The Rice Field


Two unnamed horses were leaning over a fence

There used to be a railway here

I know it was closed down many years ago

I suppose the reasoning was the jockey’s welfare


Well jockeys are by nature small people

And the railway owners were worried

That they would have become lost and disorientated

If the service continued

That seemed a good reason to close the railway


Cold War

Two farmers were walking towards the town

The stopped outside of a scrapyard

This is a graveyard of buses

I know they have used this area for years

Since the Cold War ended

I wonder why they scrap buses

It seems incredible to me that they do so

If the Cold War starts again

And we are heading that way

I wonder what they will do with all these buses

It will be a problem as there are so many


The Rice Field

In a rice field two peasants were discussing sea-horses

Their day had finished and they were walking towards their homes

I cannot see what attracts these creatures to the rice fields

They are so graceful

They must be attracted by the coloured towels that we bring with us each day

That is a possibility

When I was a child and my mother and father worked these fields

There were no sea-horses then

What has changed in thirty years?

Only one thing has changed since those far off days

What is that my friend?

The colour of our towels

When we were young we only brought white towels

There were no coloured towels  

We now bring towels of many colours

That I believe is what attracts these beautiful creatures

To the wet-fields



Three pelicans were found outside of an inn

Fighting over a small twig

A passer-by stopped an took the twig away from the birds

He asked why they could not agree on ownership

It is not the twig that we are fighting over

But the shadow it creates

Today is a very bright January day do you not agree?

It is a very bright day which is certainly unusual for January

Days such as today can occur when low pressure from the west and high pressure from the east meet

It is like being on the edge of a cliff

You could be five miles away and be under a blanket of cloud

That is was what we were fighting about

None of us cared much about the twig

We only cared about its shadow

In an hour this area might be dull  

And we would lose the memory of this illuminated day

That is why the conflict arose