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TEARS - A wedding poem

TEARS A poem written for my niece for a reading on her wedding day I dreamed about a dream I had  In which I stood so close to you  I spoke the words that were meant for you  And meant those words I said to you  I thought the thoughts I felt for you  And felt the love I had for you  The tears I felt, I shed for you  they showed my depth of love for you Yesterday, I dreamed the dream again  Standing, speaking, shedding tears for you  I hoped, I prayed, to be with you  To share my life and love with you  The life I want to have with you  To grow, to build, get old with you  A life to give and care for you  Where days are warm, and full of you Today, the dream I dreamed came true The words I’d say, I’ve said to you  The love I’d feel, I’ve felt for you The tears I’d cry, I’ve shed for you   I’ve danced, I’ve drunk, I’ve laughed with you  Said cheers to a world so filled by you  And dreamed the li...
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SOME WILL DIE - IS PUBLISHED

MY LATEST BOOK, SOME WILL DIE, HAS BEEN PUBLISHED A  killer creeps  in through a downstairs window and comes out rolled up in a  blood-soaked  carpet.     After further shootings it becomes obvious more is at stake than a simple murder putting an agreement between two London crime factions under pressure. A delicate status quo is  shattering  and a gang war seems inevitable.     Who arranged the hit? Why are bodies piling up? The crime gangs suspect each other causing the rift to widen but as Dave Simmons  investigates  he  identifies  potential  new players  creating a completely different scenario that puts his life in deadly peril.     With the hitman still at large, two crime organisations tooling, deceit and betrayal causing confusion can Dave solve the mystery while at the same time preventing London erupting into violent gang warfare?     A gripping crime drama that will raise ques...
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WHAT I LIKE TO DO

A Monday afternoon in ‘66 was when I discovered the meaning of what I  actually liked  to do. I remember the day well. Just one lecture that day so college ended early. Early enough for me to head to the driving range and collect a few buckets of balls before I headed home. You see, the range was new and had no collection tractor so for ten minutes every hour the bays closed for ball pick-up. Then the sprint began, something I had well and truly sussed. In ten  minutes,  I could collect six buckets. Do that twic e and  I’d  earn a crisp  one-pound  note. Brilliant for only twenty minute’s work.
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A Bucket Full of Colours

Monday morning and it is sunny but cool. Delany Quick exuberantly placed the empty cappuccino cup on the counter of the walk-in coffee shop, exaggeratedly but unnecessarily pushed his long black hair away from his face and looked the server firmly in the eye. His dark almost black eyes penetrated but at the same time displayed a humorous twinkle that softened what might have been a most disconcerting stare.    In reply to her question, he said firmly with a sudden, jaunty smile, “ W hat I do madam is sell magic. Delaney Quick at your service. Purveyor of fine magic sparks.”
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DOUBLE SWITCH - Reviews

LATEST REVIEW OF MY BOOK DOUBLE SWITCH 5.0 out of 5 stars Quirky, fun and different... Reviewed in the United Kingdom on 18 February 2026 Format: Kindle Edition Martin Dixon was unknown to me just a couple of weeks ago... Now I have read everything I can find by him and thoroughly enjoyed it.... A master of twisting tales, humour and baddies who do good things mixed with goodies who do bad things. A million miles away from regular whodunnits and the cops always getting their man. A thoroughly enjoyable romp through London neighbourhoods and fabulous character back stories that make it all seem very real. 10 out of 10. CLICK, DOUBLE SWITCH , TO SEE MORE AND BUY 
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DITHERING

From the position of my  motorbike,  I could see down the street opposite the junction. The queue now stretched way down, a long distance past the church where a buzzing throng of new hats, best suits and shiny shoes had assembled in anticipation. Standing in a huddle in front of the lychgate I could make out four guys wearing the same outfits looking particularly stressed. One glanced right, along the line of stalled traffic. He could see  maybe one  hundred yards then a sharp bend shut out the chaos. Checking h is  watch,  he said something to one of the others who pulled out what I assumed was a phone.  
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FOG IN A PLACE OF REST

Even though the company had been boisterous the pub lacked any sort of empathy so after a couple of stiff ultra-dry martinis,  probably the  worst drink considering my problems, I slipped away with the intention of walking the couple of miles home. Craving the panacea of a few deep lungs full of salty ozone filled air I took the scenic route hoping the  great view  would lift my spirits.     Climbing the cliff path and struggling for breath I stopped to rest at the highest point on the slats of  Garath  Dobb’s bench. It had been a while since  I’d  taken this route so I had no idea who the guy was or anything about  him  but I did notice the absence of  Verdigris  on the copper plaque screwed onto the pristine varnish of the back support.    Maybe a  hundred yards offshore the silhouette of the car ferry slowly ploughed through flat waters, barely visible with the sun a mere lighter outline hanging low ...
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