On bad days Remember trees.   They will let you stop. Let you lean back against them, Or lose yourself up in their reaching branches. They will shelter and shade. They grow so slowly that you can’t resent Their development, but can be reminded That the days will pass, they will pass.   On better…

There’s a bird in our tree singing a fine tune with me, we chirp and tweet in our nests. It won’t be long before we finish this song, and hear what the sky would like next.

My brother’s feet are like balloons always rising to the sky, light and airy they must be never sticking to the ground. Walks on his hands you see one palm and then the other, slow and steady, or round in circles, palm patting all the way. Bend down if you need to talk bend down…

Walk me to a field with a rope to the sky, show me how to climb but don’t question why.   Rest me on a beach with shells rising from the sea, show me how they pirouette whilst balancing on a breeze.   Guard me in a storm with a cloud that never lands, show…

We landed in a world of glass And crawled around the jungle. A finger came down from the sky To make us bend and stumble.   We nibbled on the juicy leaves And sifted through the clover. A finger tapped upon the glass And made us topple over.   We sucked on moisture from the…

In the kitchen                      you will find                                         when you open the creaky door mould on the bread cobwebs on the toaster an exploded spud in the…

The teacher has mice in his cupboard: They’ve chewed on maps of Waterloo, They’ve gnawed a hole in Napoleon’s hat And left droppings on page 52.   The teacher has rats in his floorboards: There’s the smell of their night time vapours They’ve picked great holes in the skirting board And torn up his question…

There are stars like diamonds, An Olmec moon, A jet black sky And the devil’s tune,   A distant howl From the choking dark, Frost on the turf And the vixen’s bark.   Shadows are strangers, Trees are shrouds, The wind whips cruel Through the frightened clouds.   There is something evil In the air…

English would be a loud parrot Screeching words at an empty page.   Maths would be a wise owl Concentrating at every stage.   French would be an elegant swift Darting and weaving and never still.   Science would be something stuffed, Unidentified, with a broken bill.   Scripture would be a gentle dove Sent…

Why do dad’s feet smell like cheese? Perhaps he’s got some nasty disease, His elbows smell lovely, and so do his knees, It’s only his feet that smell like cheese!   Why are Dad’s ears so full of hair? What on earth is it doing in there, It’s not as if he’s got any to…