Poem: Christmas Food

Food. So bad, yet so good. So many colours, so many textures. So many food poisonings taken for the pleasure.   You gave me gout last Christmas Eve, But I don’t hold it against you, you see, For I know our relationship is solid. Once the doctor unclogs my arteries.   This Christmas things will…

Poem: 5th November 1605

The dank presence of gunpowder fills their lungs. Settling smoke distorts their view. 5th November 1605 – a night like any other. If only this were really  true.   Traders to country, traitors to crown. The Gunpowder Plot, Dismembered, put down.   Destructive paths each had chosen, Treasonous, treacherous. Yet failed to make any  explosion….