know just can’t understand
When the chasm sits between you again
And your words fall into it banging their heads
And the cold cold distance between you grows
You die in the night but no one knows
And you know it is best for everyone’s sake
This is what pain is


When winter approaches and darkness comes
My body freezes as fear takes me in
When doors are closed and no one can hear
The screams that pierce the heavy night air
I am lost in a vortex spinning alone
A tiny black box has become my home
A box where nobody else can get in
Not one that I chose but was chosen for me
I stretch out my arms feel only the wall
And know I am trapped and cannot get out
But in the black box I can reach the world
Through the iPad that still I’m allowed
Virtual friends are all that I have
No human comfort is there for me now
But oh how the iPad has saved my life
Please stay close by me and keep me alive


Did you tell me
Your arm was there
And then
The other side
Of the room?
Did you listen
The most horrible things
And act like a stone?
Did you tell me
I could walk away
If I liked?
Just after
You would
Be there
For ever?
Is my head
Like jelly?
Do I wobble?
Do you wobble?
Are we all wobbling?
I don’t feel safe
I’m about to fall
Off the wire
Did you offer
Your hand
Make me grovel?

Written for Sammi Cox’s 13 Day Halloween Challenge.

It had been a really weird kind of Halloween. Well, weirder than usual. I mean, ghosties and ghoulies are not really all that common in normal circumstances. Whatever normal is. But on Halloween you EXPECT to see ghosties and ghoulies. Except that she didn’t. Well, not exactly. Carol, I mean.

It had been quite a busy day at school. The Maths
teacher had given the class enough homework to last a year, Carol felt. She was no good at Maths. Still, she had Halloween to look forward to.

It was one one of those times Carol really enjoyed. Seeing all the little kids in their outfits, the lighted pumpkins in windows. Oh yes, it was a great time.

Carol climbed onto the school bus to go home. It went through all the villages, and she was the last one to be dropped off. That meant it was quite late by the time she got home. It was certainly dark.

As the bus drew up at the bus stop, Carol immediately felt that something was not quite right. There were no street lights on, and no lights on in any of the houses.

She got off the bus, and watched it disappear into the distance. Everywhere was deserted. What on earth had happened?

Carol began to shiver. She was scared. Where were Mum and Dad? Where was her little brother? Where were Granny and Grandad?

Hitching her satchel up onto her shoulder, she began to walk. Her teeth, by now, were chattering, partly with cold, and partly with fear. She hardly knew where she was, with no street lights, or anything. There wasn’t even a dog barking.

She was starting to get hungry. It seemed a long time since lunch time. And even then, she had only had one apple.

As she passed the ancient church she looked up into the sky, and there it was that she saw it. A HUGE witch. It seemed to cover the whole sky. It was laughing in a kind of manic way, then occasionally grimacing. Carol screamed. But the witch didn’t go.

Then it started to speak. “I’ve already taken everyone else, and now I’m coming for you.”

Carol stood, paralysed.

Suddenly, there was a huge flash in the sky, and the witch disappeared. Then, just as suddenly, the church bells started to ring wildly.

Carol started to run. She ran and ran, dropping her satchel on the ground as she went. Soon, she was exhausted. She began to walk around like a zombie.

Then, suddenly, she saw old Mr. Grocock, the farmer coming towards her. She ran up to him.

“Oh Mr. Grocock, what happened?”

“Aarrggh,” said Mr. Grocock. “’Tis the night of ghosties and ghoulies. Come on. Let’s go back to the church. We’ll be safe there.”

They made their way back to the church. The bells had stopped ringing. And when they got there, there was no church any more. It had gone. Disappeared.

Carol and Mr. Grocock looked at each other, then clung onto each other.

“Come on my dear. It’ll be alright in the morning. It must be something to do with that cheese that I ate.”


An Autumny Repost

A leaf is a leaf
Whether on the tree or on the ground
Whether green or yellow
Red or brown
A leaf is a leaf
Beauteous in all its shades
And even
When dying
A leaf is a leaf
Though death may come to the leaf
We glory in its fiery demise
We love the leaf
Or dying



Waters so deep called to me
Did I have a choice?
Could I answer the call
Or could I walk away?
Fear swept over my soul that day
As I beheld their depths
The thing I’d always feared had caught me up
I heard the dreaded word
Could this really be me?
Somehow I always knew that one day
It would catch me
Call me
And as I looked it in the eye
Hairless before my time
I knew
There was no choice
The waters pulled me in
Sucked me dry
In a maelstrom of tears
That remained captive
Within my soul
The waters so deep around me
Left no room for tears
The swirling waters gave no time to think
And I entered my new world


In empty space,
Reeling from cutting words,
I look for the doors to leave here,
I sit
Unable to see the doors, sight
Gone, I cannot walk, held
By afflictions
Trapped, blind

Your help leaving
The arrows of your words
Is impossible, dismayed, flinch
As pain
My body and my soul, for you
Blamed me for being blind,
I did not see
You wave


“Sit up,” she said
It was an order
But how could I?
There I was, laid on the sofa
Studying the ceiling had become my chief occupation
My body so weak I could hardly sit up
But she insisted
“Sit up,”
“Have you been constipated?” she had asked
As she examined my lower abdomen
“No, exactly the opposite,” I had said
My antennae were wobbling about
Thinking they had detected something
What had she felt in my abdomen?
If I was honest
My abdomen had not been quite right
Not for some time
But I didn’t want to think about that
“Sit up,” she commanded
What did she want me to sit up for?
I obeyed
And immediately fell into
The hugest retching coughing fit ever
“You’ve got a cough,” she said
“Great observation,” I thought
“It’s O.K.” I said
It’s nothing”
“It’s quite a deep one,” she said
With a look of concern
I continued to cough and retch
She continued to be concerned
“You smell nice,” I said to her
“What have you got on?”
“I have no idea what I have got on,” she said
Her clothes were beautiful
She kept covering up her long black hair
Then the covering slipped revealing her flowing hair again
She was close to me
Very close
I felt her anxiety and worry
It closed around me, suffocating almost
“You need to go to the hospital,” she said
My mind was in denial
“It’s just a cough,” I said
She felt the lumps around my neck again
“You need these lumps looking at
It’s probably only an infection
We need to get you the right antibiotics”
I relaxed, laid back and studied the ceiling again
The embossed pattern on the sofa made my skin itch again
My spots were oozing blood
“Just an allergy,” I said
But inside I knew something serious was going on
I pushed the thought away
“I’ll make an urgent referral,” she said
Now I really WAS worried
Inside my mind I wasn’t going
It was just an allergy
She left
I studied the ceiling again
Not much had changed
It was still the same
Same colour
Same cracks
I began to writhe in agony
My skin was itching, crawling, on fire
“Quick, get water,” I said to my husband
“Put it on my skin “
He did
But my skin was alive
Leading a life of its own
I hadn’t signed the consent form
And neither did I sign the consent form for cancer
But I had it


Trees wave gently in autumn sun
Grieves my heart for the coming cold
Leaves fall down in the midst of glory
Heaves my soul in this time of gold

Blue and white will soon take their toll
Through the dark night I’ll wither
Too many times I’ve given in
Do your worst, gold come hither


She kissed my head that day
In the grey green room
With the blinds pulled down
My mother, who never kissed,
Repeatedly, absent mindedly
While everyone looked at the ground
I wondered why
Did she really care after all?
All I could see was the nurse’s plastic apron
And I wondered
Just wondered
And fear started to overtake me
Why did she need a plastic apron?
Bodily fluids
What was she going to do to me?
I had only come for an infection
To get the right antibiotic
But now I had cancer
How did that happen?
The plastic apron scared me more than anything
But why was it flapping?
She hadn’t tied it round her waist
Where was she going to take me?
I hadn’t expected to stay
Hadn’t booked for bed and breakfast
But here they were
Trying to make me stay
Oh that vice got tighter and tighter
Some daisy chain!
It was all so business like
No comforting bedside manner
No, just honest truth
Stripped of kindness
“I will always tell you the truth,” he said
The nurse studied the ground again
Why was the ground so popular?
“I’m going home,” I said
“I’ll come back next week,”
And do you know what,
They let me!
The nurse helped me on with my blood stained T-shirt
Saying “Awwww” when she saw the blood
From the oozing spots on my neck and back
That was the first bit of kindness I had had
A nurse pushed me to the car in my wheelchair
It was hot, oh so hot, on my poor oozing skin
And that was when I cried
I had cancer

TAKE SEVEN 23rd. October

Brenda had always felt like a bit of BAGGAGE. Never looking quite right. Never acting quite right. But she was proved to be BRAVE later in life. Never the social BUTTERFLY she surprised everybody. She’d always hated the CHERUB in her father’s garden. But she’d had no CHOICE in the matter. It was a weird COLOUR. A kind of washed out pale green, with bits of discolouration on now. Sometimes she would try to COVER it over with the foliage from the weeping willow tree. That was exactly how she felt about it – weeping.

It was winter time. Brenda breathed in the CRISP cold air. She was totally without FLAIR, in her baggy pants and storm proof coat. Not that it HURT anything. She wasn’t bothered at all. She shivered, and wished that something could INOCULATE her against these bad feelings about all things cherub and fairy like. It could have been done in an INSTANT. Just one swift JAB and that could have been it. No NEEDLE could hurt her as much as that damned cherub.

Starting to feel the cold really badly, she decided it was time to go in for a MEAL. Maybe have a read of the PAPER. Yes, that would help her. She was not PRIM, and would probably take off her outdoor clothes and lounge around in her jammies. She could SCAN the stories and take her mind off grotesque cherubs a fairies. She could TAP into something different.

Brenda could never really understand her hatred of cherubs and fairies. It was not quite normal. It worried her. Why could she not bear to see a cherub in the garden? After all, they were quite commonplace.

She sat thinking for a while, in the flickering firelight. And then it was that she remembered. It was TRUE whatshe remembered. She had had a TWIN. The twin had died at birth, and was buried in the churchyard. Her father had taken her to see the grave once. On the top of the grave was a cherub.


I can do what I like
Wear red and orange and yellow and purple
All at once
With odd socks
And a strange hat
I can wear sandals and socks
Oh how crass
I can wear a chick dress
On a good day
Blue nail varnish
With orange trousers
Oh yes
Yes I can
I’ve had cancer
And I’m still alive

THE BEDDING STORE – My first Outing after Cancer

Slumped in a wheelchair in the bedding store
I spied my body in a mirror
On a pillar
But oh what a shock!
Was that really me?
Lolling to one side
Eyes sunken in almost non existent face
Flesh all gone
Lost in a coat that was far too big for me
I recoiled
This was NOT me
How could it be?
Inside my mind was active
I was alive
I was “normal”
But outside I was dead
Or at least dying
I had “beat” cancer
But I looked dead
Like someone not quite right
How could this be?
How had I come to this?
“Oh look at that
Isn’t it pretty”
My pusher exclaimed
And there they were
All over the place
Little birds and butterflies
Adorning the bedding
I couldn’t raise any interest
Beds frightened me
I’d been in one for eight months
Almost died
One night the Grim Reaper called
But I sent him packing
He had no hold over me
I had the Last Rites
But I surprised them all
I refused to go
This was NOT the journey I was on
And here I was
In the Bedding Store
Looking half dead
Oh what a shock!

BALD (A Cancer Poem)

“I’ll get the wig woman to come and see you” he said
The haematologist that was
I couldn’t have cared less about wigs
All I wanted was to be bald eau naturelle
I thought about Sinnead O’Connor
She was bald
I’d always fancied being like her
And anyway, wigs scratch your head
It didn’t take long
Just little bits here and there
Then, suddenly, it was all gone
There I was, shining clean
With my new bald head
I wore it with pride
And then
One day
I caught sight of myself in the mirror in the lift
“Ooh look, I’m bald”
But not only that
My face was fat too
Like a balloon
Talk about moon faced
All those steroids
And then
A woman
Said to me
“You’re beautiful”
And I was


I’ve never been good at being brave
And here I was
About to fail
At cancer
I heard the words but I didn’t
“You have cancer
You may die,”
Well that was a bang on the head
For a day filled with pink blossom
But he ignored the pink blossom on the trees
And talked about daisy chains
“It’s like a daisy chain,” he said
“It goes from lymph node to lymph node”
And instantly
I was back at my grandparents’ farm again
Just a little girl in a green field
Making a pretty daisy chain
But this daisy chain was not pretty
Oh no
It held me in a vice
From which there was no escape
And here I was, trapped,
Trapped in cancer
I used to be able to run
But there was no running now
And the daisy chain could not be broken
Except, possibly,
By the horror of chemo
No hair chemo
Not that I was bothered about hair
I never liked mine anyway
“It might be nice to be bald,” I thought
But in order to get bald
I had to have a bag
Well, many of them
Over time
Bags filled with poison
“We get you better in here”
One nurse said
But better was far from my mind
I was still stuck on daisy chains
And pretty white and yellow flowers
Entwined around my lymph nodes
And what are lymph nodes anyway?
I never saw one
But I had to have one taken out
For a biopsy
Wedge shaped it was, they said,
“I’m going to pinch one of your lymph nodes,”
The surgeon said
“But your chest is full of tumours
Not sure the air can get round them”
My mind boggled
Just a narrow tunnel
Through which air was passing
No wonder I hooted like an express train
Going through a tunnel
When I breathed
But those daisies
I hung onto those daisies
Maybe one day they would be pretty

Written For Sammi Cox’s 13 Day Halloween Challenge.

Fred was well known in the village. So was his wife, Freda. And so was the fact that Fred and Freda really did not get on well together at all. In fact, so bad was it that the vicar was not in the least bit surprised to find Fred asleep flat out on one of the pews one time early in the morning when he went in for his morning stint of prayer.

As the vicar walked towards the pew where Fred was, Fred started to rub his eyes and sit up. He looked blearily towards the vicar.

“What’s up Fred?“ asked the vicar. “Is Freda at it again?”

“You could say,” replied Fred. “She isn’t half giving it to me. Enough to drive a man insane, I tell you.”

“Must have been a bit cold in here,” said the vicar. “I’ll get you some blankets for if you have to come again.”

“Thanks,” said Fred. “But I wish I could stop her nagging tongue.”

It soon started to get colder, it being the back end of the year, and Halloween was almost upon the village. A great deal was made of Halloween, and almost every window had a lighted up pumpkin in its window. The kids had a great time scooping the flesh out of the pumpkin, and making a mouth and eyes.

Fred was getting more and more overwhelmed by Freda’s constant nagging, and whilst he knew she had every reason to be constantly getting on at him, he couldn’t stand her onslaughts. He always had been lazy, and didn’t want to do much except collapse onto the sofa and read a newspaper and watch the Racing on the television. But Freda had quite a temper on her, and it could be frightening at times. The church became more and more inviting at nights, and the vicar had been true to his word and had put some blankets out for Fred. In fact he had started to call Fred his Nightwatchman.

October 31st. dawned, and Fred made his way home from the church. Freda was soon in full throttle. Fred felt himself getting madder and madder.

It was easy to get hold of pumpkins in the village , and it was the pumpkins that gave Fred the idea.

November 1st. came, and the vicar entered the church as usual. To his horror, there was Fred, sitting on the ground, with a gouged out pumpkin on one side of him, and Freda’s head on the other side, with her eyes gouged out, and some of the flesh on her face and head scooped away.

“Hello vicar,” said Fred. “Thought I’d make it a good Halloween this year. It needed to be spiced up a bit.”


I have just been listening to someone who wrote poems about his cancer. Like me, he had a blood cancer, with tumours. Listening to his experience brought back so much to me that I had buried. Though his experience was very different to mine. For starters, he is back to normal again now, and working normally as a Lecturer, which is what I used to be before this shit struck. For myself, as you know, the cancer and chemo messed my life up utterly, making me totally dependent upon other people, as I am both blind and wheelchair bound.

Upon listening to this man, and his poetry, I realised that there is so much more inside me that I want to say, that I have felt was too self indulgent to say. The same goes for my blindness. Yet that IS my life.

And so, I have decided that I MUST write about it. I am looking for new styles of poetry writing that suits the subject better.

I am kind of saying that you might see some of these poems appearing. I refuse now, to feel guilt at writing about it, as I used to.

This man has released me, and for that I am grateful. You can avoid these poems if they are too much for you. But I am no longer going to make apologies for writing them, as I used to. Cancer changes you. There is your life before cancer and your life after cancer. And for some, there is no after. For me, the after has been horrific and a daily battle. I would not wish this upon anyone.

So, let it begin,

Written for Sammi Cox’s 13 Day Halloween Challenge

Shelley had only been inside the church a few times before. It was where she had been christened, but most of her childhood and adult life had been spent roaming from town to town. She still regarded this place as her home, and vowed that one day she would return to live there, impossible though it seemed. But today was a very special day, her birthday. October 31st.

It had been a very strange year. Drawn inexorably to the church, she had spent many a weekend just sitting outside, recollecting, and taking in the atmosphere. And part of that atmosphere was provided by the church clock. It had stopped. At the exact time of her birth! Shelley could not get over it.

She had no idea at all whether the church was open or whether she would have to obtain the key from someone to unlock the door. But the vicar informed her she was in luck, as the door was permanently open. He gave her a sickly smile as he said he hoped she would find peace in there. For some reason, his top teeth slid around in his mouth as he spoke.

“You’d better mind though,” he said. “There’s bats in the belfry.”

Shelley started a bit. She hated bats. “Sometimes, if it warms up a bit, they come out and fly around,” he said, “Filthy little buggers.”

However, Shelley was not going to let that stop her. She had waited a long time for this.

“Want me to come in with you?” asked the vicar.

“Well, maybe you could come and show me the Baptism Register,” Shelley replied.

The vicar gave another sickly smile, and his teeth wobbled around his mouth again.

As they passed the Baptismal font, and then the table at the back of the church, the vicar exploded.

“Bloody kids,” he said. “Don’t know why people have ‘em. Look at that. Smarties in the Offering plate.” Shelley stifled a giggle.

The vicar disappeared off behind a heavy blue velvet curtain, and returned some moments later with the Baptismal records.

“What date did you say you were looking for?” He inquired.

“December 12th.” replied Shelley. I was born on October 31st. It’s my birthday today.”

“Oh,” said the vicar. “Well I hope you don’t find anything untoward in here. Bugger, look there. Bat crap. I told you they were filthy little buggers. I’ll fetch the dust pan and brush.”

Shelley shivered a little. She was beginning to wish she hadn’t come. The vicar re-appeared with the dust pan and brush, and began to attack the bat crap.

Shelley began to walk up to the front of the church, looking around her as she went. At the right hand side of the church near the Mary altar was a picture. It intrigued Shelley. She walked over to it, and looked at the picture. Suddenly, she saw the unmistakable outline of a bat hanging upside down from the bottom of the picture. She screamed, and suddenly all hell was let loose as the vicar struck up loudly on the organ, and all the bats came flying into the church from up in the belfry. As she ran hell for leather out of the church, the vicar started laughing.

“Happy Halloween,” he shouted.


They were all gone
Berries plump with new life
Already their life had journeyed
Plucked from
Green tree
As the summer sun died in skies
Now grey, winter waiting
Offstage, while birds
Feast, store…….

To see them through
Dark days and raging storms
We too have a banquet prepared
Take, eat,
The delights there for the taking
Your soul
And live through the darkest of nights
Sustained by Love offered
Freely, just take
And live


They had their first kiss on a moonlit night
He was in black and she was in white
The kiss lingered on at the river’s edge
On the grassy bank they made their pledge

They lost sense of time as he held her tight
Although it was dark her eyes were so bright
They heard violins on this soft green ledge
They had their first kiss

Neither one was aware of their terrible plight
She had on high heels they got a great fright
When both of them fell right into a hedge
When they disappeared the river was dredged
Her dress was now black what a terrible sight
They had their first kiss


In the black of night at the end of the road
I saw a bright light that in the dark glowed
My eyes were fixed on this wonderful sight
My heart moved on to the promise of light
I felt the movement of my heavy load

The light drew me on as my breathing slowed
I remembered the time when the black cock crowed
But now all was silent I gave up the fight
In the black of night

Once I was happy the joy of life flowed
But I was betrayed by a slimy toad
No one knew of my terrible plight
Or of the bonds that were holding me tight
But here in this place was freedom bestowed
In the black of night


Little things mean a lot to me,
Bring happiness I never knew before,
Joy that tells me I am free.

I cannot walk and I cannot see,
Life oozes out of every pore,
Little things mean a lot to me.

I live my life now by Love’s decree,
To eternal joy It has opened the door,
Joy that tells me I am free.

Birdsong wafts from every tree,
Waves kiss every shore,
Little things mean a lot to me.

Everything has its own degree
Of potential for life within its store,
Joy that tells me I am free.

Dancing on the waves of the sea,
How could I hope to find much more?
Little things mean a lot to me,
Joy that tells me I am free.


I’ll grab him
By the ghoulies
Just like
He grabbed me
And scrambled
My brains up
Into a mush
I’ll twist them
And pull them
Jest like
He did
My hair
Dragging me
The floor
No ghoulie
Will ever
Have been
So grabbed
Or pulled
Or twisted
Or punctured
Just watch


Now that the sobbing has run its course
I turn my eyes to gentler things
Trying with all my being to blot out
The fear within
The grief
The pain
Midst so much loss
And find that Nature is full
Though leaves are dying
They go out in a torrent of colour
Which blind eyes cannot see
But the heart knows is there
And though I cannot hold and see love
I know it is there
Never ending
Never dying like the leaves
A love that nothing can destroy
Even beyond this present life
No love can be entombed
For always
It will break the chains of existence
And go on for ever


I wake to a trembling of unknowing
In an unfamiliar world
Inside a weeping
My time is now short
Normality may never be tasted again
Outside, a fearful world
I wish to retreat
Back into a sleep of oblivion
But today you are coming to me
We will meet
Under the willow tree
With the birds who know no fear
And you will try to come to me
But today
In fear
I must say No


As I hear the liquid notes floating
On the babbling breeze
My heart begins to sing
For I know it is you making music
For my soul to hear
Inside there is a dancing
I float into space
Circling circling
And find you in the song and the dance
Our hands join
And soon
We are one


I look at you across the empty room
Sanitised, and safe
Our eyes leak messages
Carrying the longing
Soon there is a pool on the floor
Into which all our desires sink
Aching hearts beat in our breasts
How much longer can we contain our longings?
Silently we stare
Our arms starting to move
Soon they are outstretched
We move slowly across the pool
Carrying our desires
Then we move quickly
In desperation
The ache is too much
We fall into one another’s arms
Hold each other tightly
Moaning out our longings
Never will we let go
Covid be damned!