The Prisoner


She looks through the bars,

her intelligence

dulled by repetition

of the daily chores

and cheerlessness.

Tears fall

as tortured


of her child

growing without

her loving touch.

a glimpse now and again

never enough

as someone


charts her child’s

precious years.


Politicians mutter,

What can her family do

against prejudice


and perfidy

like this,

taking a woman from her


from her freedom

and framing her,


destroying the fragile

bond, that holds

body and soul



Lord, that she may be free


The Vine

The Vine


A beautiful new baby

delighting the family,

gifts at his baptism,

no silver spoon

but there were toys.


Growing up heralds

the hopelessness

and cruel certainty for

the likes of him.


Poverty coils around his feet

snaking round his ankles,

tying them fast,

keeping him where

He is.


Guided by governments,

Ordered by opulence

They wind about his weakened flesh.


A family fastened together

by invisible vines

of self doubt

and depression.

Lies peddled by cruel folk

deliberately attacking

his home and


Children, who wait daily

To eat from the foodbank;

while other kids

carry bank cards

and dine when they want.


Who divided us?

Who decided? Us?

Who derided thus

and sowed in so many lives

those covert creepers?