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!


She sometimes dreams to fly away
A mission not a holiday,
To heal the poor with divine grace
In a warm and troubled place.
Leaving London’s wealth behind
To see what her soul can find.

Deep cradled are her ambitions
Of persuading politicians
To manage without disruption
A prompt end to corruption.
Switching on to hear the news
Yearning for some hopeful views,

She learns of massacres and wars
And turns away to do her chores
Then thinks how distant it all seems
So unreal – just like her dreams.
Yet of course it’s all too real,
But is she learning not to feel?


How to retain balance
For the digit in this
System of electronic people?
Help us before we are lost
in technology with voices
Not our own to ask
The questions no one
Dares to answer.

Huge need exists beneath
Celebrity’s glitter.
And lies! lies! from politics
That haunt the sound waves
And rouse us to temporary anger.
Caring is the exhausted doctor
Where bombs explode and children
God help them!
Prayers go unanswered.

We often walk to supermarkets,
Get stuck in traffic,
Walk dogs, stroke cats
Laugh with babies.
Help us! We are unable to
Make a difference
Because it is too late.

The check out girl smiled,
Her children are safe.
We paid the fuel bill.
The rent is in credit.
Small satisfactions?
Knowing what we do of the
Carnage elsewhere.

The end is invisible.
Ours is a guilty life.
Fragments of happiness drift
Through quiet skies
Spellbound,we seize them
To alleviate fear,
And time passes…..

Seeds of Redemption

What are these flowers
but remnants of wildness
By the ruins of a city?
They are reminders of
our lost splendour
and place in the sacred
memory of time.

What is this laughter?
It’s children playing
on concrete,
spraying red petals and
staining their thoughts
with the prints
of our crime.

Are they the emblems
of peace in the pathways
of the forgiven?
While a shadow of tears
falls like a veil
through our journey
in time?

This poem was inspired by climate changes and wars.