Why did she go back?
This brave lady.
To continue her father’s work
In a country torn by conflict.
Why did she go back
To the cheers of her party?
Benazir Bhutto.
A woman’s role model.
Unacceptable to many.
Her calls for freedom
And end to poverty, enslavement
Were challenges to settle.
Her death a tragic ending
With democracy fading.
Dynasties emerging.
Her party re-arranging.
Oh! Why did she go back?
We need not ask the question.
She went to serve her country.
Her name now part of its history
Beneath her fathers.
Their sacrifice unending.
More will follow….



While the children play in the sunshine,
People stroll and converse.
There are chairs and tables where some dine.
As I sit here writing verse.

The occasional smoker lights up
And cars pass in the street.
A Yorkshire terrier pup
Under a chair is fast asleep.

It’s Friday eve in the sun.
Buildings rise to the sky.
The country may be undone.
How many of us know why?

No alien landing here now
Would see anything wrong.
There’s no welcome anyhow.
Each sings their own song.

Our economy may shrink
But fountains gleam in the light.
Let’s all go out for a drink!
Everything will be alright.

At Canary Wharf 2011.


What’s going on?
Where has all the money gone?
A million here.
A billion there.
It’s still unclear.
Does nobody care?
Who will win?
Can’t the world combine?
Greed is the sin,
But everything’s ‘fine’
Nobody knows.
Some think they do.
Is there enough for me and you?
But where HAS all the money gone?
Is it a mighty con?
Will the plastic card
Give a shock too hard
Like the non-arrival
Of cash for survival?
Tell us, if you know.
Where DID all the money go?


They left their homes
For safety to prove.
At least it’s summer
While they have to move.

They left furniture:
Carpets with regret
And had to find somewhere
For the pet.

To test the building’s
likelihood for fire.
They slept on floors
And in rooms for hire.

Children of their
Neighbours wept.
Some old people said,
They had not slept.

They miss their homes
And don’t know where to go.
At least it’s summer;
That softens the blow.

No blow compares with
Deaths at Grenfell Tower.
But survivors, you know,
Are people without power!


There’s politics on the radio
And on the internet.
There’s politics on the tele
In case the people forget.
There’s no politics in the street
No matter who you meet.
There’s leaflets through the letter box
And posters in the shops
Telling you which party
Means to come out tops.
You can vote for Labour
For Tory or Lib Dem
As for the UKIP party:
Please don’t vote for them!

You can volunteer to canvas
If you really would like
So long as you don’t join
Theresa on her hike.
I’m thinking to vote for Jeremy
He looks so inofensive.
The Torys seem to have lifestyles
that are very expensive.
If they wont keep quiet
Till after the 8th June
I may go to Australia
Or even to the moon.
But I bet Theresa May
Would even find me there
With her hard electioneering
And perfectly combed hair.
For if I hear her repeated
comments about playing it tough
I will just switch off everything.
Because I’ve had enough!


I’ve heard a rumour,
It’s the British sense of humour
That will save us in the end.
War ships near Dover
Will not make us run for cover.
We will laugh. On this,
you can depend.

When the bombs are flying,
You will not hear us crying.
We will send them back, from
where they they came.
When buildings are falling,
You will hear us calling
Our enemy a funny name.

I love the British Isles.
The frequency of her smiles.
Her diversity’s a weapon and
And yes, the rumour’s true.
I’m laughing still, aren’t you?
Though humour may be a our last
defence to wield!