Bang Up


Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang,

Relentless, fruitless, desperate, protest or plea?

Wonder how many blows you have taken;

to craft that shellac suit around your spirit.

A secret life story even you will not now know;

People have seen you as the gangster not the beaten child.

Too many scars by your hands on bodies and souls;

The patience of saints all but exhausted.

Beating at the cell door and baiting of the staff;

This is sport, distraction from thoughts of any tomorrow.

This isn’t personal, well not normally, sorry Guv;

But you get to touch another, to feel, even if in pain.

At the darkest hour there might be a cut or perhaps a knot;

A rumble of boots, then lights, camera and action.

Strangers fighting for life, squelching in your blood;

When you wake it is not just another day, it is opportunity.

You can bang the door but the silence would be noticed more.


Dean Reeves


My Poetry

Ghost Tree

The First Fen Blow

You should look away

I have not woken 

Bottled Love

War end

A lover’s touch


Beauty of her nature 

Fierce Love

The Rat

My Moody Girl

We have met before…

You are….

Looking Up


Stare of the Moon

Holding the thread


Stone cold love

The imps are feasting

I am more than a tree

Wisbech Morning

The bleeding fields of Naseby

I did not cry

We are England

Curtain Call

Do not pity the English

Turning Left

Prosperity of Evil

Bang Up

“The Return of Black Shuck”

“I saw You” by Dean Reeves

“Bring the wind” by Dean Reeves

“I choose” by Dean Reeves

“Forgotten Dancer” by Dean Reeves

“Market Day” by Dean Reeves




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