It has been exceedingly windy in my neck of the woods the last few days. Cold, icy blasts of wind have blown across the bay and bullied those of us dwelling on the shore. The leaves of autumn have been dancing in my garden.The trees bend and cower. So, batten down the hatches and hang onto your hat, because all this windy weather prompts me to share a couple of wind driven poems.  It also provides an opportunity to reintroduce a couple of poets, previously celebrated here- the wonderful of Spike Milligan and the equally amazing Max Fatchen return to blow you away with their words.   WINDS LIGHT TO DISASTROUS As I sipped morning tea A gale (force three) Blew away a slice of toast Then a gale (force four) Blew my wife out the door I wonder which I'll miss the most She was still alive When a gale (force five) Blew her screaming o'er Golders Green When a gale six blew And it took her to A mosque in the Medanine Now I pray to heaven That a gale (force seven)

Young poets are always asking, 'Of all the poems you have written, what is your favourite poem?' I have trouble designating a particular poem. For me, it's a bit like being asked, 'Of all your children, who is your favourite?  Among a poet's collection there are poems that receive a good reaction, and poems that receive regular requests. There are also poems that have quite special memories attached to them. This makes them particularly special for me as the writer. Then there are those freshly made poems that as a poet I am keen to share. Those poems bring a new energy. Nestled among my favourite poems are some that are more intentionally thoughtful, because poetry is capable of appealing to every emotion. I like it when my poems make a reader, laugh and smile, giggle and guffaw, but I am equally pleased when my poems make the reader pause to think. I am happy to declare quite openly though, the following poem, written by Brian Moses remains a personal favou