A fluid Anthology of Poetry, Prose & Painting
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We have neighbours who have cats. There is one particular sleek female that sits on the roof of a nearby house and watches the Moon and the pigeons in the nearby Beech trees. There is one particular wiry male that has set his hat at that cat, but seems to be quite inept at climbing and jumping, and has so far failed to reach her after many attempts. She will not come down to him.
I wrote this poem the night after meeting the wife of a colleague who was an extremenly interesting person, and though I could not stay longer talking to both of them, wished I could.
I wrote this poem the night of the recent elections in Hungary, when it became clear that Fidesz would be well-beaten by Tisza and Peter Magyar would be a new hope for a more liberal Hungary. Hope is not the ned in itself, but needs to be worked at to make it real. That is what the poem is about.
Here is a poem about a cat from 2018 that I have not posted before. It was written when my daughter was going to school in the countryside, and there was a wall with climbing plants along it where the cat used to lurk, black in black, in the deadly night shade.
It has been a terrible Winter with low clouds that make one bow one's head and incessant rain. However, the last few days have been brighter, the world is waking up, mornings are lighter and the morning walk to the railway station of my small country town has become much pleasanter. This poem describes how it seemed to me this morning.
I was listening to music by John Dowland while in the company of someone knitting, unknotting and cursing the loss of needles. It struck me that the dour ideas of Dowland would go well with the stresses of knitting angst, so I wrote this galliard!
his is perhaps my first proper poem of 2026. I wanted to explore the idea of 'the grass is greener' and general dissatisfaction with life - an idea put in my mind by one of my students, by February being what it is, and by anno domini.
I wrote this poem this morning as a sudden inspiration. It came in a matter of 90 seconds of writing, or should I say tapping, as it was written on a mobile 'phone, followed by a few editorial changes a few hours later on a lap-top.
This is the last Pearl Earring post. It has taken so long because of illness, for which my apologies. There are 12 paintings altogether over the last 4 related posts. Now I need another muse.
I wrote this poem as both a political satire and a parody of a poem by Byron, at least 2 years ago now. It is about Liz Truss and her extremely short time as PM in which she car-crashed the economy.
