Friday, 22 July 2022



The Rainbow King is a small, stout fellow,
With a rainbow coloured suit.
He wears a crown and holds a sceptre,
And there are wings on either boot.

Whenever it rains, and the sun is out,
You can see him jump for joy.
Rising up into the sky,
A delight for girl or boy.

His little legs run through the air,
Forming the rainbow's arc.
He clearly is having so much fun,
To him it is a lark.

The colours of his suit spill out,
And colours the sky around.
And once the rainbow has been formed,
He returns to Earthly ground.

And there where the rainbow finally ends,
I've often heard it told.
The rainbow king leaves a gift,
A pot of rainbow gold.

Friday, 3 June 2022

A Tribute to The Hobbit by J R R Tolkien


In the darkness of the cave,
He found the precious jewel.
He announced the jewel proclaimed him King,
And gave him the right to rule.

Man and Elf, among them Kings,
Would come to see the gem.
And Thrain upon his mighty throne,
Lorded, over them.

The Dwarf King soon was driven mad,
By the gold he hoarded there.
And one who craved it even more,
Was waiting in his lair.

Smaug would soon destroy the town,
That lay beneath the cave.
And once inside the Dwarf King's realm,
No treasure could be saved.

The Dwarves beneath the mountain,
Fled to roam the land.
Until the mighty battle,
When the pale Orc lost his hand.

But in that mighty battle,
The Dwarf King lost his life.
His Kith and kin were left to live,
A life of fear and strife.

But there was one among the few,
Who had the courage to lead.
Thorin would soon have the map and key,
And the warriors he would need.

Wizard and Hobbit would join the cause,
And help them on their way.
To banish the dragon and reclaim their home,
And find where the Arkenstone lay.

But the quest was hard and many died,
In the battles that ensued.
And Thorin too was driven mad,
By the greed that he imbued.

But in the end as Thorin died,
He knew that he had won.
For the pale Orc lay beside him dead,
The final deed was done.

Thursday, 2 June 2022

Queen Elizabeth ll


From the pageantry of  Trooping the Colour,
To the parties in the street 
From Land's End to John O'Groats,
They all merge on The Mall.

From all points of the Commonwealth,
And countries far afield.
They all have come to pay their homage,
To Britain's guiding light.

The glue that binds, the light that leads,
Our constant in this world.
The one that we all look up to,
The strength that guides us all.

With dignity and strength of character,
Her flawless leadership.
With sense of duty beyond reproach,
Carried out relentlessly.

And so, we all will play our part,
In honouring her reign.
With beacons lit around the world,
To light the way ahead.

Seventy years of duty,
A celebration of dignity.
So let us all now raise a glass,
To Britain's guiding light.

Wednesday, 1 June 2022


 Take the time to stop and breathe,

Take the time to live.

Take the time to please yourself,

And the ones that you are with.

Take the time to find yourself,

To be who you should be.

Take the time to understand,

There is no certainty.

Life is what we make of it,

It's there for us to mould.

Do not leave it far too late,

When you are far too old.

Enjoy the time, no matter what,

Make the most of it.

For all of us are only here,

From birth until exit.

Take the time to be sincere,

To be honest with yourself.

Take the time to nurture you,

It's your life, your mind, your health.

Saturday, 12 March 2022



A land of forty million.

A land of wheat and grain.

A land of many heroes,

A land that's called Ukraine.

A Land that's fighting for its life,

for its right to even exist.

A land that's called Ukraine,

A land that will resist.

With Russian boots upon its soil,

And Russian planes above.

Russian tanks surrounding cities,

Destroying the land that Ukrainians love.

But this is a land of strength and guts,

A land where hope remains.

A land of many heroes,

A land that's called Ukraine.

Thursday, 16 September 2021




Summer seems to be over before it's even begun.

Everyday I wonder, where oh where's the Sun.

Where is the warmth and the sunlight, that helps the garden grow.

Bringing forth the harvest, from the seeds we sow.

Every season has its time, and time will have its way.

Nights are getting longer, shorter is the day.

But Winter brings its promise, of days still yet to come.

And a time for nurturing, when Spring has finally sprung.

Thursday, 24 June 2021

A Thought For The Day


Whilst you are spending time worrying about tomorrow,
You are missing out on living today! 

Monday, 6 July 2020



Now that the lockdown is over,
Now I can leave my home.
Now that the borders are open,
Now I can finally roam.

Now that the pubs are open,
Cinemas and restaurants too,
Shops and hairdressers are calling,
There's so much for me to do.

Overhead there are planes,
As there was once before.
Ready to take me,
To a far away shore.

But will I be tempted,
To pack and to go?
Until I'm sure of my safety,
The answer is no!

Thursday, 2 July 2020


 The Pepper Picker

A perfect pepper picker

Picked a perfect pepper.

A perfect pepper, did

A perfect picker pick.

Sunday, 22 March 2020



No measure can be put upon, the joy a garden brings,
To see life start anew, when winter turns to spring.
The bulbs beneath the frosted earth, burst forth from winter's slumber,
To display a fine array, colours too great to number.

Spring days are for nurturing, for tending to the young,
For planning for the future, when all bird songs are sung.
When hard work and dedication, begin to bear you fruit,
When you can rest in summertime, content and absolute.

Content in the knowledge that your work, has brought joy and happiness,
As you wander through your garden, spreading love and tenderness.
To all there comes a wintertime, when alas life fades away,
But be reassured in the knowledge, Spring will return one day.


Wednesday, 6 June 2018


A word from the author.

The Defence and National Rehabilitation Centre (the recently ran a poetry competition to honour those affected by conflict. Although, not one of the five shortlisted, below is my entry into that competition.

Robert M Lidster

The Journey (a Soldier's tale)

When the journey is over, we lay on our beds

and think of the day yet to dawn.

Like the stories our mothers and fathers have told us,

and the legends that were old before we were born.

Since even before the time we remember,

we had only one common goal.

To be like explorers in legend and myth,

or to just get away from it all.

Now we are fighting for freedom, for Queen and for country,

democracy must reign supreme.

For we liberate nations once condemned to dictation,

and find that it's all been a dream, it's not what it seems.

Children are crying, mothers are lost,

fathers have died in the war.

And as politicians argue over the cost,

the people are saying, no more!

Still we go fighting for freedom, for Queen and for country,

democracy must reign supreme.

For we liberate nations once condemned to dictation,

and find that it's all been a dream, it's not what it seems.

When the journey is over, we lay on our beds,

and think of the day yet to dawn.

Monday, 11 January 2016



Where's my crown?”

Cried the King in dismay.

He was still in his bed

In the middle of the day.

Where's my crown?”

He cried once again.

Here it is” said the Queen,

Who'd been up since ten.

I took it to the cleaners

As it was looking rather grubby,

Only the best is good enough

For my discerning hubby”.

But what the King didn't know

And was unlikely to guess,

Was that his crown had been stolen,

Well, more or less!

The crown now presented

By the Queen, to the King.

Was only a copy,

A fake, a forgery.

For the Queen, who owed money

To some people she knew.

Had sold all the jewels

To pay what was due.

A fake crown she had bought,

To fool the poor King.

Who wasn't too bright,

And suspected nothing.

Right there and then,

He put the crown on his head.

He looked pretty regal,

For a person in bed.

Now bring me my breakfast,

'tho it's past twelve o'clock.

Bacon and tomatoes,

And an egg from the cock!”

Surely my darling,

You must be confused”.

Said the Queen to her husband,

Who looked somewhat bemused.

Cocks can't lay eggs,

For they come from a Hen”.

But the King just shouted

For his breakfast again.

Once the King had eaten,

And his plate was quite clear.

He summoned his wife

To sit very near.

My dear”, he announced.

I've done a bad deed,

And I have to confess,

It was done out of greed”.

To pay for my lifestyle,

And the things that I crave.

I've sold all the treasure,

there's not a penny to save”.

All I have left,

Is this crown on my head.

It's a poor man you see,

Who lays in this bed”.

I will sell my crown,

And buy you all you desire.

For you have stood by me,

But why do you cry?”

The Queen was now weeping.

Knowing what she had done.

The King knew he had little,

In fact, he had none.

So there they both lay,

Each with their own guilt.

Feeling sorry for each other,

As they lay 'neath the quilt.

Through greed and deception,

They had lost everything.

With a fake crown on his head,

He looked a sorry old King.

So a word of warning,

Goes out to the wise.

Be honest, be prudent,

And never tell lies.

Tuesday, 5 January 2016

A 100 Word Story


I saw her again today, she was kneeling by the door,

with scrubbing brush, she toiled away, her hands were red and raw.

She scrubbed to cleanse the blood red stain, there was sweat upon her brow.

I've seen her there so many times, but I do not see her now.

Is she real or just a dream, is she from my time?

All I know is when I pass, a chill runs up my spine.

Could it be she is a ghost, a memory of the past?

Always looking the same to me, just as I saw her last.

Tuesday, 20 January 2015


There are many forms of poetry, one that I only recently came across is called a Fib. In this form of poetry the total number of syllables in any given line must be the total number of syllables in the previous two lines. Below is my first attempt at a Fib.

I enjoy it so
Much more than you could ever know.  

Saturday, 9 August 2014


This is me with my winning entry in the Waitrose Year of Poetry competition. I am pictured in the Colchester branch of Waitrose. Here is that Poem:


A strange flower is the cauliflower
I've yet to see one bloom,
It's not the sort of flower
To decorate a room.
No fragrant scent to smell,
Or coloured petals that please.
But it's the only kind of flower
That's delicious to eat with cheese

Sunday, 29 December 2013


A message from the author.
The following letter is not poetry, not in any recognisable form anyway. I wrote this letter one night whilst deep in thought about life, and stuff! I feel that what I am expressing is, probably, what many others think and feel. I don't expect a reply anytime soon but who knows!


OK, so you don't hear from me too often, and I'm seldom seen in church, mainly funerals, weddings and the occasional baptism. I know what you are thinking! " He doesn't even believe in me".
Well it's true, I do struggle with the concept of a higher being, one that not only created all of the heavens and earth, but is also responsible for everything in it, and everything that happens on it. I suppose my problem is that I have a very logical brain, one that sees a problem, and then tries to solve it. The thing is, there is no explanation for a God, the whole concept is frankly, unbelievable!
I can understand the science of creation, how gases and liquids formed, and how out of that mixture came primitive life. I can understand how over time that primitive life evolved into what we have today. But to believe that one being is responsible for all that, just makes me pose the question "If God created the Earth, who created God?"
Anyway, getting back to why I decided to write to you. Even though I struggle with the religious side of things, I do however, consider myself to be a good Christian. That is to say, I try to live an honest life, faithful to my wife, loyal to friends and family, putting other people first, and helping others, when I can. Surely, that is what counts in life, isn't it?
Don't get me wrong, I really hope that I am proved wrong, and that there is some kind of Utopia up there in the heavens. Somewhere we are all united with loved ones, and can live in peace and happiness for all eternity. I just find it hard to believe, surely, you won't hold that against me when my time comes, will you?
Isn't a non believer who has lived a good life, more worthy of a place in Heaven, than a believer who has committed unthinkable sins? I guess it's one of those things that we won't know the answer to, until it's too late. In the meantime I will continue to try and live my life the best way I can and hope that, if you do exist, you will understand.
Yours Faithfully
Robert M Lidster
P.S. Please feel free to answer, anyway you deem fit. 

Friday, 28 September 2012


I have been writing since my school days and the earliest example of my poetry which is still in existance, is a poem entitled "The Wind" which I wrote when I was twelve and had published in an anthology of Poets when I was eighteen.

Along with my poetry, I started to write songs and in 1983 at the age of 25, I published my own book of song lyrics and poetry. It was a limited edition of 500, the book was  "A Handful of Songs and Poems" and was a 32 page paper back.

Since then I have continued to write and have had many poems and short stories published over the years. More recently I have been writing travel reviews (many of which can be seen on my blog)

If anyone is interested in purchasing mint, signed copies of "A Handful of Songs and Poems", I do have a number of copies available at a cost of £2.50 inc. p&p. (UK only). Please send requests by email to:

The book is also available for download to Kindle and PC from Amazon:

Thursday, 27 September 2012

Now On Kindle

I have now released my 1983 collection of poetry and song lyrics on Amazon Kindle. UK price 75p + VAT. The link is:


"A Handful of Songs & Poems" by Robert M Lidster is now available free on Kindle to anyone with a Amazon Prime Membership through the Kindle Owners Lending Library. Visit  for details.

Wednesday, 26 September 2012

'Life's A Mini-Saga' Now Available on Amazon Kindle

‘Life’s A Mini-Saga’ is a collection of short stories, very short stories. Each story is exactly fifty words long. Robert Lidster first started to write this type of story back in 1985 but this is the first time any have been published.

The 79 Mini-Sagas’ included in this book vary in style and content in order to appeal to a wide audience. The reader will find some humorous, some sad, some mysterious, but hopefully all entertaining.

The book is written with the intention to be read at ‘odd moments of the day’, to be browsed whenever the mood takes you. Little snippets of stories that the reader can expand with the use of their own imagination.

‘Life’s A Mini-Saga’ is the third book to be published by Robert Lidster on Kindle, previous books are: ‘In My Father’s Footsteps’ and ‘A Handful of Songs & Poems’.

For More Information, Please Visit and search Robert Lidster under Kindle Books.

Tuesday, 25 September 2012


"To be or not to be, that is the question"
Reginald sat down on the edge of the stage,
looking out at the empty theatre,
not one person present to witness his
magnificent delivery.
With a sigh of frustration he rises
and picking up his broom,
returns to his duties.

Note from the Author:
The above ("To be or not to be") is an example of a mini saga, the idea is to tell a story in exactly 50 words (not 49, not 51 but exactly 50). The story should as with any story have a beginning, a middle and an end. The aim is to put a picture in the mind of the reader and leave them feeling that they know much more of the story than you have told them.

 I have recently published a collection of my mini sagas 'Life is a Mini-Saga' which is available on Amazon Kindle along with my two other books "In My Father's Footsteps" and "A Handful of Songs & Poems".




Breakfast in bed,

Whilst tied up in port.

A Leisurely stroll,

Souvenirs to be bought.

Seeing the sights

Changing each day.

Meeting the locals,

Life lived in a different way.

Sun on my back,

Feel the warmth of the day.

Sailing the seas,

Refreshed by the spray.

Watch the horizon,

For the next port of call.

Eating fine food,

Oh! The joy of it all.

Dressing for dinner

Can be such fun.

Watching the shows,

Second to none.

Relaxing in bars,

Or down by the pool.

Dancing in nightclubs,

Try to look cool!

Meeting new friends,

Seeing new sights.

Everyday brings

Another delight.

Sleep well in beds,

Made for comfort and style.

Experience the spa,

Just relax for a while.

Learn about life,

In far away places.

Meet folk that differ,

From the usual faces.

Live life to the full,

Enjoy whilst you may.

Let the perfect cruise

Soothe any troubles away

Sunday, 20 May 2012


Each journey starts with just one step,
one step, and then another.
Our world is full of wonderment,
with so much to discover.

The joy of a discovery,
of finding something new,
exploring new horizons,
or simply finding you.

We take so much for granted,
with regrets along the way.
Each day's a new beginning,
make of it what you may.

And when the journey's over,
and the last step has long gone,
be content with your achievement's,
and the journey you've been on.

Sunday, 23 October 2011


Pillows of concrete, blankets of sky.

Fitful sleeping as life tip toes by.

Meagre handouts paid for dinner tonight,

Some soup and a roll, a feast? Not quite.

Morning comes early, before you are rested,

Woken by footsteps, your existence detested

By those who are going about their own business,

Closing those deals that will make them their riches.

Little and plenty side by side on the street,

Both breath the same air, same dirt on their feet.

Both born of this world of woman and man,

All born to be equal, well that was the plan.

And as the haves and have not’s bed down for the night,

For some feather duvets will be a most welcome sight.

But for some far less lucky I’m afraid it’s no lie,

There’ll be pillows of concrete and blankets of sky.

Saturday, 22 October 2011


A raindrop falls from a rosebush,

Like a tear from a young girls eye.

The wind blows through the Elm trees,

Sounding like a lovers sigh.

I tread carefully on the melting snow,

A white blanket on the ground.

Slowly the blanket is drawn back,

Slowly, without sound.

The sun is rising in the east,

Throwing light on this winters morn.

There is nothing quite as beautiful

As a winters dawn.

Now in the full glare of daylight,

I see this winters scene,

In all its magnificent glory

It’s as if I’m in a dream.

Be it dream or reality,

It’s a beautiful sight to see.

And one that will forever bring,

Endless joy to me.


They sit on park benches;

Their minds are a maze,

Of remembered occasions

And better off days.

Their home is a bag

Which lays at their feet,

Their only sustenance

Is gleaned from the street.

Relying on refuse bins

Or gracious handouts,

The dregs of society,

Vagrants, tramps, layabouts?

They solicit from need

Rather than greed,

For the price of a cup

Of steaming hot tea.

And as you reach in your pocket,

They’ll smile with content.

You walk away happy,

Your money well spent.

Will our streets ever be

Free from the sight,

Of warn out citizens

Who tour in the night?

They know every inch

Of their chosen locale,

Be it the park of Saint James

Or even The Mall.

They walk without reason,

Their lives have no rhyme.

The dregs of society

Are societies crime.


She’s a beautiful boat,

What is her name?

I see you’ve had some trouble,

Well isn’t that a shame.

You say you hit another ship

Whilst sailing out of port.

And the other ship sank,

Well I never would have thought!

Interested in buying?

Oh no, not me.

I’m afraid that I feel sick

Just looking at the sea.

Still she is a beautiful boat

And sailing would be nice,

I suppose I could think about it.

What’s the asking price?

Wednesday, 16 March 2011


Good evening ladies and gentlemen,
As you know I’m not one for a speech!
Can you hear me alright at the back?
This damn microphone lead won’t reach.

We hired a P.A. for the disco,
But the lead won’t reach over here.
So I’ll shout as loud as I can,
In between sups of beer.

Well, all in all it was a good turnout,
It would have been nice, but for the rain.
The wind blew off the Grooms top hat
And the Best Man dropped the ring down a drain.

But thanks to a passing Policeman,
We managed to retrieve it in time,
But that’s when we noticed our bloomer,
We’d left the Bridesmaids behind.

The Vicar dear chap was quite patient
And performed with a thespians ease,
He’s here tonight at the reception,
So Mother, mind your language please!

Didn’t the page boys look lovely?
And the Bridesmaids a sight to behold.
The photographer’s sorry he left early,
But he got fed up, waiting out in the cold.

Still I’ve brought my Kodak Instamatic
And I’ll be doing the rounds in a while,
To capture this momentous occasion,
So please, all try to smile.

Well thanks for the cards and the presents.
Along with the telegrams.
The Best Man will read them out in a minute,
He’s better at it, than I am.

As I said at the beginning,
I’m not one for a speech,
So here’s to the happy couple,
Good health to one and each.

Tuesday, 15 March 2011


Now that the party is over, now the Christmas pud is all gone,
Now the crackers are pulled and every carol is sung.
Now as we sit within our chairs, our bellies much enlarged,
Let's spare a thought for our friend, the flexi credit card.

The spending spree that heralds Christmas, a must for all mankind,
Would be over sooner, if we paid at the purchase time.
It's easier to overspend when the last thing on your mind,
Is "How will I pay for this?", or something of that kind.

Now the party is over, it's time to face the band,
I could kick myself severely, for spending out of hand.
The banks are thoughtful, they'll never drop you in it,
If you overspend and need more, they'll simply increase your limit.

Beware the perils of spending, money that just aint yours.
Next time Christmas comes knocking, lock yourself indoors.
Do not join the crowds that mingle in the street,
In and out of high street shops, so nimble on their feet.

Eagar to spend the money, the banks so kindly lend,
Only one thing on their minds, spend, spend, spend.
Buying tat that no one wants, that no man should desire,
Another Christmas on credit? now that would be bizarre.