You, only you…

Don’t blame your parents for the way you act;
they gave you a body, now that’s a fact.
Your mind is your own of endless powers.
You’ve been in the making for as long as time,
and if not yet, your time will shine.

Be yourself and don’t be hard;
you are what you are, you have come far.
So shoulders straight and head up high,
don’t be negative say goodbye.

Positive motivation is what you need;
what you become is what you feed.
Live your life with no regrets,
no hard feeling or heated threats.
Let your soul be free
and be happy with loads of glee.

The room

I walk up to the dark wood-stained door of my hotel room and place the key in the worn brass lock; you can hear the pins drop inside the lock as I turn it clockwise.

I push open the door and the hinges creak with a sigh of relief.
The sight of mustard-coloured walls and old wooden furniture greet me as I step on the brown corduroy carpet that could do with a vacuum.
I can hear the light bulb straining trying to stay on; flickering from very-dull to dull.

The reflection of the ‘Le Hotel’ neon sign outside reflects in my wardrobe’s full-length mirror.
On closing the door behind me I place my suitcase on the floral bedspread. I walk up to the window and take a look outside; I see a French baguette walking along eating a man, and a dog riding a bike with a string of onions following behind.

I spot a reflection in the window pane and quickly turn to see a scantilly-dressed maid with a glass of milk; she slowly hands it over and I take a sip.
“The milk is warm,” I say whilst licking the remaining drips from my upper lip.
The maid adjusts her left breast with her wrist in a upward-heaving movement.
“My pleasure!” she says, turning on her heels as she quickly makes her way out of the room as quietly as she entered.
I place the milk down – I don’t quite fancy it now – nor do I want the cheese and crackers she left behind.

I walk into the bathroom and look into the oval mirror and I see a reflection that is not me.

To be continued…

My little room

To celebrate the new bureau in the writing room, where all my inspiration comes from, I just want to say thank you.

Writing room,
yeah writing room,
you give me so much zoom.
You cancel all my gloom
and it all comes from within this room.

My inspiration comes from within your walls;
like the leaves when autumn falls.
You make my blood run cold
when a story of murder unfolds.

I look out your window at the night sky,
then I hit a high with a story about a guy.
There’s nothing special about this guy,
until I finish his profile;
then he’s a spy.

Then when I get writer’s block
your vibes give me such a shock
that I start to think of mister spock!
And then I write a space story that will shock.

The pictures on your dark blue walls
help me think; then a character calls.
The ink in my pen starts to run,
as I write about a dangerous nun.

You are so ace,
you truly are my special place.
If my next book is a boom…
it’s down to you, my writing room.

Pendle witch

Lancaster Castle many years ago,
the court rooms did put on a show.

Up Pendle Hill it was such a hike
to find the tower of Demdike.

Was she a witch?
We’ll never know.
Could she do magic?
Or was it a show?

August 1612 was the day in court,
throwing her life away and held
in the Well Tower for months on end;
sending poor Demdike around the bend.

Her grand-daughter, only nine
had her time to shine.
Jumping on the witness stand
and sending ten to hang.

Pointing the finger at all her clan,
was the court just an almighty sham?
It did not matter that fateful day
for in the end twelve did pay.

Sdrawkacb no seohs

Sdrawkacb no seohs

by Mark Quinn

If I put my shoes on backwards
what would the world be?
Would the world spin opposite to you and me?

If I turned on the switch,
would the light go off?
If I blew my nose,
would it give me a cough?

If I turned on the cold tap,
would hot water flow?
If I dampened somebody’s spirit,
would they then glow?

If I turned off the gas and lit a match,
would it blow?
If I broke my car,
would it then go?

This could happen, its all ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’,
so I’ll keep my shoes on the right way
thank you very much!

Someday we’ll understand


Someday we’ll understand: The story of the Doris Burton fishing trawler is a true story about a fishing trawler that set out into the North Sea in November 1914 and was never heard from again. To this day nobody knows exactly what happened to it._20180712_135001392318849.jpg

I have been working on this story for the last 2 years and I am so proud of how it has turned out.

If you’re intrigued then please go and have a look on Amazon. It is available on Kindle or in paperback, you won’t be disappointed and I would really appreciate your support.

Thank you and happy reading!

I did the garden

Today I did the gardening a different way;
I used a knife and fork to cut down the trees,
and a wooden spoon to support my knees.
I cleaned out the hive for the bumblebees.
I pulled out the weeds with a set of pearl beeds,
then, whilst on my head, I planted more seeds.

I trimmed down the hedge with next door’s dog,
then brushed up the leaves with an old wooden log.
I turned over the soil with a roll of tin foil,
then switched on the kettle and watched it boil.
I had a nice cup of tea whilst sat up a tree.

I told you I did the gardening a different way, I told you so,
I told you today.


As I ate my breakfast this morning I was sat outside in the yarden listening to the sounds of nature and munching on my toast and chickpeas while the sound of gulls filled the sky.
When I was a child you only ever heard that sound by the seaside, now they have come inland, so I started to think, while I had my coffee to drink…

In fifty years from now you will have sparrowgulls,
smaller version of the big seagulls.
If you’re walking outside with a bag of chips,
four or five will come down to attack you,
pecking away at your head and hands.
Years have gone since they looked for crabs in the sand,
pigeons will have fled.
There might even be a comeback for Right Said Fred,
whilst I have sparrowgulls pecking at my head.
You can not go outside without a hat placed on your head,
just in case of a sparrowgull attack.
They will have claws that stick in your back
and more and more people will have heart attacks.

I ask you all, what is worse…
a sparrowgull on your head or a comeback from Right Said Fred?

Positive man



The positive man stands tall,
he will not fall,
he takes the right steps and makes the right moves;
yes that is the positive man.

The negative man is yesterday’s man,
not in the mood,
doesn’t want to move;
yes that is the negative man.

The positive man gets the early worm,
makes the right choice
and scores his goal then cheers with delight.

The negative man walks in a slump,
looks down to the floor and cannot score,
he hits the post then falls to his knees.

The positive man can see ahead,
he has a plan in his head.
He writes his goals down in his pad
and yes, he can be sad,
but the positive man loves to live
and will give all to make his mark.

The negative sees no path ahead,
and his goals are rattling about in his head;
and when he is sad, he makes it worse
and can see no point in the universe.