Bloody men are like bloody buses —You wait for about a yearAnd as soon as one approaches your stopTwo or three others appear.You look at them flashing their indicators,Offering you a ride.You’re trying to read...

New SeasonNo coats today. Buds bulge on chestnut trees,And on the doorstep of a big, old houseA young man stands and plays his flute.I watch the silver notes fly upAnd circle in the blue sky...

Another Christmas PoemBlood Christmas, here again.Let us raise a loving cup:Peace on earth, goodwill to men,And make them do the washing-up.

Write to amuse? What an appalling suggestion! I write to make people anxious and miserable and to worsen their indigestion.

On Waterloo Bridge where we said our goodbyes,the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.I wipe them away with a black woolly gloveAnd try not to notice I’ve fallen in loveOn Waterloo Bridge I am...

Making Cocoa For Kingsley AmisIt was a dream I had last weekAnd some kind of record seemed vital.I knew it wouldn’t be much of a poemBut I love the title.