Friday, 3 February 2017


There is a new phenomenon in our house – the Daily Trump.

It starts with receiving the latest mad political news, at home or abroad, and pretty much ends that way too… a Daily Trump and a coffee to wash it down cos it always gets stuck in my throat.

My nearest and dearest think that I am a protest poet, and it’s true that I write protest poetry – breast ironing, enforced wearing of the veil, injustices old and new – but I find that’s the best way to counter those things that I personally cannot change.

Luckily, I tend to see beauty in the most peculiar places – a mermaid swimming into a mackerel sky, or other escapist fantasies but really…. this is surely a time of not learning from history and forgetting our humanity.

So, for all the Trumped-Up stuff
Trumpeted about by the huf-
fing-and-puffing types, my
Trump Card
a brick house built
of unshakable stuff
beliefs in a better World.
And while
the trumpeters
trumpet their trash, I’ll scratch
my disquiet and my disgust
white paper with black ink
black paper with white ink
and shut out their Trumpeted stink

till I can think above their din...
and the world’s enlightened again.