My new book “Vega – The Vampire King”, coming soon…

My Poem “I love books”

I love that books are still being written…
I love that books are still being read…
I love that books are still being listen to
while people are driving,
while people are walking,
while people are sitting in a chair,
or while people are lying down in bed…
I love that books are still physical objects
that people from all ages can hold,
feel, and marvel at the art of
as they flick through their pages…
I love that books are still filled with stories
of characters that do not always have
an accurate description of how they
talk or how they look,
so undividual readers have the gift
of being able to imagine what characters
sound like when talk as well as
paint their own picture in their mind
of how certain characters appear…
one of the things that I love
about the act of reading, as well as
the art of coming up with a brand new story,
is the power that people have
to be able to generate figments
of their own imagination that are
reconstitutions of the familiar,
the recognisable, the known,
the big, the small, the significant,
and the things from our memories
that mesmerise us,
as well as so much more –
but, to me, it is the magic of words
that lies at the heart of why
I will always love books.

My Poem “Music/Food”

Just like the ingredients
that all combine to make
a meal look, smell, and taste
the way that it is supposed to,
a piece of music or a song
is also a multi-layered mixture
of individual components
that all harmonize to become
something greater that the sum of their parts –
as they are played by those players
capable of synchronising the gift within them
with the instruments that they have at their disposal…
the art of making a melody of music
that has a distinctive voice of its own,
that is immediately recognisable,
even after the first morsel
of ear candy has been heard,
is exactly like the signature of a dish
prepared by someone for
breakfast, lunch, or dinner –
because food, like music,
leaves an indelible imprint on all of us
that is always profoundly memorable.

Both food and music are both a key
as well as a gateway to memories
and experiences that may have become
compartmentalised by us over time –
but there is no denying how both
a song, and perhaps something
that you may not have tasted for years,
can have the instant power
to turn the gears of our minds
back to a particular place and a time…
food is sustenance for the body,
music is sustenance for the mind –
and when combined together,
while dining within a restaurant
or in a cafe, there is no estimating
the flood of endorphins that can rise
within our thoughts which can drive our emotions
in ways akin to a tsunami of waves
that have the ability to resurface
moments of merriment so meaningful to us
that they can make lost artifacts
of our consciousness once again easy to find.

Both eating food and listening to music,
to some people, can be like having
a spiritual experience that feeds
and rejuvenates something within them
that goes beyond the physical and the biological…
consuming certain legal stimulants,
such as chocolate or caffeine,
that have the ability to influence
the speed that our heart beats
and the way that we feel,
can affect us in the same way that music
can make us all involuntarily
raise our arms, close our eyes,
move our feet and dance around a room –
especially if the song that we hear
is one of our favourite tunes
that always has the effect of making us move
as if we are being compelled by a spirit
that we never want to be free of
that always takes us all to a place that feels
out of this world and utterly phenomenonal.

My Poem “A Garden to Call Our Own”

There is no place in this world
more tranquil than a garden filled
with calmness and colour
that symbolises nature at it’s most wild
as well as at its most beautiful…
there is no place of serenity
and rejuvenation for both the mind
and the soul, that is home to birds,
to insects and to animals big and small,
than the place that people sit in,
look at, breath in, and marvel at
all of the infinite wonders that all have
their own uniquely individual details.


There is no other place that people
get to inherit, but also get the opportunity
to make their own, than the place
that changes over the course of its life
along with the seasons that has this power
to be able to remind us all of times gone by…
there is no place of sunlight
and shadow that shows visitors
of our humble abodes who we are
and what means the most to us
than the place that we see almost
every day that if we are lucky
is an oasis of perfection as well as
protection in our minds eye.


There is no place for people with
“green fingers” who enjoy planting,
watering, watching, and tending to
the plants that they sow and see
start out as a seed and then over time
grow just as substantially above the surface
of the Earth that they are planted into
as they do below the ground
whilst creating a vast network of complex roots…
there is no other place that people
can spend hours within and never stop
feeling as if they are truly at home
than that patch of land that they feel belongs to them,
where they can do whatever we want to do,
wherever and whenever we want to do it,
than that special place to us
that may be as big as a park
or a small as a window box,
but nevertheless is a garden
that we can all call our own.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! 🙂💚🍀☘

This is my poem “Happy Saint Patrick’s Day” that I wrote for St. Patrick’s Day back in 2019. Enjoy! And have a good day! 🙂💚🍀☘

Cheers, everybody!
Today is the day!
Today is Saint Patrick’s Day –
and some of the best ways
that you may wish to choose
to remember and to pay tribute to
the fifth century patron Saint of Ireland
might be to wear something green,
to find yourself a shamrock,
to venture into a town or a city
and enjoy a Saint Patrick’s Day parade,
or to visit an Irish bar
and consume a dark and heavy
pint of Guinness, perhaps?

A shamrock has always been closely associated
with Saint Patrick, and also with luck –
and it is sometimes claimed that
Saint Patrick used the three-leafed shamrock
as a way to teach people about the holy trinity
at the centre of Christianity –
the father, the son, and the holy ghost –
and of course the shamrock has long
been thought of and considered a symbol of
the regenerative power of nature
and it’s indomitable resilience.

There are many legends and traditions
that surround Saint Patrick, his life,
and his importance in Irish history
and culture, that have spread
and are well known all around the world –
and every year people gather together,
they wear green, they maybe drink some Irish ale,
they feast, they sing, they dance,
they embrace the gifts that
the island of Ireland has given us,
and people remember the apostle of Ireland,
Saint Patrick, on the day of his death,
and they pay tribute in their own way
to the great missionary and man of the people,
who may have been born in Roman Britain
but who will always be considered
Ireland’s most famous Irishman.

So, find yourself a shamrock,
wear something green, eat, drink,
be merry, and remember Saint Patrick
today, March the 17th, and have a
Happy Saint Patrick’s Day, everybody!

Happy Birthday to “The Wolf In Me”

It’s been four years since my first novel “The Wolf In Me” was published! Wow! I can’t believe how time moves so fast! “The Wolf In Me” was my first book to feature my character Olivia Hunter, which I subsequently wrote a sequel to and got published via my great publisher Zeloo Media, in 2019 called “The Wolf In You”.

I consider both “The Wolf In Me” and “The Wolf In You” as Volume One and Volume Two in the extraordinary and supernatural story of Olivia Hunter and I still love and look back fondly on the journey of discovery that I took with the character of Olivia Hunter in both of those books.

Happy Birthday to “The Wolf In Me”! 😊🐺📖📚✒📝

My Poem “To my Mum”

To the woman who from the day that
I was born has given me the gift
of unconditional love…
to the woman who carried me,
who has held me, who has thought about me,
and who has been there for me my entire life –
no matter what you have have been going through:
I have always felt blessed that
you are my kind and caring Mum
and I am your adoring son.

To the woman whose smile
has made me smile more times
throughout my life than I can count:
you have been the best example
of who and what a mother should be,
and those of us who are your children
every day consider ourselves lucky
to have a part of you in us
and to have a part of us in you-
because you are a role-model
for being a mother like nobody else…
to the woman who has sent her children
off to sleep every night with
a blessing of sweet dreams:
you do not know how much
what you do matters, nor what your
effortless love has always meant
and what your love will always mean.

To the woman who gave birth to me…
to the woman who has always
accepted me for who I am and who has
always praised me for what I do…
to the woman who has always given me what I needed more than anything in the world…
to the woman who I could not thank enough
for being amazing in every way –
this poem is dedicated to you:
Bernadette Marie Christine Hastings,
my one and only, my one of a kind,
the best in the world, Mum.

Happy Mother’s Day! 🙂

My Poem “The Tough Stuff”

When people are surrounded
by artificial light, by heat, and by order
it can be hard to imagine what it was like
for the first generation of human explorers,
who originally began as one diverse group,
who then went their separate ways
to discover and to understand more
about what and who makes the world
the way that it is, as well as populate
the vastly different regions that
our planet is known for the have to be
adapted to living in in many different ways.

The first people didn’t have clothes…
the first people didn’t have maps…
the first people didn’t even have
wooden built houses to call homes…
the first people didn’t even have maths –
but what the first people had,
and what sustained them,
were dreams, inspiration, ideas,
and from the moment that they harnessed
to ability to willingly create fire
they gave themselves the gift to be able
to see and to travel during the night,
to cook their own meals, and to be entranced
by the dancing flames of glowing light.

The first men and women who
embarked upon their journey of fate
to go to places they knew not where
saw things that they could only
conceptualise by capturing their depictions
of them in cave paintings and in legends
that have endured for thousands of years.

The first of us were the first to feel the spark of love…
they were the first of us to feel the passion of life…
they were the first of us to look up at the sky
and wonder about our place in the cosmos,
surrounded by an infinite number of stars,
and question why any of us are here…
they were the first of us to be brave enough
to bring people together to create
entire civilizations who thrived for a time
and who had to go through
more than anybody alive today could ever imagine.

We who are alive today are
who we are, with what we have,
because our ancestors were more
than even they knew that they were at the time –
but one thing that our ancestors knew well
was that in life what everybody
and what everything sometimes needs
more than anything is each other,
and also the knowledge that by
working together anybody can
get through anything, even the tough stuff.

My Poem “Sunbeam”

The afternoon light of the sun
shone down upon me
as I sat looking out of the window
at the world going by,
and just as I began to close my eyes
and I let out a deep sigh
I felt this instant rise of inspiration
and exhilaration that caused my heart to beat fast,
my thoughts to become enlivened,
and my imagination to become enlightened.

I felt like a flower that unfurls its petals
at the beginning of the day
as soon as they are touched
by the energy of the sun’s rays…
I didn’t know how much I needed
the gift that the sun bestowed upon me
until I was sitting there
and my poetic soul was reawakened.

There are moments when even
the most hopeful of humanity
feel low on inspiration,
weighed down by emotion,
and even lost and bereft of love –
but then a stream of light
that had to travel from 93 million miles away
arrives and gives a new burst of life
and reignites the overactive thoughts
of someone with a kaleidoscope of dreams
like that of the spectrum of colour
found within a sunbeam.

My Poem “That which matters most”

Out of sight does not always mean out of mind…
sometimes it can be those people
who we do not get to see all the time,
because they live so far away,
who can be everything that we think about
and dream about every minute of every day…
sometimes it can be the people
who we do not talk to for days, weeks, months,
or even years who regularly to show up
in our thoughts like a reflection in a mirror –
and even though things may no longer
be as they were the history of everybody
is filled with moments when we all
learn what comes naturally
and what in life we sometimes need to earn.

It is so easy to lose things in life…
it is so easy to lose people in life…
it is so easy to lose perspective –
which is why sometimes we all need
to fight to understand what went wrong
as well as what went right…
it is so easy for us all to lose time –
which is why we all need to make
every second count and make every word
that we speak last like the legacy
of a light that we may only see
when the sky is as dark as night.

Things can sometimes be hard to handle…
situations can at times be hard to deal with…
feelings and emotions can often
be hard to carry around with you
while you are still attempting to act
as if everything is fine –
because the light that you live by
can at times feel as temporary
as that of the flame of a candle.

Life is my favourite thing about the universe,
because as someone once said:
“where there is life there is hope” –
and while I live and breathe I will always believe
that having the gift to wake up
and gaze at the beauty of the world
and wonder about who and what
makes it work, and why,
is what gives every day its meaning –
because the truth is that meaning
is what gives everything and everyone
that which matters most.