Author Archives: Malcolm Henshall

Foreign Country?

If only some of the past was a foreign country. Remember that teacher that ridiculed you 60 years ago? The scars as familiar as the London streets you walked back then. No map needed to traverse the route that took … Continue reading

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Choice

‘There’s small choice in rotten apples’, he quoted, as he sank his teeth into the Pink Lady. The sign had declared, ‘Choice Apples’. But why, he thought, as his tongue found the worm hidden within, had he chosen this one. … Continue reading

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FURY

Can you help me? Certainly sir I need something to be furious about Well as you can see on the shelves there’s plenty to choose from, sir. Yes, you always have a good selection at ‘Fury-R-Us’. Let me see, Brexit, … Continue reading

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Edinburgh Fringe August 2019

He was Spanish, the man who served our breakfast. He looked cool, in a cool café. Designer stubble, Baseball hat backwards on his head. We found he was to cycle 500 miles for cancer research The Indian family outside the … Continue reading

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Chocolate Love

Your eyes sparkle like Spangles. When life is anything but a Picnic you are my Turkish Delight. To see you is a Treat. I know some times I come across as a Smartie pants, but you will always Boost my … Continue reading

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Sole Man

I am 45, ride a pushbike, wear a gabardine raincoat, belonged to my Dad, never washed. I live with my mum over the fish and chip shop. Like the batter on the haddock my mother’s love clings to me, dripping … Continue reading

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Just in it for the Parking

I am a man I am a man I am a man born of a woman who was fit and healthy I am a man born of a woman who had an unseen virus I am a man whose father … Continue reading

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You Can’t Judge a Book…

It was one of those strange places where one road full of shabby houses with old bikes, mattresses and empty beer bottles in the gardens, not to mention the St. Georges flag hanging from the window of number 35, ran … Continue reading

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Sanctuary

At my age I should not be ashamed or embarrassed of what I like. There should be no secrets guilty or not. But mine for the sake of this poem is a love for the TV series ‘Nashville’. People might … Continue reading

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