Here - published as promised and donation to Cancer Research UK made.
Dancing with a drip-stand, it ‘aint easy,
its tubes and wires threaten to impede
attempts at forward motion; Bloody-minded
it has five wheels so thinks that it should lead.
It helps a lot if you pick the right tune
for your vaguely ballroom progress to the loo,
something like a graceful waltz or foxtrot
(a Charleston, jive or quickstep just won’t do).
There’s just one more thing that you should remember,
to avoid an unexpected tango dip,
don’t forget to take the damn thing’s plug out
before you set off upon your trip!
Bramingham Woods – May
The tide of Spring has broken in the woods
and now the blackthorn drips with foaming spray.
Wide pools of bluebells lap the beeches’ roots;
Legacy of the wave that’s ebbed away.
The whisper of the new leaves in the breeze
reminds me of the quiet surf at play
and verdant scents, that tantalise and tease,
entreat like tiny ripples on the shore;
The wistful ache within my heart is eased
by diving in to wander and explore,
the limpid blue-green depths that lie within
whose dancing leaves and sunlight can restore,
just as saltwater gently soothes the skin,
my weary soul that’s Winter-worn so thin.
Whilst in my daily boring strife
from unknown darkness you arrive
Obscure, Heinous and Brute
You try to usurp my own life's fruit.
Fadel Abou El Ola