shartoll-light.regular (8)
You whispered something in my ear
so softly I could hardly hear
You stroked my face as you passed by
as soft as silk your touch, but I
could not see you as you danced through
the trees and leaves, elusive breeze
Let me read it to you

shartoll-light.regular (35)

Don’t speak
Words will only steal the moment
Your breath
the beating of your heart
says more than words could say

Be still
as my eyes feast on your beauty
Your satin skin
tinted by the sinking sun
is how I will remember you

Watch not
as I melt into the night
All I ask
is for a place in your heart
as you will have in mine


Let me read it to you

shartoll-light.regular (33)

I sense silence. Yet all around I hear the sounds of nature. The shingle crackles and grates under my feet, the rhythmic whoosh of the waves fills my ears and the shrieking of a hundred gulls gives a voice to the deserted shore line.

Here I am alone. Yet my companion, this hidden secret beach, is here to wrap me in splendid seclusion. I am alone but I share my very being with the raw edge of nature.

Here I hear my own voice, though silent. Here my thoughts surround me. Here I am at one with myself yet enveloped by a greater force, one which allows me the freedom I crave whilst lifting me out of myself and cradling me in glorious isolation.

The beach is ever changing. Some days filled with wrath, others tranquil and calm. Some days the sea is an enigmatic aqua, another as grey as granite. I look toward the horizon and see my life uncharted. What lies beyond? Who can tell?

But here I can be myself. Unquestioned, unchallenged. Here I can think, consider, compose.


Let me read it to you

shartoll-light.regular (31)
Slipping in and out of the shadows
hiding in dank doorways
sliding into view when a car appears
Dressed to allure, revealed to tempt
She came here on a promise
from her home overseas
Lured by a job, a flat and a future
Little did she know what awaited her
Concealed at safe distance
her sinister pimp skulks in the shadows
watching his terrified victim
plying his loathsome trade
One day she will disappear
Unknown, anonymous, a number
She will be replaced by another
then another then another and another
shartoll-light.regular (18)
‘Twas Christmas Eve and three men died,
and climbed the stairs to heaven.
But when they knocked on Peter’s gate
He said they’d have to sit and wait.‘
It’s Christmas Eve, I need my rest
My annual holiday’,
They pleaded, begged down on their knees’‘
tis Christmas help us please..’
‘OK’ said Peter, ‘here’s what I’ll do
I’ll set a test for all of you.
If you can give me festive cheer
Then there’s a place for you in here’
The first man thought and suddenly
His cell phone rang and rang.
St Peter said ‘that sound will do
I’m going to let you walk on through’
‘You see’ he said,’ it sounds like bells,
bells on Christmas day
Come on in, sit right down
You can wear my pearly crown’.
The second man lit up a fag
He lit it with a match
‘That’s great’ said Peter,’ that will do,
You can come on in here too!’
You see he said, that’s just like lights
Lights I had at home.
Like Christmas candles on my shelf
You’ve taken me outside myself.
The third man wondered what to do
His mind was just a blank.
Then he remembered what he did
That caused his heart to shoot it’s lid.
He plunged his arm into his bag
And rummaged through his bits.
Then held his hand up really high
and waved a thong up in the sky!
‘That’s not festive’ Peter said
‘It’s intimate apparel’
‘It’s Christmassy’ the dead man said’
‘Because this thong is Carols!’
shartoll-light.regular (21)
Spears of silver sunlight
Shoot through naked trees
Lighting up the leaf-strewn lane
that flickers in the breeze.
A squirrel scurries cross the track
A rabbit sits and stares
A pigeon sways upon a branch
A red fox stands and glares.
High in the sky,
unbroken blue, a perfect vee of geese.
On a distant hill a flock of sheep
Wrapped in winter fleece.
Red holly berries, mistletoe,
Ivy climbs stone walls.
Dormant plants and sleeping flowers
Wait til springtime calls.
November days, brief spells of sun
Evenings front a fire of logs
November nights of crackling frost
Misty dawns and frozen bogs.
Winter’s here
Spring can wait
Now’s the time to hibernate.

shartoll-light.regular (30)


She holds a daisy in her hand

he loves me, he loves me not

Scattering petals to the wind

he loves me, he loves me not
I watch scarcely daring to breath

he loves me, he loves me not

then slowly walk towards her

he loves me, he loves me not
She plucks the last petal

he loves you

I say



shartoll-light.regular (29)
!’ve tried it,
I’ve done it.
Not once,
Nor twice,
but thrice.
I’ve been there,
I’ve seen there.
It happened
It failed,
now I’m free.
Now I’m reborn,
no longer forlorn.
I’m happy,
I’m carefree,
I’m ME!
The future is here,
The future is clear.
Now I will live,
now I will give,
now I will let myself grow.
What shall I do?
Where shall I go?
I’ll do what I want
whenever I want.
I’ll do whatever I please!
shartoll-light.regular (27)
I’m looking for a key.
One which will open the secret of a life I seek,
but cannot find.
The key to total happiness.
I’m trying to find the key in which to sing my song.
The key which will carry my melody.
The key which everyone can reach,
so we can all sing in in harmony.
I’ve lost a key.
What happened to the key to my box?
The box of treasures which I am saving for the day
when I need to remind myself how lucky I’ve been.
Please help me find my key.
Somewhere there is a key to break my code.
The code I was given in the cradle.
The code which explains who I am and why I’m here.
The key to me.
My arch of life would be nothing but a pile of bricks
without a keystone to hold each side in place.
One small stone, which if removed,
would send my life crashing down around me.
I have a key which winds my clock.
The clock within me.
I must look after my key.
my pendulum of life will stop.
Key means vital, fundamental,
Basic, main and quintessential.
Key means major,
key means crucial
My keys to me are ever central.
shartoll-light.regular (26)
I’d love to write a poem
A poem of my own
One which people want to read
So I’ll become well known.
I sit and stare into my screen
The words just fail to flow
I scratch my head and bite my nails
My poem just won’t grow.
The other day a line appeared
inside my fuzzy head.
But could I find some words to rhyme?
I wrote some prose instead.
‘The boy stood on the burning deck’
‘Lonely goat herd, hills.’
‘Once more into the breach dear friends’
‘A host of golden daffodils’
If they can do it why can’t I?
It’s not for want of trying.
My friends can do it, it’s not fair
I think I feel like crying.
So let’s have a practice
find some words wot rhyme.
Let’s try really really hard
And invest some time.
Bard, card, lard, yard, jarred?
Plop, hop, drop, cop, mop
Kite, white, fight, might, plight
Stop, crop, lop, bop, flop.
That didn’t help,
at least I tried
I don’t know what to do.
But wait a minute,
something stirred!
A feeling that’s quite new.
Here goes!
‘He gazed into her longing eyes
And saw inside her mind.
He gazed at her and realised
that he…he ….he…..’.
Oh pooo!
 I guess I’ll never make the grade
I’ll never be a bard.
Poetry is not my thing
It’s far too bloody hard!