Over a two year period in the Swinging Sixties it seemed a serial killer was on the loose in London. At least six women and possibly eight were callously murdered seemingly by the same killer and, to this day, nobody has been arrested for the crime.

It must be every parent’s nightmare – their cherished teenage son is tried and convicted of murder. Back in 1921 Harold Jones was a 15 year old, hard working shop assistant in the Welsh mining town of Abertillery so when he was arrested for the murder of two young girls, it shook the close-knit community to the core.

"The poem actually emerged from a mild case of “writer’s block.” I was thinking rather loudly that there was nothing. There were no ideas where normally ideas are abundant. This wasn’t a frustrated kind of demand or disappointed expectation, but an awareness, acceptance and reflection that there is nothing and that nothing is all there is. There was an occasional idea, but none with enough energy to fuel the writing of an entire hub! I had the sense that there were ideas “out there” (external) but not “in here” (internal).