How nice would life be if you could make a decent living doing what you enjoy best.

Written in response to Robert Hayden’s: Those Winter Sundays.

This is for my mum, and the strenght it takes to carry on when your partner has gone.

Me and my friend wrote this one night.

A poem written on the north coast of Cornwall.

These are happy days.

A simple story written within five hundred words.

The one and only human problem.

Blues Song.

Controversies are denied. And resurfaced time and yet time again.