Monday, 23 December 2019

A Christmas Sigh

Christmas is a happy time
For some but not for all
Sadness is not far away
Amongst the merry play
Loved ones cherished, time to hug
Enjoy the moment keep it dear
Be happy as you shed a tear
For those with a burden hard to share
For those, we miss this time of year

My Christmas poem is prompted by the sadness I feel for so many friends who are experiencing personal problems at this difficult time of year and my almost constant empathetic tearfulness...

Alistair Parker
Christmas 2019

Thursday, 3 October 2019

Winter Draws On

Winter draws on said me grandma
Chilly winds from the east
Nip in the air as the leaves turn brown
And tumble from the trees
Beech masts as thick as a mat
Foretell of hard times to come
Conkers brown and shiny scattered round
Holly berries bending branches 
Tell a tale of things to come
Grandmas coat with naphtha smell
Mothballs snowballs winter hell
All the signs that do foretell
That winter weathers on its way
Grandmas’ draws are here to stay

I was prompted to write this as it’s #NationalPoetryDay. By the obvious signs of a hard winter ahead and reports yesterday of scraping of the first frost from car windscreens.

3rd October 2019

Friday, 6 September 2019


Ivy shoots from the darkest ground
Seeking light, the tips emerge
To stretch out wavering upwards
Touching searching for a hold
To aid its climb as up it goes
It branches out to cover ground
Walls and stone and wooden things
Clinging as it seeks to anchor fronds
Little fingers clinging tight
As it searches for the light
Waxen leaves the darkest green 
Dither in the slightest breeze
Cloaking all as time does by
Enveloping a tree or wall, a hall
A tangly home for birds and things that crawl
Flowers insignificant but vital food
For bees and insects as days pass
From summer into autumn time
The ivy clings and grows and cloaks
More than ever meets the eye
The ivy reaches to the sky


Inspired by watching the Ivy in my garden being battered and torn by the rain and twisting wind.

Saturday, 24 August 2019

Five Hundred Trains a Day

500 trains a day or so it seemed
From smoky places cased in grime
Disgorging suits and frocks and kids
Excited at the sight of sand
Wakes weeks and bank holidays
A time for fun, a break from toil

With cases bulging, bags and spades
They crammed the prom and trod the piers
The tower looked down on all the glee
With fish and chips and pots of tea
Deck chair stripes flap in the sun
Built sandcastles, oh such fun

Out by 9 and back by 5 the B&B oh what a dive
Pleasure beach and then a tram
Lunch was only bread and jam
Wasps and flies and crunchy sand
Dads lost the plot and so has mam
Sun went in and now the rain
Time to go and catch the train

24 August 2019

Inspired by the headlines today that major railways lines will be closed over the Bank Holiday weekend causing untold disruption and heartache. Can you imagine the effect that would have had on Blackpool in its heyday, with over 500 trains a day visiting the resort in the 30's?

Friday, 21 June 2019

The Longest Day

The Longest Day
How can that be
They are all the same I’m sure
A day’s a day’s a day
Twenty four hours today
Just like yesterday
And tomorrow, just a day

The longest day
How can that be
More daylight or more night
It’s just a day like any day
As long as all the days
The longest day is just a day
Like all the other six

Inspired by and written on the longest day

21st June 2019

Tuesday, 21 May 2019

The Snowman's Gone

There he stood all white and mighty
Made from snow that fell and fell
Round and portly overfed
With, a rather too small head
Covered with a battered hat
A Panama that’s rather worn
A hat because the sun is warm
Hotter than it used to be
Hot enough to cook a nose
A parsnip or a carrot
Coal for eyes he smokes a pipe
Contributing to his own demise
His eyes are leaking teardrops fall
Drops the drops that will not stop
It’s getting warm, the end is nigh
First the drips and then the flood
Two black blobs, a burnt out pipe
A carrot overcooked
A puddle where there once stood might
The Snowman's all but gone
No more Snowmen, no more World
Save the Snowman save the world
Time to act, the time has come
To save the Snowman from the sun

Inspired by the appointment of the 2019 Poet Laureate Simon Armitage and his poem “Last Snowman”


Thursday, 14 February 2019

A Symbol of Love

Crimson curved and folded fronds 
Of winded wafts and scented smells
The rose is charm and love
And grace to celebrate
The sands of time that pass away
Petals brown and wither there
To drop from heaven to the ground
The scent does linger like our love
The crimson curving heart like thing
Will last just long enough as life
The rose a symbol of our love

Inspired by a reading of William Blake’s The Sick Rose on BBC Radio 4 In Our Time, see below. It was the words Crimson Joy that triggered the inspiration.


Used as a Valentine card verse 2019


The Sick Rose 

O Rose thou art sick. 
The invisible worm, 
That flies in the night 
In the howling storm: 

Has found out thy bed 
Of crimson joy: 
And his dark secret love 
Does thy life destroy.

BY William Blake