View of the estuary

•June 24, 2014 • Leave a Comment

The splash of colour has burst through

It’s red and pinks against the full green

A tree so full of life it dances in place

Reaching high into the sheer blue sky

It has taken a deep long breath of the

Salty sea breeze that sweeps around here

Today the blue is flat and bright with sunshine

Two boats in once place as the ripples breaks reflections.




A threatening outlook

•April 26, 2014 • Leave a Comment

Those clouds are dancing
Winding their way around us
They do not seem to care if we are covered
Or laid bare to sun and wind alike
They reflect only the white of the marked lines
The grey of our chilled skin can be found
In the distant threatened storm
A call, or shout gets lost amongst the whirling winds
If we all jump as the gust comes through
We might fly and dive and swoop
Instead, we fight, faces turned, into the day ahead.

IRWMRH 2014 (c)

I do what i do… (A Sunday Afternoon Verse)

•October 6, 2013 • Leave a Comment

“I do what I do…”


I do what I do

No more no less

For love

That is the final

Reason for anything

Because I love you

The smell of autumn

Of any season at all

The silence of an afternoon

The echo of a favourite song

The burn of muscles -

After a extra hard run

The cheer of winning teams

The feel of souring joy -

At the moves of a dancer

The way the sun shines

The way my heart sings

The way you smile at me -

When you catch my eye

Colours all lined up

A smell of new -

Or old -

Books lined up waiting

Your laugh when I joke

The way the blanket falls

The job well done

The dinner served

The clink of glass

The lights turned down

The photos turned out just right

I do what I do

No more no less

For love

That is the final

Reason for anything

Because I love.



Water – an ode on National Poetry Day 2013

•October 2, 2013 • 1 Comment


I hear the sighs escape quietly
I have to listen hard to number them
The breathes settle across the sand
Each four I hear a deeper lungful
And the exhale almost reaches me
It’s ghost moves the shingles closer
The Colours are almost non existent
A greyscale montage of sky and shore
I let my own breaths mirror it
Deep in then out for longer
Letting the pace settle me with its regularity
The depression of the surroundings bring a happiness
Like a rainy day from the inside viewed
The cold air does not bother me from here
Again on the fourth a louder sigh from inside the beast
And I feel it, inside me this time
I have sat here too long it seems
The sea water has seeped into my being
I shall return again tomorrow
Watch the crashing waves and maybe even venture in
Let the water surround me
Let it sink back into my soul.


Poetry about a Novel…

•September 1, 2013 • Leave a Comment

My coffee cup has long since cooled

it’s contents just a shallow pool of brown

my feet pressed against the red leather armrest

a gentle numbness sits at my ankles

cross and uncross legs until i’m settled

I have let too much distract me to now

and yet my mind has little to fill it

the carpet vacuumed long ago and dishes done

it is easier to find the perfect soundtrack

research the ideal recipe for meatballs

contact friends from days already passed

and yet I am settled here and waiting

excited anticipation to tell this adventure

the words too many to count whirl around

the flashing cursor sitting ready for me

sitting ready for me

sitting ready for me

sitting ready for me

instead i click shuffle on the playlist

and hope the gentle emo drumbeat

will inspire a sentence soon.


(C) IRWMRH 2013

We stand as Nine

•June 30, 2013 • 2 Comments

The eyes of our mythology gaze across
Histories of titans rise to meet again
The red tail of monsters brought to life
Sweeping across the blazon cross of rivals
We are caught in the cross fire of waiting
anticipation and excitement bubbling
under the reds and greys of branded armour
we are brought together
Armed and ready.

Upon the 3rd call we hear the roar of Cymru
shouts melded together as one
hand raised in prayer to the cloud filled skies
muscles warmed and stretched
spring to action the thud of footfall on grass
The swoosh of ball through air
Hands to hands to ground
Hands to hands and score?

The scream of cheers and celebration
Played out upon the outer reaches
Well away from the white tented village
The red our colour worn brave
We fight our demons imagined here
Created wars and conflicts
Played out amongst the calls of play
A smile well hidden amongst the set faces
Five times we fought them all.

Arms wrapped around our warrior friends
Tired legs just barely standing
Smiles no longer forced as cameras flash
Celebrations spread long into the dark
Glasses clunked together raised high
Horizons already promised and day dreamed
Future hopes kept moving by liquid joy
We stand as 9 plus two, stronger.

(C) BWS2013

Rhythm Inside…

•May 4, 2013 • Leave a Comment

At the start of April, 30 days spread out like a horizon of golden wheat, barely moving in the gentle wind, it felt like a battle, a long and up hill battle.

Now I’m in May i’m a little overwhelmed that April is over, it was lost to work and weekends and sport, but amongst all of that, poetry flowed through my veins, everyday, I had to find the words, pluck them out of my mind and put them into some kind of order.

It was utterly exhausting on some days, finding those words when all i wanted to do was sleep, or curl into the splitting headache that was reverberating through my brain. But I wrote, and they were not elegant, or perfect, or even anything I would click ‘SAVE’ on if I was just working. But I set myself some rules, rather than pick words from poems already started, every evening I would open a new post on my blog, and write straight into it, no drafts, no re-writes, but what i wanted to say on that day, and it worked.

All of these 30 poems could be worth something, I may only edit 3 of them, and only 1 may become anything that I try and do anything with, but after just 1 month, i have 30 poems to play with. That is a massive step forward for me.

One of the comments from my College poetry professor when he saw my work from the term i was with him, was that i was prolific, that doesn’t mean that it was any good, but at least I was able to get the words out of my mind.

I’ve struggled with that for a while now, it has become too easy to have the conversation with myself in my mind, and hold the verse under lock and key, worried that it is just a waste of time and I wasn’t good enough to waste the paper with my words. 

Forcing myself to write has opened my heart up to so much more, it’s given me a freedom I didn’t really know I needed. Each night I would ready my wife a ‘bed time poem’, she would cuddle in and comment on the bits she liked, or didn’t like, and sometimes, she’s just smile and say ‘perfect’.

In my heart there lives a poet, and a writer, and everything in between, and this challenge has just opened my eyes to exactly what I can manage when i try….

… After all if one poem can be written as a I walk up a hill in the Devon countryside, I’m sure I can find the time to write in the coming months, right?!


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