Last bad SAD poem before Spring, I hope


I am done with this day

Put it back on the shelf

Or in my bag, that way


I can read it on the

Bus, if I change my mind

For one that wants to be


Reading something new.

Now is old, blank and clean,

That extra page preserved


For silent doodling, no-

One watching or listening

Now that ‘The End’ has passed.

In his tale of two cities Dickens said ‘The day came coldly, like a dead face out of the sky’

What is there to fill this grey day?

Is there someone for whom

It is not grey, is there someone

Who switches on the lights with

Every blink? Is there a place

In this grey city where life flows

Strong and people are enjoying

Their work and loving themselves

And seeing light in every eye even

Though the sun’s switched off?

Brave New Salad

Love apples bitten

Raw, red stuck

On with Sun

And sticker, made

In New Zealand.


Cucumber sitting there

Rotting slowly down

Each line, ruts

Of green go

Grey, wasting in

The wan fridge tray.


Lettuce, now, dull,

As before, left

Behind at the counter,

Somehow needless

In the winter,

Out of place, imposter,



[6th October]