So here’s the thing – when I’m stuck on a poem it stresses me. If I give it a rest, I stress about not writing. Then my head explodes, I get a cold and my eczema burns my entire body to a Frazzle (the bacon-flavoured corn snack we all love and miss). However, I just found Verbatim Found Poetry blogspot, and now in just a scant half hour I have ‘written’ and submitted three poems, and can relax…

Here’s what treasures lie nestled within any self-respecting pretentious, superficial style magazine’s pages…

Wardrobe Mistress

My mother is ninety and likes

To wear a nice dress.

But she is tiny.


Size ten, and only five feet tall, she likes

Colour, nothing too clingy.

And needs a collar.


She would also like some nonslip

Ankle boots that are

Size four and a half.


Please help.


Nobody seems to cater for

Small, slim people of a certain age

Who are not terrifically flexible.


Do not want low necklines.

Do not like black and beige.


The Problem With Red

How do you wear yours?

I’m talking about red.

On a dress?


On a coat?


Any other way?


Than on your lips?

Maybe not.


I don’t know many women

Who wear red.

Despite Valentino’s best

And beautiful intentions as a blonde,

I’ve always found it brassy.

It’ s a colour that says


When you don’t always want



I’m getting my head around red.

By wearing it with things

I do like.

Silver shoes,

A berry knit,



I’d enjoy on any day of the week.


Invisibility Cloak

Beau Brummell said

If people turn to look at you on the street,

You are not well-dressed.


And that’s my philosophy too.


We live in a postmodern,

A dangerous world.


As William Burroughs noted

The secret of invisibility

Is seeing another before he sees you.