The days flash past.
Is it Wednesday again?
It’s getting faster
this wheel I’m on.
I can’t see the spokes anymore,
they’re just a blur.
My legs pump the pedals,
I lean forward in racing position,
faster and faster.

Stop! Stop!

I can’t, here’s Friday again.
My head aches with watching
the speed of days spinning past.
Work, rest, play,
Work rest play.

Is there an end in sight?
A goal to be achieved?
A destination to reach?

Look ... it’s Monday again...
another day on the treadmill.

This is a new poem ... still working on it ...

Star Gazer

A clear starlit night in the Congo,
She walked along the perimeter fence,
picking up sticks.
Wood was needed
for the cooking pot.

She heard their voices
too late to run.
She gazed at the stars
as they held her down
and her mind flew free.

They walked off laughing and joking,
she lay in the mud looking at the dog star
and the rising moon
wondering where she was.

Her mother said
‘Why were you so long
and where’s the wood for the fire?’

She looked at her empty hands
and up at the sky, as her mother’s slap
brought stars to her eyes.

Global Summit to End Sexual Violence in Conflict - Star-Thrower

To be chaired by William Hague and Angelina Jolie

This is (and I quote) 'the largest ever international Summit on the issue. Ministers from countries (currently 140) who have endorsed the Declaration as well as reps from civil society, grassroots organisations, the judiciary, militaries and international organisations will come together to agree practical actions to help put an end to the use of sexual violence in conflict. The Foreign Secretary (William Hague) wants the Summit to ... permanently change global attitudes on this issue'.

Look at the website

The performer space is
Tuesday 1:45-2:45
Wed 5:45-6:45

I will have approximately 4-5 mins

Here's one of the poems I'll be performing:

This poem is based on a story (of the same name)  by Loren Eiseley (1907-1977) who wrote it as an essay originally. It was published posthumously in an anthology of Eisely’s works (1978) with an intro by WH Auden.


The storm battered the shore that night.
Thousands of starfish were left stranded
along the beach as the tide retreated,
they were drying and dying in the sun.

A young girl was picking them up
one-by one and throwing them back
as far into the sea as she could.

A writer was walking her dog
and stopped to watch the girl.
‘What’s the point?’ she told her,
‘You can’t make a difference,
there’s just too many’.

‘I made a difference to that one’,
said the girl as she threw.