Return to Tenby

Hello Poetry Lovers

Yes, you heard right, I said return to Tenby. That magical place I discovered in May this year. I was honoured to be invited back by the magical Celine for the launch of Celine’s Salon Anthology volume 2.

So there I went on the train back to Pembrokeshire. This time the train wasn’t crowded with holidaymakers and Welsh speakers and I certainly missed the latter.

We found a lovely apartment in the centre of town. Bakery and M&Co in walking distance! What a coup!

I got off the train, put my case in the flat and legged it to the Tenby Museum for the launch. My heart warmed to see that lovely place once again.

Once there, I had the pleasure of meeting the marvellous Rachel D’arcy, a very talented singer and musician, plus I reunited with the enigmatic Kevin O’Dowd and the lovely LaLa Banana in her silvery jacket

Not to mention Suzie Wildsmith and the stunning Siobhan Lancaster, before meeting Tommy Mack and the talented musician Garin Lang from Breathe. Watch out for him, and speaking of talent, it was lovely seeing Ros Garret again and her stunning trio making such beautiful sounds. This all added to the vibrancy of the poetry read, and Celine’s Salon volume 2 anthology selling really well.

I’m not sure who this poet was, but she pushed in and read complete filth. Amazed the place wasn’t raided! Seriously, it was an enriching experience, all made possible by the ever resourceful Celine.

Thank you so much, Celine. I look forward to returning to this magical place with you next year.

Meanwhile Celine has her salon and Derry to look forward to in 2023 before we embrace our Welsh friends again.

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s, and reliving that triumphant experience with me. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon…

Happy Thanksgiving

Hello Poetry Lovers

Happy Thanksgiving to you all. I know this is not really our celebration but I would like to acknowledge and illustrate the occasion. I’ve always been a bit infatuated with this celebration and love seeing images of the food Americans serve up. So much food groaning on a table, served with love

So, I’ve written a couple of triolets about this particular holiday. Hope they’re not too slapdash…

Please come to our Thanksgiving meal

and sit at the table with us.

Food is the warm reflection we feel.

Please come to our Thanksgiving meal.

The food we serve is warm and real

but we don’t want a lot of fuss.

Please come to our Thanksgiving meal

and sit at the table with us.

A huge turkey on the table

that groans with rich food.

Pass me that oyster pie, Mabel.

A huge turkey on the table.

We’ll just eat what we’re able

otherwise it will seem rude.

A huge turkey on the table

that groans with rich food.

H Moulson 2022

I hope you liked those pieces, PL’s. I had to look up Oyster pie and cornbreads and hope that I’ve justified them. And as you can see, Dobby has her own Thanksgiving meal there.

Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. Happy Thanksgiving and we’ll be back with more poetry antics real soon….

Welcome back to Nostalgia Corner

Hello Poetry Lovers

Let me lead you once again to nostalgia corner. Talented poet Trisha Broomfield has written a follow-up to my recent piece on Talcum powder.

This particular, now overlooked, beauty item is playing on my mind, I think it’s because Christmas is approaching. Which as we know, is the ultimate nostalgic corner.

Anyway read this terrific and so wistful piece, and see how many brands you recognise – and probably still yearn for….

Talcum Powder

We filled our shoes,

walked in clouds of blissful ignorance,

Bronnley Freesia billowed out.

We puffed plastic bottles, more clouds,

liberally into our bras and knicks.

Cuticura, sprinkled like icing sugar,

on bathroom floors,

retained our flat-foot after bath prints.

Ashes of Roses for the bold,

Lenthéric Tweed for the old.

Then there was Kiku in its golden globe

with tasselled top.

The softest powder puff

luxurious in size, made a girl feel special, 

like its pal, Xanadu,

a purple bomb contained its pong.

Talc, an essential present when stuck, 

second only to square bath cubes,

scented with whatever Morney had in mind.

How I miss the ritual bliss.


26/10/2022Trisha Broomfield

Wasn’t that such a beautiful piece?! Where have these glamorous staples gone?! Thank you so much, Trisha, please keep them coming…

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon……

Poetry Basket Review

Hello Poetry Lovers

Welcome back to the Poetry Basket, I have missed it, I have to say. Inside this hallowed basket is a wonderful new collection by talented and prolific poet Carla Scarano D’Antonio titled Workwear. I’ve given it a well-deserved hot review, do take a look….


By Carla Scarano D’Antonio

Published by The High Window 

 This exciting new collection entices us with a stunning painting of clothes on the front cover by Irene D’Antonio 

Divided into four sections, we have the feeling of going through a drawer full of deceptively soft items.  

We are welcomed by In the beginning,  an italic textured piece full of human study, a good prelude to  greeting Work clothes, an interesting heading in itself.  

Something so every day and yet it’s not, and presented to us in an array of inspiring structures. Judith is a detailed account of a powerful woman, and Rembrandt at Kenwood House is so intricately detailed and we feel the artist standing next to us. How would I dress for my death?  is so personal to the point of pain. To My first boyfriend unravels the lengths of how a teenager would change herself for love. The necklace tells us between the lines that this was a family treasure.  

A new me is a favourite, backlashing against how mature women should dress and how the poet’s identity triumphs.  Lovely descriptive words.  

Meeting my grandmothers, the second section pulls us in straight away.  Who do you think you are ? (After C D Wright) draws us in so tightly, with in-depth  insight to the poet’s life and unraveling the section that awaits us.  The marvellous Meeting my grandmothers describes the hard life these women had, and the steely grip of determination they still carry.  Despite everything, they still had happy marriages.

This moves us on nicely to the very stirring My mother.  Space to play is nostalgic and has astounding vividness. I particularly loved the words about the grown-up’s double bed, a stirring memory for most of us.  The bittersweet picture of a patriarch is painted in My father, back home and guides us into the next piece of his passing in The Angel of Death. 

My way of cooking pasta tells us so very much about the poet and the emotions entwined in  this staple family dish. Another great favourite is I was pregnant, I was full which is so wonderfully frank with its full account of gynaecology. Nothing is spared in this excellent piece between the professor and the pregnant patient. 

Good Friday is touching as two people talk of their lives, and Moving out confronts another milestone of the next generation moving on.  Touching. On this emotional level, Valentina, the longest piece in the collection, is a moving account of giving an autistic child a loving home.  Although there are issues, we witness the joy of seeing a young woman grow up. Told in impressive and different styles. 

The next section Stars and flags focuses on a country very close to the poet’s heart. Don’t be fooled into thinking this will be a gentler selection, it stays consistently on a powerful level.  Impressions of Calgary does just that, giving us a fully painted one.  Umbrella keeps up the poet’s stunning descriptions.  We come to the tense piece Walking home, and the real danger we could all be in and Consider the ear carries such stunning biological detail while being so creative. I would say this is the most varied section of the book. Winter’s ending is simply profound and moving. 

Masking faces, the final section, as you would guess by the contemporary title is less nostalgic and focuses the new issues we have today.   However, Spanish flu takes us through poignancy and loss with an account of a mother trying to find news of her sons on the Naples docks. I love the feel of her tasting death. So brutal. 

A very relevant subject in Cycling solo, and the poet takes us with her on her journey. and Isolation, sums up what we have all been through, and how it has changed us. 

You can begin your journey of life anew is facing a new start when the hand of lockdown ceased and we were still blinking in the harsh light.  The lesser loss has a vibrant consistency and compulsive rhyme. 

Apocalypse is a powerful epilogue and the right way for us to leave this amazing collection.  

Do not let this powerful book get away. Available at and

Priced at £10 – worth buying.

Thank you for looking and reading, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon…

Baggage ….

Hello Poetry Lovers

My return to Tenby for the pamphlet launch is looming, and I was taken with poet Trisha Broomfield’s terrific piece on packing. Not only is this beautifully written, it’s also so relevant to me and my current packing.

Sad, wistful, nostalgic and very amusing contents are listed here. Not to mention how high maintenance we get as the years shed away. Do have a look and see how it strikes a chord;

Rucksacks and Other Packs

I was always happy to pack my rucksack;

socks, t-shirts, teabags, toothbrush,

Stergene and Silverkrin, in sachets,

clothes old, rolled, rollers, spare boots and vest,

rice, Fig Rolls, toilet rolls, 

Rimmel face powder, Orchid, I think, 

a black eye pencil.

Now my suitcase groans,

despite the lack of aforementioned items,

there is more ladies intimate apparel,

conditioner, moisturiser, eyebrow pencil, eyelash curlers,

(really) foot cream, hand cream, brushes, paperbacks,

I’m not a Kindle lover, notebooks and pens,

(I like to write real).

now I pack a host of ‘in case’s in my case,

which weighs more than my trusty rucksack ever did,

just because it can. 

02/11/2022Trisha Broomfield

Wasn’t that a marvellous piece of writing?! And so true! Thank you so much, Trisha, keep them coming. That will be all my contents in a poor groaning suitcase this week..

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry action (from Wales) real soon…..

Joy in Kentish Town

Hello Poetry Lovers

I simply have to share my new discovery of the Torriano Meeting House in Kentish Town. The home of so much innovative poetry, and many wonderful poets. A place I only heard about but never thought I’d enter…

A night organised by superhero poet Julian Bishop (he neglected to bring his cape and mask!), so us SKEGS online group could get together, and I fell in love with this bijou venue on first sight

I finally embraced four of our lovely online members face to face:

The beautiful, amazing Charlotte Baldwin

The powerful and enigmatic Sarah Perillo

The gifted and very moving Vanessa Lampert

And the man himself, the talented Julian Bishop

Not quite sure who this pushy poet was, or who invited her.

We were joined by two wonderful open micers – the fabulous Dan Kennedy (above right) and a lovely poet called Tom (I didn’t get your last name, Tom, forgive me). And I knew them both!

Superb poems were read, which included rabbits, moths, ice cream from Clifton Village, and Ramsgate. Plus Julian’s magnificent eco-poems, especially Serendipity which has now been shortlisted for the Morrab Library Competition. Well done!

And even better is that I will be returning on 4th December to read with the wonderful and enigmatic Wendy Young. What a birthday treat that will be!

Thank you so much, my lovely SKEGS friends for this super evening. Thanks also to Penny for taking this photo and running such a wonderful place.

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s and sharing my Sunday night adventure. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon…….


Hello Poetry Lovers

How could I let Halloween go by without mentioning it?! Which I nearly did, and I’m very grateful to superb poet Trisha Broomfield who wrote this wonderful piece.

It’s marvellous and clever and I had such fun illustrating this wonderful poem. Especially as there were cats involved, needless to say….

Do read on

Broomstick F Type

I didn’t buy it for the label

and the ride is rather hard

I feel each bump and boulder,

the back end’s rather charred.

The suspension’s a bit iffy

the turning circle’s poor

but it shoots at speed in seconds

and you should hear it roar.

You do not like the colour

and for some magenta shouts,

it’s not black and sleek like others,

but it’s me, there is no doubt.

There is no room for passengers

except, of course, the cat,

he has his own gold seatbelt

and a black and pointy hat.

If you hear a whoosh and soft meow 

it’s only me and Perry,

we do our rounds of witches’ pubs

and get ourselves quite merry.

So on Halloween, close curtains

but keep on your outside lights,

I find navigation tricky

on these dark and spooky nights.

Trisha Broomfield 2022

Wasn’t that just wonderful and atmospheric?! Thank you so much, Trisha. Keep them coming!

Well, Happy Halloween, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon……

Nostalgia Corner..

Hello Poetry Lovers

Once again I have become nostalgic and have turned my attention this time to Talcum Powder.

Not that boring Johnson’s one for babies in Superdrug, but the Christmas present staple we used to receive by relatives and family friends. Scorned publicly but privately treasured, especially in their beautifully decorated tins.

Anyway I’ve written down my thoughts, do read on;

Talcum Powder

Where have you been, talcum powder?

I miss your lingering tang on other people’s bodies 

Not to mention your caress under my armpits 

And other enticing places. 

Your very white softness flouring up my pasty skin,

the fine powder reaching the back of my throat 

How come I can only find you in obscure chemists? 

When you were once a Christmas present staple?

A tight smile as the wrapping was stripped away

On a par with socks for Dad, and Eat Me dates 

Unwelcome but compulsory at Yuletide 

It was your tin I loved the best – especially a 

Lavender one. 

Reassuring on the shelf, next to Dad’s razor 

And Old Spice that was never used.  

I hope you identified with that one, PL’s. Old Spice was in abundance in our house but I don’t recall it ever being actually used. Talc found it’s use, and the white speckled bathroom floor was a common sight.

Thank you for tuning in, PL’s. Now you can’t tell me you’re not wistful for something like this – certainly bath cubes or many other obscure items. I want those answers on a postcard…..

Alphabet Poem

Hello Poetry Lovers

Today I would like to share an abecedarian poem with you. Inspired by the wonderful poet Sue Burge’s Mind Gym, this alphabet form has very rich pickings for any subject. Mine for instance, is about knickers! Now 26 lines may seem a tall order, but once you get into it….well, see for yourself ;

Knickers …..

A huge wet mess left there on the 

Bathroom floor, tiles scattered with

Chamomile talc, red bath gel and

Discarded underwear, the Lacy

Edges still there, formerly white 

Frills that were so pretty, now

Going to seed and worn right through,

Holes in abundance, you need to get 

It together and go up Marks & Spencer 

Just to get some more plain cotton

Knickers that would be comfortable plus

Lipstick, eyeliner, powder and mascara

Max factor is always good, you’ll rid the 

Notion that you don’t fit in. Is it 

Only me who can see your beauty and  full 

Potential?  How you could easily become 

Queen of this town, and how you could

Rightly hold your head up high and 

Stare at people in the eye, not look away. 

Things are waiting beyond that dark

Underpass you constantly hide behind, 

Violently and relentlessly resisting and 

Willing to put over yet another

Xerox of your self in very faded ink.  

You know better than that, so jump in my 

Zephyr car and get some decent knickers!! 

Wasn’t that just a fascinating form of poetry, PL’s?! Get writing now and send your alphabet poems on a postcard to the usual address.

Thanks for stopping by, we’ll be back with more poetry action real soon….

That’s Poetry II

Hello Poetry Lovers

I can’t believe my luck, talented poet Trisha Broomfield has come up with my favourite subject to define what poetry is to her. Yes, her cat, Perry!

Such rich sketching ground and a very beautiful piece. I couldn’t resist adding cats of many colours too. Drawings aside, it is a very moving poem about someone who is a big part of us.

Do read on;

That’s Poetry

Your sinews when you stretch,

the leap, effortless, sleek

black satin, shiny, chic.

Your sound, merely a squeak,

you turn the other cheek.

All muscle your physique

a cat, you don’t do meek.

I admire your technique,

with claws your mark you etch.

Your profile is Bastet,

each prey you stalk you get

a kill to you, no sweat,

to songbirds you’re a threat.

You’re someone else’s pet,

yet me you don’t forget

though vanish at sunset.

You’re black as a Plantagenet

I long your grace to sketch.

© TB 2022

Wasn’t that a stunning piece?! And so personal and moving. Thank you so much, Trisha. A terrific way to show what poetry means to someone.

And I know You could also do a wonderful interpretation of what this enigmatic medium means to you, PL’s. I look forward to those postcards….

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back real soon……..

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