The Baker


The Baker

The baker wakes so very early
to bake his daily bread,
toasty blankets cast adrift,
he laments the rift from bed.

But once the loaves are rising,
his nose begins to fill
with smells so appetising,
he marvels at his skill.

His brioche is to die for,
jam donuts light and fluffy,
the high top loaf is standing tall,
the sausage rolls are puffy.

His fairy cakes are delicate,
soft mouthfuls are transcendent,
with butter cream of every tint,
the frosting is resplendent.

His pies have all the best of fillings,
juiciest steak and chicken,
the gravy is delectably rich,
he’s a secret way to thicken.

His flaky pastry takes the cake,
the perfect wrap for pie,
the warm light pasties make the grade
and all the mouths will sigh

and sing his praise, gustatory
king of the bakery world,
his pastries always take the prize,
his fervour is unfurled.


For you Lynne

The Cigarette Break

The office is split
along nicotine lines

smokers get the breaks
and the breaking news,
there’s power in the union
of the smokers

a solidarity forged
outside the building,
in the elements
for the essential

cigarette break,

comradeship in the line of fire,
friendships forged in the furnace
of office gossip,

crossing the nicotine lines
is harder for smokers
than extracting oneself
from the grip of an



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Slow down and smell the time


living in the now,
stop and take a moment
to rest one’s wings
the duck rests
when the moment allows,
creative thought flows


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