Tag Archives: poetry


When sorrow sits
On your chest
The hangdog look
On your face,
And all the world seems
Like the least unfriendly place,
You may be down,
But not out, for
There is still something left
In the tank.

Just gotta push
Right on through
Til the you
That you once knew
Can ride the wave
Of happiness again;
Just another ripple in the ocean,
Wave to be ridden,
Dip in the clackety-clack
Of old wooden rollercoaster pull
Up the long slope to that first steep drop,
Heart in throat, then stomach in brain,
Whooshing down to the bottom,
Then back up again.

The asinine flow
Of life’s ups and downs,
Raising us into the air,
Only to smash us back to the ground.
Still we ride the wave,
Feel the flow,
Let rip,
Let it go,
Because there is no
Other way to be –

That is you.

And this
is me.


Too long standing, with
Back bowed, listening as
The words trip slip flip from
My mind’s handstongue, only
To die on the page, flopping listless
Like dying fish, until they lay dead and
Wasting, energy-less, for the next sweet touch
Of reader’s eyes, too long have I waited
Wanting, hoping, pushing, for some-
Thing new to arise, some great find, like
Semantic archaeologist, digging deep for
That one true rhythm that is mine,
Only to be told by inaction wrested from
The lips of those around, that what spews forth
Is no more real, or tangible to the touch,
Than you or I dreaming nothingness into being,
As such.

Bowed, waiting forever for life to
Return the favour, only realising by stealth
That waiting is no good for anyone’s
Health, but instead the striving for more,
But not more things, more meaning, or
Even more truth, just another day,
Un-bowed, with love and warmth
Under one roof.

So, wait no more do I, instead
I sing, of flowers and petals, of
Explosions and rings, with a screaming
Headless horseman breathing down
My back, I will keep on writing every
Day, until the words come no more,
And on that wordless day of life,
I will descend below the earth’s floor.

waiting sounds

the sound of people
Waiting, as if somewhere
to go were a natural birthright,
right for some but not others
and still the unsettlingly calm
buzz, of people humming their
comfortable dissidence, with
holding on, like the quiet murmur
an aural hug, paused anticipation
murmuring silence as train approaches
so calm, just another pasttime missed,
lonely call of the calm empty heart, not
empty of love, just the opposite, empty
of longing, of loss, of sadness, and so
emptied, so full of love, happiness, completion,
for this is the murmuring of a happy future,
energetic buzz calming whisps of worry
away, until all that remains is that quiet
general human thrum of waiting time
burned, huddled close on cold platform,
watching puffs of cold white from breathing
bodies, til train arrival breaks the shared
monotony, filling it with shifting noise and
moving hearts, people flowing up and off,
gone, leaving empty platform paused,
until more bustling, vibrating, breathing
humanity fills the empty void between
lost moments, only to start all over

Journey to the centre of the ITIL

Service Management was such a drag,
And Finance thought IT in the bag,
As the poorer cousin to money’s way,
Until ITIL came along to save the day.

Before ITIL there was no sight,
Of technology’s fortune, wrong or right,
Yet now with Service Request to lead the way,
We can actually see what is, and do what we say.

Then along comes Incident, to protect the user,
The business customer, victim to IT’s bruiser,
With a quick turn-around to fix the issue,
We pat customer’s on the back, and pass the tissue.

Incident’s role plain to see,
Problem traipses along with glee,
And displays all of Incident’s dirty laundry,
Using trend analysis to solve the quandary.

Following Problem, Change is next in line,
To lock down mistakes, all in good time,
To minimise risk, Change’s big brother,
And protect Release and deploy, Change’s father and mother.

From Change’s mistake bursts Incident’s leader,
Major Incident storms in, making everything teeter,
Yet with Continuity and Disaster Recovery hanging around,
We happily take Major Incident down, pound for pound.

Now on top of this whole darn terminology mess,
We add on Capacity backed by Configuration & Asset’s finesse,
Then Availability comes along to watch the Event,
With Financial Management to pay the rent.

Finally Customer Services steps on board,
To measure the performance and fight the hoard,
With Service Analysis and Reporting in tow,
And Service Levels showing the way to go.

It takes all of Knowledge’s wily way,
To turn the tides of dissent on customer’s dismay,
With the Service Desk skilled to the hilt,
Keeping business as usual running full tilt.

With Information Security watching the gate,
To ensure that IT arrives safely, if a little late,
Service Strategy hands off to Design and Transition,
With Service Operations fighting for pole position.

Along comes Continual Service Improvement to save the day,
Although sometime in the future, in a Utopia far, far away,
When all of the statistics finally make sense,
And best practice becomes present tense.

Now all of the happy customers, consultants too,
Deliver real benefits, driving change on through,
And even if the measurements are not always clear,
We know that a best practice expert is always near.

Seagulls tease of oceans far

Seagulls tease
Of oceans far
Reminding me
Of salt memories

Of splashing waves
And sandy beaches
Of happy summers
Decades gone.

Yet still the thought
Of happy childhood
Echoed in the large birds’ cry
Taints the sharp cold bite of morning

Under the faint grey blue sky.