I am moved by Lady Percy 's expression of love. CLICK HERE - see if you agree.
Otherwise my novels, short stories, verse, family, music, memories, vulgar interests, detestations,
responses, apologies. I hold posts to 300 words* having found less is better than more.
I re-comment on comments and re-re-re-comment on re-re-comments.
* One exception: short stories.

Wednesday, 27 May 2015


Sonnet: On re-visiting 10 Gordon Terrace

So that’s the wretched house that once contained
A bedded child, awaiting, expectant,
To capture murmurs of a love disdained,
My father’s sin, my mother's discontent.

I feared their talk might stumble into deeds,
A curse, perhaps a rupture, leaving me,
A child still influenced by infant needs,
Given to tears and sensed redundancy.

Talk became deeds and then mere silent space,
A couple cut in halves, all comfort flown,
For me a taint of undeserved disgrace,
The withered hopes of youth ungrown.

Older, among the bones of memory,
I ironise adult complacency


  1. Wonderful poem, beautifully crafted out of heart-wrenching, gut-churning experience.

    Just wondering if the last line could be better worded?

  2. Natalie: Thanks for the encomium. The last line justifies the title.

  3. Natalie: As you can see I was dissatisfied and re-wrote it. Gave it a new title too. If you think it's duff I'll cut your comment

  4. Oh! I liked the 'scrappit' house so much and the immediacy of all the first version. This is more refined, more formal, more 'proper poetry'. I suppose it's an improvement, but the first one spoke more directly. Just my subjective opinion and I'm not qualified to judge poetry. Don't cut me!

  5. This seems straight out of "Mr. Turner". An easy connect since I watched it last night. Great movie - I was eager to recommend it - searched TD and found you'd reviewed it.

  6. All: I'm presently in southern France, using my steam-powered netbook (Windows XP for goodness sake!), slow as Gerald Ford's decisions and hence a drag on my expressiveness.

    Natalie: I understand what you say but the faults were glaring and got in the way of what I wanted to say. Under such conditions I knew they'd only get worse and quite soon I wouldn't be able to bear reading it. Your reactions - both of them - are legitimate but imagine if you'd done a painting where the perspective was wrong and you'd missed it first time round. Imagine how it would niggle.

    MikeM: I liked Mr T. Thought it contained the most authentic bonking scene ever committed to a movie. More authenticity: the chat between the Royal Academy's great and good among themselves. Real people.