Small narrow sheltered bays Much loved during the kinder months Tidal creeks full of memories Recesses in a coast Are often considered coves The war is now over

A small wooden boat Was recently wrecked It lies rotting in the cove War is often kind

The war is over It did not last long As it lacked interest I enjoyed this war

I write I sing I breathe I sleep I create I create many characters My pen is ripe and fecund The other day one of my characters An amazingly beautiful French woman Noted that I did not offer paid holidays Which she thought might be illegal I agreed with her and booked a naturist holiday […]

so easy as easy as rolling down a slope as easy as climbing a tree and perching on a low branch

There is a circus in my cabin Clowns trapeze horses Tigers and Lions My dreams are colourful

I found seven painted stones On a lonely August beach Whilst walking with you Arianne

The sea is within view I can see it in my rear view mirror She walks she has a special walk It is so attractive I can see her from the blue shallows Only liquid diamonds separate us

I have lived in Ibiza for ten years My mother is English my father Spanish I am a mixed media sculptor named Mike Much of my work sells but not all Which can be rather frustrating I share a sandy beach side studio With a blonde artist named Watermelon Who also writes detective novels

I have lived in Ibiza for ten years My mother is English my father Spanish I am an artist and a writer named Watermelon Some of my work sells but not all Which can be rather frustrating I share a sandy beach side studio With a mixed media sculptor named Mike