Driftwood & Other Poems


Wandering Albatrosses

Bombs, bombs, everywhere
Nor any drop to drink.
Let’s leave the country
So we don’t explode, but sink.


Two little boys
were found on the shore
Just little boys –
how many more?


Many refugees
fleeing foreign soil
end up like sardines
in a can, preserved with oil.

In The Back

Fathers and mothers
gasping for breath.
Their children are sleeping
peaceful as death.

No Britons Hurt

You left your country
to avoid being quarry.
You made it to Europe
to die in a lorry.

What can I tell you?
People seem sorry
before they turn over
in time to watch Corrie.

There Was…

There was a war
So we ran away
But no one would give us
A place to stay.

There was a war
We fled our town
But we came all this way
Only to drown.

Photo from Armstrong Economics

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