About Me

NEW POEMS, "About You", "Why Does it Have to be Like This", "Without You", "Pot of Gold", Poetry Page 6 Apart from writing poetry and short stories, my other interests include, football, cricket, formula 1, golf, and rugby. Although I live in the town, I love the countryside and the sea. As I have already pionted out Tigers are my favourite animals, although I have a great affinity to all wild life. My other great interest is Geneology, and my family roots come not only from England where I was born but also Alderney, Scotland and France. My maternal Grandmother was scottish and a Wallace. The family originated from the same village as Sir William Wallace.

Copyright:- All the poems on this site are copywrited to me, I hope you enjoy reading them. If you should want to use any of them or re-print them in any form you must ask my permission first.


I have often been asked if I have a favourite poem from those I have written. The short answer is no, not really. However if I had to choose just one then the following poem would have to be at the top of the list.

Looking Back

Looking back is a pastime,
I find so difficult to shake,
Thinking of all the opportunities,
That I failed to take.

It wasn't as if we hadn't spoken,
And new ground I needed to break,
There was no one else for me,
No other to forsake.

But still I plodded on,
Never sure of what I should do,
If only I had been more assertive,
And took more notice of you.

You gave me several chances,
To tell you how I felt,
But each and every time,
My courage appeared to melt.

I still remember the time,
That you walked home my way,
I kept looking round,
But couldn't find the words to say.

The many times when at dinner,
I'd find a reason to talk to you,
Maybe I'd say you were too noisy,
While you were in the queue.

Then when I was leaving,
There was something I wanted to say,
I saw you on the stairs,
But I froze and turned away.

Even after I'd left,
There were times that I spurned,
I drove back that first September,
For a glimpse of you I yearned.

I followed the bus to the village,
And watched you alight,
I tracked you along the Terrace,
And then drove off in fright.

I saw you on the bridge one day,
Along with some of your friends,
But once again without reason,
I failed to make amends.

By far the worst mistake I made,
And the one I constantly rue,
I'm haunted by the time,
That I drove right past you.

The look that you gave me,
I can still see it now.
Oh how I wished I stopped that day,
Oh how, oh how, oh how.

Looking back is all I ever do,
And my feeling I know will last,
Forever looking for another glimpse,
And wishing I could change the past,

Alas some things cannot be changed,
And how I wish that wasn't true,
If I could have my time over,
I'd want to spend every minute with you.

Photography .
All the photographs used ion this site were taken by me. Click on a photo.

Misty Today


The mist in my head,
Just wont go away,
It's clouding my thoughts,
In every which way.
It's there in the morning,
And still there at night,
This mist in my head,
Is clouding my sight.
I once saw things clearly,
And everything looked bright,
Then you came in to my life,
And dimmed the light.
You changed the way I felt,
And made me worship you,
You changed everything about me,
And put my life in a stew.
But then they came and took you,
They had to put you away,
Free once again to live my own life,
Things will improve but it's misty today.

The following poem I wrote for my youngest daughter and my son-in-law on the birth of my granddaughter Emily Jane And so this bundle of joy it seems Has entered our lives to fulfil our dreams, To make us smile and give us fun From this day forward for years to come, Whose wrinkled skin so soft and pink Could make us stop and think, Of all the stars that shine at night There isn't one that could shine as bright. Upon this little baby our love to bestow And in years a beautiful woman will grow, But for now we'll savour the way she is Tender and cuddly, but remember this, She may cry a lot, but she'll never be a bane, Our beautiful adorable EMILY JANE.