Skinny arms,

Freckled skin,

Still buried by the clothes I’m in,

Still looking younger than my years,

Still selectively hearing ears,

Am I changing,


Still sweet,

But not naive,

I see in shades of grey nuance,

Still loving,

But know the world sometimes does not,

Still hopeful,

In a world hope forgot,

Not a chameleon,

But those blue eyes

Have seen a lot,

Steadily growing,

Stealthily changing.


Tomorrow night, I’m performing poetry at the ‘It’s a wrap’ closing of the Egypt exhibit in the Manchester Museum while they transform the museum. I thought I’d share this poem about how the word ‘Egypt’ has fascinated me and still does…


The very word sounds mystical,


Conjuring visions of an antique land of gold buried in sand,

Where animals and gods combine,

Temples and sun align

Pyramids as old as time,


The word brings an antique glow,

To a young mind.

Reformation 500

A poem to commemorate 500 years since Martin Luther nailed his beliefs to the church door and began the Reformation.

In the beginning

Was the word,



Of corruption, 

nailed for all to see.


The weapon of the Holy See,

Threat of flame for heresy.
In the beginning

Was the word,


Printed in the common tongue,

Spread from nation to nation,

A king searching for marital bliss

Seized on this,

An answer sublime,

Where church and state combine.
In the beginning,

Was the word,

Painted over ruined images.

Broken beauty,

Ruined churches a plenty

Bloodshed, gore,


Persecution, war,

Two tribes set Europe aflame,

All in the Almighty’s name.
In the beginning,

Was the word,


A crusade turned 

Civil war in the name of faith,

Brother against brother

Over divine grace,

One word caused 


A new world, Genesis,

Reformation became a bloody revolution.

Human rights

A human has the right to live,

The right to love and be loved in return,

The right to grow, 

the right to learn.
A human has the right to be safe

live free from fear

The right to live 

without flows of tears.
Your rights are their rights,


Deprive them,

Deny them

you deny yours and mine.
Rights are rights ,

be it in the remains of a bombed city,

A refugee camp

Or the streets of Britain.

Dear children

Dear Children


Dear children,

Despite what they tell you, 

Despite those harsh tests they impose on you,

Where they measure you,

Unfairly compare you.

With fronted adverbials

Rough worded questions designed to trick you

They demoralise you.

Dear children,

Your curiosity

Your creativity is all that matters to me.

The Sphinx 

Pharaohs, conquerors come and go but the Sphinx remains….

The Sphinx 

I lie upon the arid sand,

A relic from an ancient land.

One face,

Many names


Horus on the horizon,

Father of terror.

My secrets are my own,

Such secrets unknown,


I’ve seen it all,

Mighty men,

Would be gods,



Keeping power by majesty, sword and gun.

Iron men easily corrode.

I lie upon the sands,

I gaze and smile,

Adored by those 

From beyond the banks of the Nile.