They disconnect
Your intellect
The tabloids
Every day
With headlines
Made to catch the eye
To stimulate
A hue and cry
With shapely girls
At play.

Footballer’s escapades
And film stars
Wearing shades
And who is
And isn’t gay.
The media can annoy,
Or brain cells
With sensations stale
Expenses fraud
Ignore the Lord
And read
The Daily Mail?

Life must be a mess
In the Express
With all its rage.
It causes stress.
Surely written
From duress
The angry front page!
‘Bonkers, perverts
Scroungers, cheats’
This verbal violence
us all in shops
Where children go!

From the papers
The language has
Done much harm
Annihilating words
Of charm.
A blight on everyone:
The paper called ‘The Sun’
Too many people want to read.
We have this need
For self righteous
To sweep away the blame
And find love
sacrificed for fame
And blight
With the language of
Another generation!



The sun still shines in many places.
We no longer reign supreme.
Will Britain with her many faces
Change to a more loving theme?

The rain still falls on green Britain.
Homes continue to be built.
Gone the power history’s written
Time has not assuaged our guilt.

Though we walk in paths congested
Breathing fumes of London’s air,
The good food we have digested
Confirms the privilege of care.

The work ahead may seem endless.
Most refugees are still not fed.
While they often seem so friendless
And too many now are dead.

Will world leaders work together
To improve things for the poor
And not leave them wondering whether
Life’s worth living any more!


If the best we can do
Is the least we can do
Then we’ll fear not
The local spite.
We will do everything
In our power we can do
To make everything alright.

When we face all the
That might come our way
We will try to resolve
What some can’t.
And we’ll say all the things
We’ve been meaning to say
We shall not betray you.
We shant.

If our motives are good
That is reason enough
To be out of a favoured domain.
We are among those
Who are finding it tough
But are sharing each
Other’s pain.

If the most we can do
Is all that we do
Then our heads can be held
Up high.
We will fight on
And we know that you too
Together with us, will try.


Let not the children of tomorrow
Inherit our sorrow
As we disregard our planet’s worth.
For what we leave behind
Surely will unwind
When they no longer celebrate
Each birth.

As stars shine in the deep,
Our imaginations leap
To a future no longer ours.
We shall not see them weep
When only pictures keep
Alive the memory of trees and flowers.

When all lights are artificial
And friendships superficial,
Lonliness the usual mode of living.
They may not know the regret
Of their forefathers and yet
Let’s hope they find a way
Of forgiving!


There were past life-styles
To forget
For fashions change with time.
Privilege was not regret,
Nor happiness a crime.

Some stances of today
Are of concern.
Memories are kept at bay
Until we can discern,

What to teach from the past?
Can we really know?
Wind the memory tapes back fast
Then play them real slow.

Images to haunt the mind;
This we will inherit.
On screens they’ve left behind.
Much of it has merit.

Much of it! Oh! Much of it!
So much of it about us.
Let us treasure every bit.
Or earth may die without us!


Aleppo fallen! Murder rife!
Bullets, bombs, bitter strife.
How many of us kneel and pray
For mercy and peace, to rule the day?

Riches, this planet’s great resource
Love, must be bequeathed, of course
But childens inheritance of peace
Can only happen if wars cease.

We are old, to rest inclined
Yet question what we leave behind.
Some say, “Who cares? We won’t be here.
There is only death to fear”

So much taken, So much broken
Perhaps this poem is a token?
Yet this too can burn.
When? Oh when, will people learn?


Dad had to march for his job.
We came to London today.
We joined the march at the start
And heard the Colliery band play.

Huge banners, slogans and such.
The rain crashed down on my head.
At times it seemed a bit much,
But I thought of our cause instead.

I held my banner up high.
Then brilliant lightening flared.
People cheered as we went by.
I was surprised so many cared.

Yes we all got soaking wet.
The crowd called out “Well done!”
I kept my features set,
For I’m a coal miner’s son!