Poetry or song? It’s just words

The other day I gave you the lyrics of a Bob Dylan song from 57 years ago and suggested that lyrics are basically poetry without words. Then again some of the finest lyricists in the world are really poets first who then have their poetry put to music. This does not mean all poems couldContinue reading “Poetry or song? It’s just words”

Desolation Row

by Bob Dylan b. 1941 They’re selling postcards of the hanging, they’re painting passports brown The beauty parlor is filled with sailors, the circus is in town Here comes the blind commissioner, they’ve got him in a trance One hand is tied to the tightrope walker, the other is in his pants And the riotContinue reading “Desolation Row”

The prodigal’s return after playing ‘poo sticks’ with a new prickly pal

Gone (for a while) but hopefully not forgotten. Unlike the Prodigal Son I have not frittered away my time or money, I have just been taking a break from cerebral activity and spending more time on manual work in the garden. I’ve also been making friends with a rather prickly chap who began to makeContinue reading “The prodigal’s return after playing ‘poo sticks’ with a new prickly pal”

A Poison Tree

by William Blake 1757-1827 I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I watered it in fears, Night and morning with my tears; And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft, deceitful wiles.Continue reading “A Poison Tree”

Harold goes for the double but falls foul of a right royal bastard

I rather cruelly left Harold Godwinson, aka King Harold of England, on the top of a hill near Hastings on a cold, dark October night as he prepared to clinch the crown with a double victory. He had already seen off an attack by King Harald of Norway, aided by Harold’s own brother Tostig Godwinson,Continue reading “Harold goes for the double but falls foul of a right royal bastard”

The Mother

by Pádraig Pearse b 10 November 1879 executed 3 May 1916 I do not grudge them: Lord, I do not grudge My two strong sons that I have seen go out To break their strength and die, they and a few, In bloody protest for a glorious thing, They shall be spoken of among theirContinue reading “The Mother”

All good friends and jolly good company as we get set to tour

The fortnight at Harry’s home in Child Okeford was not only for preparing for the tour, making sure everything was in perfect condition and packed properly in the Sooty van (some fragile items were to travel in the back of Harry’s Range Rover), it was also to give us time to get to know oneContinue reading “All good friends and jolly good company as we get set to tour”

A Song: “Men of England”

by Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792-1822 Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay ye low? Wherefore weave with toil and care The rich robes your tyrants wear? Wherefore feed and clothe and save From the cradle to the grave Those ungrateful drones who would Drain your sweat – nay, drink your blood? Wherefore,Continue reading “A Song: “Men of England””


by Mal Melville Australian poet: on refugees and war Today another town in flames another army bears the blame. Before the bullets the people flee, nowhere to hide for you and me. My heavy heart is filled with sorrow. Where will you be tomorrow? Desperate and lonely refugees the unknown our new reality. Children cryContinue reading “Tomorrow”