With trembling knees, I took my position. The stage was set.
Before me sat a school of eyes: transfixed, gazing with anticipation. Piercing the silence with an unfurling of paper, I stepped forwards, my mouth pressed to the microphone.
A kick of adrenaline, engaging of breath and I began.
“My inspiration.”
Humble Houghton MBE; centre-half, captain, Man City.
A lioness leader, Durham born and raised.
With writing and wit, I’ll heap the praise.

England debut at just 17.
Free-kick expert, living the dream.
Old-school-gritty-no-nonsense defender.
An accurate passer - return to sender.

A right-footed shot to burst the net.
Dedicating her life, she doesn’t forget: school teams, amateur level, Sunderland weekends.

A cup final beckons: the star of the show, the women’s game - she’s watched it grow.
Now girls put on their boots, their shinnies and smile.
Aiming to go that extra mile.

The right to play football, the right to be free,
Raising awareness of MND,  
Best of the best, who can it be?
Stephanie Jayne Houghton MBE.

Stepping away from the microphone the applause raining down, I knew I’d made an impression on people. Just like Steph had on me.

Faltering plans
An indecisive mind,
Consistency in itself is an art
An explosive start!
Followed by;
Fumbling fingers and idiotic ideas.
What next?
Do we pitstop like Hamilton?
We were in pole position.
Reassert, focus and keep on track.
We are the drivers of our own Destiny...

My Cat slept a lot today
It's not an unusual thing
He was asleep when I went out
And asleep when I came in

The Whiskers twitch, the tail flicks
Perhaps a playful dream
Oh he's awake! No. Just turned round
The laziest cat I've seen!

Inside cockpit command control, a proud young captain sits fiddling with his tie. Out on the runway, a parade of boisterous holiday makers stream through a wall of steamy-sticky heat.
A scraping of cases amid jubilant faces, as they flock to their seats in frantic fashion. Offering warm greetings, the sun spreads its orange glow; kissing the face of many a passenger.
Raucous voices become feeble mutterings, drowned by roaring engines. Knuckles white as chalk from clenched fists: an anxiety that is to be short-lived.
We ascend to the clouds, above motorways and mountains; entering an endless wash of blue. Smiles chucked around like confetti bringing a sense of: new opportunity, hope and adventure. As we rise above.

So I went to get new glasses
Cos my eyes have felt real bad
I went there feeling cr*p
I left there feeling sad
I squinted and I squirmed
In that black opticians chair
"I'm afraid your vouchers expired sir"
"**** off that isn't fair!"
Well that's what I wanted to say
But I bit me lip and sighed
When she told me what I owed
I almost frickin died
"How much?! I blurted back
Wide eyed and unamused
I was fed up and so I nodded
**** me should have refused!
I hope these glasses see covid
It should for that friggin' sum
Stick your lenses and your voucher
Right up your b

Atop the ladder twenty-twenty,
I was enjoying the view.
Care Home visits a plenty,
Faces old and new.
Singing songs to raise a smile,
And vacant minds re-awoken,
Music to boost morale,
Mending souls once broken.
Frail voices murmured approval,
For favourite singers of their day.
“That was lovely! - Just wonderful!
Have a tea! - Please stay!”
Then, we talked all afternoon,
For little did we know,
What was around the corner,
The invisible foe.

And just like that, we were separated.
Back down the ladder I’d go.
Down there at the bottom,
The flowers would not grow.
The rays that kissed my cheek,
Were hidden from my gaze,
A tortured isolation,
As we entered a new phase.
Yet in your darkest hour,
I wished to shine a light,
So I worked to find new ways,
Tirelessly through the night.

Springtime and summer,
Brought with it a new hope:
Outdoor shows, joy and laughter,
(Needed to help us cope.)
My feet were on the ladder,
And life was on the up,
But slipping on the rain,
I fell back in the muck.

Atop the ladder twenty-twenty,
Now that seems long ago,
Through all the loss and tears,
I did the only thing I know.
Which was to carry on,
With a stiff upper lip.
I’d see you all again,
Once I regained my grip.

Twenty-twenty one flew by,
Just like the year before.
With notes of heartfelt lyrics,
Hidden in my drawer.
What awaits atop the ladder
For twenty-two, who knows?
But I’ll never forget,
When I helped them through their woes.

Wizard - Caster
Forest - Dweller
Mountain - Trekker
Dragon - Slayer
Priestess - Curer
Damsel - Dreamer
Hostage - Tracker
Pendant - Stealer

Ripples in the water
Roses in the bush
Rainbow views
Raindrops and *****
Remedies for the soul
Reminiscing,
Relaxing times
Reflecting, wishing
**** Red dress
Revitalised mind, richly defined
Take me there...

Split skin on red knuckles, the sanitiser has left its mark.
A Common-place application, a routine, like brushing ones teeth.
Scars bare the hallmarks of a damaged soul, searching for a safe solitude.
How did I get to this point?
The point of: avoiding others, hiding away, irritable behaviour. An
Introvert? Perhaps.
A word now at least I understand, as I drift into a lonely world or some single-player fantasy.
Mask on, shield down, a warrior heads into battle; to fight an invisible war. Unsure of the outcome, unsure of himself.
Not sure of anything, anymore.

There are sometimes just too many words,
to use, to pick or say,
we think we have them sorted,
and then they slip away.
We know the right ones
and plan what ones to use,
until we get all flummoxed,
leaving ourselves confused.
I used to be good with words,
but they've vanished from my lips,
if you're good with words yourself,
please give me some tips!

The wind bellows:
Unrelenting, pounding, cold.
A dog barks, sending sharp shivers down my spine.
Lying on my front my nose presses against the mud, It's earthy smell filling my nostrils.
Footsteps quicken; voices rise, the taste of salty sweat on my brow.
They've found me.
Reaching for my revolver I grasp it firmly, assured at last.
A single shot fires, it's echoes piercing the night as the thirsty ground soaks up my blood.

I have several things left to pack:
First, the old grey jumper.
Second, a dusty photo album.
Third, that China plate from the kitchen.

Moving through to the hallway,
I swivel on the spot.
The cat eyes me from the stairs,
Swishing his tail left to right.

I gesture to him: In childlike voice
"Don't worry I won't be leaving you".

Boxes laid at my feet, I fumble about.
What a life;
You spend most of it collecting junk;
And then you realise,
What an earth are you going to do with it all?

Leave it behind?
Chuck it away?
Chuck it away, leave it behind?
A disastrously difficult decision!
We are all sentimental someway.

The smell of cooked beef wafted from the kitchen.
Ah, home cooked meals.
I suppose it'll be takeaways soon.
Until we've settled in of course.

It's really real now isn't it?
Like a punch of reality,
Slapping you in the face.
Mixed emotions,
A bit like Sunday: You enjoy it but know that Mondays coming.

Gently, I stroked my cat.
Amongst the purring:
There came a sudden realisation,
That I had not started my list yet.

Today I woke a happy fellow
Saw dancing daisies in the meadow
The sun was up to greet me so
With golden smile all aglow
Its rays of light of sparkling bliss
Did plant upon my cheek a kiss
Then wrapped me in warmful embrace
And set my beating heart apace
For springtime's grace has superseded
Savage winter which we heeded
Its colours blend a joyful soul
With heavenly palms we extol
The beautiful spring that whispers love
That fits my hand just like a glove
Today I am a happy fellow
Dancing daisies in the meadow

As the door closes on another England Chapter
A sterling effort far from disaster
A first major final in fifty-five years
Jubilant voices replaced by tears
But we've come along way in such a short time
Maguire and Stones a solid back-line
Pickford mature and calm between the sticks
A terrific save in penalty kicks
Shouts of "Shawberto!" From the stands
A chorus of 'Sweet Caroline' "hands touching hands"
Cries of "bring on Grealish!" Phil Foden's bleach blonde hair
Fist pumps from Southgate
The passion was there
Beating the Germans at last
Now that felt sublime
Sterling a constant menace now in his prime
But we came up short and that's what matters
Broken hearts English dreams in tatters
Yet I firmly believe this is just the beginning
So keep your heads up and keep on singing
"It's coming home it's coming home"
Cos it will one day
Even though it rains and the sky is grey
Red and white ribbons on that cup we'll see
And what a perfect sight it will be

Expectant people packed into stands
their voices issuing a rallying cry
as players take to the pitch
sporting a new season kit
for the last game
wishing to salvage a smidgen of pride
from a lacklustre campaign
it's come down to this
a moment that will determine the future of a club
the radio's are readied
held in unsteady hands

Friends walk side-by-side
when you need them most
as woes tug at your sleeve
or tackle you from behind
they're there to halt the fall
until you're ready
ready to face the rising sun
as the curtains open on a new day
that is not overwhelming anymore

Addiction.
I'm reminded of that word,
As I sit in the dark.
Racing heart,
Twitching fingers,
Sweaty palms.
Relapse time,
Red devil eyes
Will it ever stop?

They jump from high trees
Yellowish-Brown swift leapers
In the torrid heat

I love films!
Some long others short
I've lost count how many I've bought
I love films!

I love films!
Black and white to colour
A cool dvd cover
I love films!

I love films!
Box sets, special edition
Today's new acquisition
I love films!

I love films!
My moment to be free
Sat with my cup of tea
I love films!

I love films!
Simply put they're the best
What do I love? You've guessed!
I love films!

All about me I remember,
The warrior, the wise teacher,
The prophets gazing at the stars,
The reddish vivid glow of Mars -
And I'm reminded of their muscular form;
Thick-skinned and proud, one born
To the region of Magnesia or Mount Pelion,
An army of spears sharp and long.

From every side they came,
The longbow with steady aim,
The warriors pointed silver swords,
The hoofbeats pounding came towards.
Then, I closed my eyes and awaited death,
Icy-cold and dark, the breath
Of my lungs heavy in my chest,
A befitting end to a perilous quest.

(Sip, sip)
     It
Trickles
       Down
     My
  Throat
The warmth
  Hitting
      My
   Chest
      Like
       A
     Perfect
       CRASH.
      Lungs... EXPAND........
      As
       I
      breathe
     You
        In.
      The
      Empty glass
       F
       A
       L
        L
        S
   I pick it up,
                        and drink you again.

Once it begins there’s no stopping it.
Like a train going full steam ahead,
Or a jet soaring through the air.
Despair, anger and fury; all packed into one box.
A time bomb ready to explode at any given moment.

Should I try to reason with it?
Probably not, so off I trot.
Up to my room, safest place, my saving grace.
A chance to cool off, whilst the storm rages on downstairs; its echoing boom pounding the walls.
The bed shakes and the light goes out.

It’ll be quiet again in the morning.
Back to normal, and the walls will bear no scars.
Evil glares and ruffled brows, replaced with sweet smiles and warming hugs.
And all will be forgotten.