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 se...

I went rummaging through my poet's suitcase and found a gem of a poem from the late Australian poet, Max Fatchen. Max was born on the Adelaide plains in South Australia in 1920. and grew up on a farm among hayfields and huge Clydesdale horses, which he drove in a plough that made quite crooked furrows (Max's assessment). Max died in 2012.  Max later became a journalist working on Adelaide newspapers and worked throughout Australia and overseas. He most enjoyed writing stories about people.  Four decades of writing for children, especially those of primary school age, began in 1966 with 'The River Kings.'  He wrote 20 books; his novels appear in seven countries and his poetry throughout the English-speaking world. As well as novels he  a collection of short stories and several books of verse for young readers.  His verse is frequently included in anthologies. Max had a wry sense of humour and this comes through in a lot of his writing. Since then it has b...