Poetry – Once Upon a Time – A poem that is a fairy tale for all life on the planet – with a happy ending.

Poetry – Once Upon a Time – A poem that is a fairy tale for all life on the planet – with a happy ending.

Prose Cons and poetry cover

Once upon a time

A fairy tale with a happy ending.

Life’s slow evolution from such unlikely circumstance to the triumph of intelligence has to be the most remarkable story of all.

How life grew from slime to mankind without a pumpkin in sight, no fairy godmother and no wish. More remarkable than any genii in any bottle. More incredible than any story thought up by man. More wonderful than can be imagined. We are alive to look out at this incredible celestial infinity with minds enough to gasp and wish to understand.

That is my gift of a fairy tale. It is really called chance creation and evolution but I prefer to call it …. Once upon a time.


Once upon a time


Once upon a time

There was a tiny green jewel

That circled round a beautiful golden dawn.

It was on this viridian gem

That mankind was born.


Through multitudes

Of chance and death defying stance

Stretching all imagination

And every circumstance

We created this fascination.


Riding the realms of fire

Through the aeons of fury

Minds were forged that led to you and me,

Created this fantasy

And brought all life to be.


Step by slow step

Up the ladder we climbed

Blind, ignorant and by instinct primed

We sought to break the bonds

Through which we were confined.


With sight to see

We looked around with awe

At the celestial majesty outside our door

And sang a refrain upon the wind

From all the days of yore.


This is that song

Of wonder and delight

Sung to the rooftops of every resilient rafter

That we finally get it right and

All live happily ever after.




Photography – The Ribble Valley – mountains, viaducts, waterfalls and rivers – a wondrous landscape.

We visited in 2011 and climbed the three peaks one after the other (on separate days). We had glorious warm weather and the scenery was stunning. The phots don’t do justice!

Here they are anyway!

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My belief – The Zeitgeist – we can change the world.

My belief – The Zeitgeist – we can change the world.


I am a very happy, contented, positive character. (Contrary to what many of you may glean from some of my writing).

I am an eternal optimist.

I believe we can solve every problem and make the world perfect. We have the intelligence and problem solving capacity.

I believe in the zeitgeist.

I am not religious – I am an antitheist – I believe religions have created immense harm and are all manufactured by people. I do not believe in God or at least any force that you would recognise as god.

I am a scientist.

I am a scientist who believes that we are only at the beginning of understanding the universe and our own minds. We have much to learn.

I believe that somehow our mental processes produce as yet undiscovered emanations that affect everyone around us. It joins us together into an intermeshing network of minds; we swim in a mental pool created by us all. This is the zeitgeist of the moment.

I have lived through positive and negative zeitgeists. My belief is that we can change the world. If enough of us produce a positive vibe it will tilt the balance of the zeitgeist.

That may sound weird, wacky and naïve to you. It does to me as well. But that’s my hope for the future.

I write so that the nightmares we are creating don’t happen. I want to awaken everyone to what is going on and change the zeitgeist.

I am the eternal optimist but I see myself as a realist. It merely requires more of us! We can make a difference!

Photography – The Eden Project – An adventure in Ecology.

Photography – The Eden Project – An adventure in Ecology.

The Eden Project was set up in a gully in Cornwall. It is an adventurous exploration of horticulture in geodesic domes that look like an alien has landed in the place.

The geodesic greenhouses are home for many exotic climates. It’s a great place to visit. A bit alternative and difference – like Kew Gardens with a touch of acid.

Here’s a few photos:


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Aliens in the valley


I was doing this artistic thing – looking for the patterns in exotic leaves – I called it horticultural art.

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I was very taken with these works of art painted on the rocks. I think they brought an artist across to do them. I thought they were great.

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More horticultural art.

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The flies grow big in Cornwall!!

Poetry – Nothing is Sacred – a poem about the establishment, justice, freedom and hypocrisy.

Poetry – Nothing is Sacred – a poem about the establishment, justice, freedom and hypocrisy.

Book of Ginny cover

Nothing is Sacred

This is the world of hypocrisy where the establishment preserves itself and wields its power.

Religion is used to control the people and our children are taught the rudiments of violence through play. This is the world where money talks. The last rhino, gorilla, chimp, dolphin, whale, lion and tiger will likely be purchased by a trophy hunter. If you have enough money you can buy a jet-fighter or even an atomic bomb.

We are living in the free market and we’re up for sale.

The whole planet is becoming a Disney-world tourist trap and we are stuck on the paper.

The media control our thoughts, tastes and dreams.

The media produces an endless diet of distracting, mindless trivia.

We can be bought if the price is right.

The rebels are incorporated into the consumer package.


Morality is a victim of the system. It speaks where the money is and is quiet when the victims scream.

Nothing is Sacred

There’s a plastic Jesus on the dashboard,

A toy gun on the floor,

A poster Bosch upon the wall,

All bought from the local store.


If you pay the price

You can buy everything

From a rhino to a bomb.

No one cares about anything

They’re all going for a song.


Nothing is sacred

Anything can be bought

Including every one of us

In this world

Morality counts for nought.


Opher 2.9.2015

Poetry – The Spider – It’s real – I know it’s waiting for me indoors!

Poetry – The Spider – It’s real – I know it’s waiting for me indoors!


The Spider

It is that time of year again. The large house spiders are on the move. The big males are off hunting females to mate. They bounce across your carpet, veering and halting unpredictable.

They lurk in the recesses and under everything.

They are huge, dark and hairy. Their bristles are evil.

At night they emerge to climb walls and on to beds.

They appear in bath-tubs and showers.

They also loom even larger in my imagination!


I am an entomologist. I should know better. But childhood experiences combine with evolutionary instinct to tell me that these things are dangerous, evil and a malevolent force.

Nothing will persuade me otherwise.

We have a huge one in the house. My wife saw it scurry under the bath.

I know it’s there, somewhere.

The Spider

Malevolently scurrying across the floor,

Scuttling to a standstill, assessing,

Watching with its many eyes,

Weighing up the scene.

Then darting into dark crevices

Impossible to squeeze into

To lurk and plan

Its evil re-emergence.


When darkness falls

It is there

Under the cushion

Under the pillow

Brushing the sleeping face

With its bristles

Legs and gnashing mandibles.

Delighting in its success.


No web

Or patient wait

For this one.

He is quick

And unpredictable,

Equipped with

Many legs

And a brain

That intends

To terrify.













No ordinary spider.


Opher 3.9.2015

Poetry – Ripples – A poem for a new positive Zeitgeist amid the infinite ripples of energy we emanate.

Poetry – Ripples – A poem for a new positive Zeitgeist amid the infinite ripples of energy we emanate.



This was inspired by Calansariel who puts nice comments on my blog. She was talking about how energy never wears out but goes on for ever and so, in effect, so do we.

I have this crazy notion that we are all connected by this zeitgeist we produce and so had the inspiration to meld the two ideas together; our energy rippling out to touch everyone around us and help create the mental climate of the future.

We are building the zeitgeist in which we flourish. We can make it positive and change the world for the better.

Our mental ripples will caress humanity for the rest of time.

It’s a nice thought.

The poem is exactly as it came out of my head just now. It probably needs a lot of work – this is it raw. I’ll work on it later.



Ripples in an infinite sea

Of energy

And possibility.

Brushing minds

As they pass,


Swirling the thoughts


So clever

They evade credibility.

Ripples of a life

From you and me

To echo

Through time


The weather.


Most intimately

Our dreams


And schemes

As we alter

The climate

In which we swim

And create

New electricity,

New hope

For you and me

Amid this


We are building

A new vision

A zeitgeist

As our ripples


What will surely be.


Opher 4.9.2015

Do Planets Dream? – a Poem.

Do Planets Dream?


Do planets dream as they embrace their moon?

Are galaxies dancing to a cosmic tune?

Is our sun prancing in great glee

As it hugs us with its gravity?


What is this beautiful music of infinity?

Something sublime including you and me?

I think I can hear it as I stare up into the sky.

It vibrates through me as I quietly sigh.


Opher 17.9.2019

Poetry – The Tumble Drier – a humorous poem about the world within our heads.

Poetry – The Tumble Drier – a humorous poem about the world within our heads.


The Tumble Drier

I’m not sure if the humour comes across enough in this. I’m a bit too close.

I liked the idea of my mind being like a tumble drier with scintillating thoughts as bright sparks being swept around and joining in new ways. I liked the idea of them chuckling and being naughty. I liked the idea that when you get them to slow down enough to make into words you can never fully capture their brilliance. The black and white symbols are so much less than the brilliant flashes.

If only I could encapsulate the firework display inside my skull and translate them into symbols that glittered and spat their sparkly fire.

I’d change the world.

The Tumble Drier

There’s a tumble drier churning in my head.

It’s tumbling the sparks that are my ideas.

If there was a window in my skull you’d see

Blue and yellow electric flashes of electricity




Like the swirling of the sea.


They swirl and flash

As on my skull they bash

Knocking sense

Into my brain

So dense

That it feels

No pain.


It’s a washing machine

Geared to cleaning up the sparks

So that they can see

To join themselves

For further larks.


As they tumble through the space inside my head

They chuckle as they fall

And join together in endless new ways

Like children giggling in a school.


I have to capture them

And make them stand still

So I can record in symbols

And get my fill.


Sometimes they spin like a hurricane

And light up my eyes with an inner firework display,

Generating emotions and dreams, anger and fury,

And conjure up dragons to slay.


These are those bright sparks

Reduced to black and white

No longer shiny bright

But still lighting up the dark

And sometimes giving me a fright.


There’s a tumble drier churning in my head.

It’s tumbling the sparks that are my ideas.

If there was a window in my skull you’d see

Blue and yellow electric flashes of electricity




Like the swirling of the sea.


Opher 5.9.2015

Listening to my old Grandma.

Listening to my old Grandma.


Listening to my old Grandma

My Grandma is long dead but she lived to the fine old age of ninety six. She was born in 1890s and so saw the most amazing changes.

I remember sitting down with her while she reminisced. It was extremely salutary. I was entranced.

As a young girl she had played in the streets. They were untarmaced mud and compacted dirt with ruts made by carts. The transport was horse-drawn or steam train. There were no cars. There was no electricity or running water and only outdoor toilets. The house was heated with a single coal fire in an open grate.

She had watched the first planes, made of string and paper (as she put it), crawl across the skies. She saw the first cars bump along the rutted streets. She lived through two world wars and saw her husband and sons go off to fight for God and Country.

Back then the class system was firmly in place. The poor were poor, the middle class were a little better off and the bosses and aristocracy lived in the mansions. Down her street there was great poverty with families not having money to buy food for the children. Kids were sewn into their clothes for the winter to prevent them developing chills. Some could not afford shoes. Infant mortality was high. Every family lost children to disease induced by poor sanitation, malnutrition, cold and damp and disease. She’d lost a child.

She’s seen a different world come into being. Following the wars the Labour Trade Union movement achieved better standards of pay and conditions, the standard of living for ordinary families rose. Cars, televisions, telephones and computers became standard fare for working families. There was welfare for those on hard times. People could take holidays and travel.

The roads were tarmaced, there were millions of cars, and the pace of life was faster.

The churches emptied and people were openly critical of those in power. They no longer ‘knew their place’. They spoke their mind and were not content to be kept down. The class system was weakened. It was no longer ‘God, King and Country’. They questioned the policies and wisdom.

Technology brought electricity, machines, refrigerators, washing machines, dishwashers, hoovers and hot water that transformed the drudgery of life. However my Grandma still had her weekly wash and boiled her linen (and sometimes curtains and other items) in a huge copper on the stove. Heaven knows how she managed to do that into her old age.

Women became more educated and entered the professions. They weren’t content to be mere housewives.

My Grandma was incredulous that in her lifetime there had been a change from bi-planes made of wood, paste and lacquered paper to space-stations and space-craft that could go to the Moon.

The social changes were even more dramatic.

I doubt that we will ever see such spectacular changes again.

It is hard to believe that for centuries very little altered. People went along in much the same way their parents and grandparents had done. They wore similar clothes, had similar jobs requiring similar skills and led a life that was much the same as those of generations before. In the 20th Century that changed. The speed of change has been continuous. Our children live in a totally different world. The world of 2015 would have seemed like science fiction to my 1950s self. I could not have imagined it. Computers, mobile phones and the internet would have seemed far-fetched.

My Grandma used to remark that she did not think all this ‘progress’ made anyone happier.

Now the divide is between the ways the West lives and the impoverished lives of many in the third world. Perhaps that is the next revolution?

What world, or should I say solar system, will our grandchildren think of as normal?