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50 Poems About Life, Love, And Everything Else

Poetry is everywhere. It’s in the air we breathe, it’s in the rustling of the trees, it’s in streets of a city, and it’s in every corner of the universe; every place known and unknown to man. We are all poets. Some of us may not be through words, but through our actions and thoughts.

So here are 50 poems from a book I’ll probably never publish entitled “Box Of Chocolates” As we pick through milk chocolate, white chocolate, and dark chocolate, we also get a taste of the essence of life, the lightness of love, and the sorrow of heartbreak:


White Lies

You told me you loved me,
but your eyes were empty.
You told me you loved me,
but you were staring across the room.
You told me you loved me,
but your voice gave in.
You told me you loved me,
but you just didn’t.
I told you I loved you,
and I looked into your eyes.
You knew it, I knew it,
At least one of them was true.



These pictures
are the only things
I can hold on to,
to remember the way
things used to be
when I was with you.


Nicotine Addict

I was your cigarette
and you were my lighter.
You lit me up and burned me.
The touch of your spark
made me feel so alive.
With each breath and blow,
you would take a piece of me with you
and let it go
just as fast as you consumed me.
I would relax you and calm you down.
But I was fading away. I was deteriorating.
My ashes were becoming one
with the rubble beneath your feet.
And after you’ve finished me off,
there was nothing left of me.
You threw me away.
I wasn’t special.
I wasn’t unique.
I was just your escape.
I was the nicotine you needed.


Breaking Beats

My heart skipped a beat
when you said my name.
My heart did a tumble
when you felt the same.
My heart sank a little
when I knew what you had done.
My heart died completely
when I found out you were gone.

To Love And To Care

To love is to sacrifice.
To care is to give way.
I was once knew a man,
who felt the same way.
He loved and he cared
and he did so much more.
But the last time I saw him
he walked out the door.
I guess to love is to try
and to care is to understand.
Now I know the reason why
he never held my hand.
To him,
To love is a second
and to care is a minute.
I’m glad I know why
we weren’t a perfect fit.


Caught Up

My eyes were for you
but your eyes were for another.
You were staring across the room
gazing at each other.
From that moment on
my heart was hard as stone.
You made me realize
that I was meant to be alone.


The City Lights

I’m wandering through the streets,
the city lights blinding me.
I stumble from bar to bar
drinking the pain away.
But now, I’m lost
and I don’t know where to go.
So now I walk towards
the only place I know.

Above The Shore

Remember the cliff
we used to dive?
Remember the water
that made us feel so alive?
Remember the salt,
the sea and the sand?
Remember the way
you used to hold my hand?


Fear Of Falling

Why are we so afraid
to fall in love?
Is it the hurt, the heartbreak,
or not being enough?
Why are we so afraid
to even try?
To take a risk, to jump
to soar, to fly?
But in this lifetime
I can’t seem to say
I’ll find someone for me,
I’ll find someone who’ll stay.


Lock And Key

You can’t open a lock
with the wrong key.
Just like you and I,
we were never meant to be.

Ice Cream

Cold and sweet
was your middle name.
Just like ice cream
you tasted the same.
But as the sun shined
you melted in my hand.
You were just a temporary satisfaction,
another grain in the sand.


Empty Spaces

Why won’t you let me in?
Take down your walls
and leave your door open.
Why did you leave me in the dark
in an empty space
with a broken heart?



With lips so soft
and skin so pale,
how could anyone hurt
such a fragile thing?
With eyes so bright
and a body so frail
how could you even
leave someone hanging?

Navigation To Nowhere

Maps are complicated
if you aren’t familiar with the place.
I got lost and confused
as I navigated my way.
All the twists and turns
couldn’t lead me to my destination.
I couldn’t find you anywhere.
Not even in the nearest train station.


Poison Apple

Red and shiny,
a temptation.
One bite,
a contemplation.
Poison strikes,
a toxic creation.


Tough Times

I was never enough,
you’d always say.
It was always so tough
for me to see you this way.
When things got rough
you never asked me to stay.
I packed all my stuff
and finally walked away.


Shots of whiskey
bottles of beers
Margaritas and martinis
toasts and cheers.
Behind smiles and laughter
are the pain and sorrows
drinking the night away
and forgetting tomorrow.


Through The Curtains

Light and I
play hide and seek.
In the mornings,
Light always peeks
through the curtains
and windows it shines
I cover my face
the brightness it blinds.
My blankets and pillows
conceal me from being found.
And slowly light fades
no words, no sounds.



Morning Coffee

You are like my morning coffee.
A thought when I wake up
and my energy for the rest of the day.
Every warm sip I take
touches my soul.
It ignites a spark
that keeps me going.
Before I fall asleep,
all I can think about
is how I get to drink you in again,
and taste your warm touch
that soothes my body.
I can’t wait to feel the rush
that your warmth brings,
like tiny kisses
burning in me.
But what I love about each day
after I open my eyes,
I can’t help but feel the need
to make my morning coffee.

Slow Dancing

Your hands on my waist
and my arms around your neck,
whispering things only we could hear
is a feeling I’ll never forget.


Goodnight World

As the sunset-colored sky fades
and the stars sprinkle the heavens,
the moon peaks out to take a look
at the wonderful sight it sees.
It casts a faint light over the earth
as it moves to comfort the dark.
Its glow reflects on the water
and illuminates the streets and cities.
It balances the contrasts it makes
so that there will be no absence of light
and no consuming darkness.
But as dawn arrives,
the moon will disappear into the light
fading into white, gray, then blue.
‘Goodnight world, for it is time.
I sleep every morning to let sun shine.
You’ll see me again when the sun goes down,
I’ll be with the stars
waiting to come out.


He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

He loves me,
he loves me not.
These petals falling
are soon to rot.
But as I circle this flower
delicate and sweet.
I hope I pick the one
which tells me you love me.


The coldness of winter
would turn my nose red.
It made my cheeks burn,
it made me blush he said.
He’d grab my scarf,
wrapping it tighter around me.
In his arms
is the only place I’d rather be.


Late Night Adventures

Blankets, pillows,
beds and sheets
remind me of you
when it’s time to sleep.
When the bed sinks
and the springs creak,
I know it’s time
to advance what I seek.


Milky Way

Your eyes were like galaxies
big, dark and round.
I have made some discoveries,
some still waiting to be found.
In another dimension,
we might not be the ones.
But in this lifetime
I’m glad we’ve come undone.

Rocks And Rivers

Waves in the ocean,
clashing waters.
Fish in the sea
chasing rivers.
Fire from a match
barely flickers.
You and I
the best of lovers.


Silence Speaks

We were quiet
for quite some time.
You didn’t say a word
not even a rhyme.
The dead silence
was a perfect time
to realize I was yours
and you were mine.


Hands Of Gold

Before you,
I was clay.
But you molded me
into the person I am today.
Without you
I wouldn’t have become a vase.
Standing here
with beauty and grace.
Before you,
I was a blank canvas.
No lines, no shades, no hues.
But when you came along
you turned my whites
into yellows, greens and blues.



A needle and thread
were partners in crime.
Whatever was broken,
they’d fix it in no time.
They’d patch things up
as they worked together.
They’re the perfect match
to make all things better.


A Night We’ll Never Forget

I straighten your tie
as you take in my dress.
I apply my make up
with only you to impress.
I scan the mirror
to make sure everything’s alright.
This evening’s one I’ll never forget
as we dance through the night.


Stars Aligned

Last night was amazing
laying under the stars.
As we lay there gazing
looking for Mars.
I was looking at the sky
but you were staring at me.
The freckles across my face
resembled constellations we could see.
You traced them with your finger
naming the ones you knew.
You saw the Big Dipper
and even the little one too.


Midnight Lust

These stained sheets
remind me of last night’s memories.
Our bare skin
reminds me of every touch.
Your hand in mine
reminds me of how you held me.
Your lips on my shoulder
reminds me of every kiss.
Your words and whispers
remind me of every promise and praise.
The look in your eyes
show all you have to say.



Pull back your bow
and aim at his heart.
Go for the bull’s eye,
that’s where it should dart.
Fire your arrow
and watch the magic start.
He didn’t love you before
but now you own his heart.


Possibility of Gray

Darkness and Light
couldn’t share the same room.
But every day and night
they watched the stars and the moon.
“It is possible for us
to be together, my love
Just look at the skies
and the stars above”


Rom-Com Rain

The twisting and twirling
around the misty air
Your hands on my face
tangling in my hair.
The way we kissed
under the pouring rain,
The sway when we danced
to wash away all the pain.


Peas In A Pod

Burger and fries
cookies and milk
Stars and the skies
satin and silk
Birds and the trees
Apple and pie
Flowers and bees
You and I


Park Bench

With your head on my lap
and my fingers in your hair,
the sun right behind me
as you watch and you stare.
I bow my head down
and whisper in your ear
the little thoughts and secrets
you’ve been wanting to hear.
You smile and you laugh
looking so carefree
the whole world just blurs
and you’re the only thing I see.


Garden Of Green

Roses are red
Violets are blue
You show me each day
why your love is true.
Sunflowers are yellow
Daisies are white
Flowers can’t grow
without a little sunlight.



Red cape,
firm chest
strong arms
one quest.
To save the day
and cause no stress
To fly the world
in search for the damsel in distress.


Fly Away

Come on, let’s fly away
and forget yesterday.
Never want to grow up,
don’t want time to speed up.
Trust me and take my hand,
let’s fly to Neverland.




To travel around the world
is what I crave to do.
To go to Paris, New York,
and even Peru.
To leave without destination
is what I’ve always planned.
Something spontaneous, something exciting,
something bold and grand.


Writer’s Routine

I write to read
and read to write.
What a life this is
pens and papers in sight.
A laptop to type
A pen to write
all my experiences
through day and night


Summer In The South

Summer is my favorite time of the year.
The sand in my toes
and the wind my hair,
The smell of salt
breezing through the air.
But what I love most about summer
is not watching hot guys surf
It’s hanging out with friends
in our ole’ little turf.
The bonfires, the marshmallows,
the camping out.
Is what I love waking up to
when it’s summer in the south.


Essence Of Life

To hear is to listen.
To look is to see.
To shine is to glisten.
To search is to seek.
To love is to kiss.
To risk is to dare.
To touch is to feel.
To live is to care.


Printed Pages

I walked into heaven
as I stepped into the library.
And endless sea of books
we’re in sight right in front of me.
The smell of old pages
and the colorful covers
can take me to places
and do me some wonders



Life is like
a game of chess.
Calculating moves
and waiting for the next.
Going across a board
of black and white.
Meeting pawns and kings
and queens and knights.


Typical Stereotypes

Jocks and cheerleaders
total stereotypes
Nerds and geeks
always the smart guys
Goths and rebels
dressed in black not white
The popular crowd
partying day and night



Staying afloat
in oceans so deep,
Keeping my balance
in mountains so steep.
Falling and drowning
are my worst two fears.
Water and heights
would bring me to tears.


Sunday Morning

Eggs and bacon
on a Sunday morning.
Sipping coffee and tea
while the rain is pouring.
Glued to my couch
or stuck in my bed,
watching Netflix all day
or reading books I’ve never read.



Belly button rings,
dyed hair.
Small tattoos
Intimidating stare.
Chains and boots
eyeliner all black
Dark shirts and shoes
tough surface to crack

“Barf” bags

“Barf” bags


Sunday 30 August 2015.

Greetings to readers around the world to this week’s glimpse of life in Sri Lanka, including a look at a curious collectable.

Motor show

There was a four-day motor show held in Colombo last week. I went there with web wizard, Andrew, out of curiosity and was delighted to discover a new model three-wheeler (“tuk tuk”) vehicle on display. This is assembled in Sri Lanka with parts imported from India. When we’ve bought new tuk-tuks before, we have had to upgrade the upholstery to make the seats more comfortable. This Sri Lankan version comes with plush driver and passenger seats, a sturdy canopy and even an inbuilt sound system. It costs Rs475,000 [£ 2,275; US$ 3,527]. Since we need a new tuk tuk at home, this might be our eventual choice…

Locally assembled tuk tuk


The motor show pavilions were excessively noisy, not only with music blasting out but also with the revving and roaring of engines. Also, as though to make spectators feel at ease in the tranquil park outside, there was an exhibition of daredevil motorbike stunts to remind everyone of Colombo’s traffic chaos.

Motorbike stunt

Buffet flow

Refurbishment of the old Union Bar & Grill at the Hilton Colombo Residences has resulted in the opening of the latest buffet dining venue, called Flow. Whether it’s named after “go with the flow” I don’t know. In spite of finding the name rather unappetising, I was lured there by the press release: “a state-of-the-art multi cuisine all day dining restaurant complete with five open kitchens dishing up a delectable spread of Asian and Western cuisines…”

Flow tandoori kebabs


Perhaps I misunderstood, as Flow doesn’t do all day buffets at all, but breakfast, lunch and dinner buffets at the usual times. There are some novel serving pans with holders for lids as “state-of-the-art.” The open kitchens are five separate counters behind which chefs wait to warm up whatever you choose from the display. There were Indian, Japanese, Oriental, Sri Lankan and Western (roast lamb) dishes on the day I lunched there.

Dessert flow

The dessert counter (unfortunately placed near the flow of people by the busy entrance) was formidable with a chef ready to make crêpes. However, his effort in response to my request for Crêpe Suzette was disappointing (no liqueur-infused fruity sauce but strawberry syrup squeezed from a dispenser). The buffet cost was Rs2,650 [£ 12.70; US$ 19.68 ] (including tax and service charge) per person. It’s ok for agile gourmands but not for a lunch when you want to talk business, instead of having to leap up and down between courses. And the service not only flowed, it ebbed too.


Thank you to the many readers around the world who responded to my request for identification of the two chickens I have inadvertently acquired. The consensus seems to be that the white one, at least, is a silkie bantam although perhaps not pure bred while the other is a cross breed.

One correspondent reports that “This is a Chinese form of chicken … they have “pompoms” of fur on their feet. They are very entertaining – the ‘Barbara Windsors’ of the chicken world”

Other correspondents comment: “Silkies are usually very tame and quite characters all the same!” and “Said to originate in China, named for the silk-like texture of the feathers. They are even less bright than regular chickens, but they have nicer natures and they don’t smell like most hens. Make great pets.” Also: “The fluff around the ankles being distinctive and the Silky being the smaller of the Bantam family.”

Bantams – Silkie, Sultan or something else?

However, another correspondent suggests my hens might be Sultans, a breed originating in Turkey. Since a silkie hen has black flesh, much favoured as a gourmet treat in China, perhaps that’s how I shall eventually identify the breed…

Air sickness bags

It’s amazing what people collect. Surely one of the oddest items is air sickness bags, presumably unused. How do I know that people collect them?

Because recently there were eight offered for auction on ebay and the bidding rose progressively from 99p (my bid) to £74.72, that’s over £9 [Rs1,889; $ 13.95] a bag.

I’ve discovered too that there’s a website ( for “barf bags” (as they’re called colloquially) which lists 2,687 bags for potential collectors to reach for, and 260 enthusiastic collectors (barf baggers?) around the world.

Air Ceylon bag part of the Lot

Why did I bid? Because one of the bags came from Air Ceylon and I am interested in items connected with the history of aviation in Sri Lanka. Air Ceylon began flying from Ratmalana Airport, now a domestic airport north of Colombo, in 1947, and from 1967 to 1978 operated from Bandaranaike International Airport. Then it ceased operations to re-emerge as Air Lanka which, in turn, became Sri Lankan.

Rare early airsickness bag


I guess an air sickness bag over 40 years old must be pretty rare, but I think I’ll stick to cheaper souvenirs of Sri Lanka.

Card Slot

(From 50 years ago. Issued by British grocers Seymour Mead & Co Ltd)


“In a modern tea warehouse the leaf is not touched by hand. It is blended in bulk in a large rotating drum. The blend is then tipped into an automatic weighing and packing machine where cams and levers clutch and shape pieces of paper into packets. The packets pass under nozzles through which the tea pours into them, then continue on to machinery which seals and labels. Finally, off they go on a conveyor belt to be parceled up and sent to grocers’ shops all over the country.”

This week’s good read

Read about life when Sir Cliff Richard and yours truly were young – and on the road together. Available from or all the amazons as a really readable paperback. (ISBN 9780956683472).

If you want to share this weekly newsletter (and the photos) with others, the best way is to tell them to check the link: I also write about Sri Lanka on:

and on:

Beat regards


A View from Sri Lanka

ROYSTON REPORTS, Number 200. Sunday 23 February 2014.

Greetings to readers as we countdown to the end of the discount period for purchasing my Bradt Guide to Sri Lanka.


Another Arrack

A beautiful pink hued glass bottle was given to me for my birthday containing what I’m happy to describe as an arrack of distinction. To my astonishment, according to the bottle, it is “bottled by authority & to specification in the United Kingdom.” However, it is “distilled & aged by Rockland Distilleries Ltd, Sri Lanka.” So I assume what is described as “Ceylon Arrack: 100% natural from the sap of the coconut flower. Pure distilled. Aged in traditional Sri Lankan Hamilla wood.” is shipped to the UK for bottling.

Rose-tinted arrack

I always thought that arrack originated as a workingman’s drink but the label etched on to the bottle has a different theory. “In the days of the kings, the process of making arrack was fiercely guarded and revered as an island secret. This ‘drink of the Gods’ was so highly esteemed that it was served only to the royal families.”

So what does this “blend with a distinct tropical accent, which we are proud to call ‘sunshine in a bottle’” actually taste like? Its bouquet is caramelly, its colour once it’s poured out of the rose-tinted bottle, resembles a pale sherry but its taste (at 40% alcohol) is fiery. One sip swells in the mouth and lingers with a long finish. It is certainly “sunny” and is what I imagine a single mint malt whisky would be like, were there such a thing.


Booked bird

I’m not an enthusiastic nature lover but do my bit to conserve wildlife by staying away from it. Thus I don’t join in the safari jaunts by jeep rattling around Sri Lanka’s nature reserves to gaze at elephants who’d prefer to be left alone, or screech across the Indian Ocean in speedboats searching for whales to watch or dolphins to photograph.

A rare book on birds

So when a friend sent me the 1977 edition of A Guide to the Birds of Ceylon by G M Henry first published in 1955, I dipped into it cautiously to identify this perky chap I photographed at a market stall in Haputale.

It seems to be the Ceylon House Sparrow (Passer domesticus soror). Mr Henry’s text was so readable I quickly became hooked. He describes this bird as “a notorious hanger-on of man, its food is anything in the way of waste grain or other farinaceous food …” He continues: “The song of the male – uttered while courting, with much attitudinizing before his lady-love, and later, while she is incubating, from a nearby perch – is an endless repetition of phillip, phillip, phillip.”

From the fly leaf of the book I learn that G M Henry was for 35 years on the staff of the Colombo Museum. He confesses: “My interest in birds is primarily aesthetic; their beauty of form, colour, texture and pattern of plumage; their flight, song, behaviour and elusiveness appeal to me far more than the – to my mind, utterly barren – attempts to achieve a uniform set of technical names…”

Mr Henry seems a formidable writer with a style as pretty as the birds about which he writes so intimately. Thanks for this delightful book to my friend, who accompanied his gift with this cheeky card created by himself.


More birthdays

There’s a lovely custom in Sri Lanka of feeding loved ones and friends with birthday cake, hand to mouth. A lot of birthdays here this month, including that of Kanchana (Kumara’s wife) on the 17th and Kumara himself on 26th February. Here they are enjoying themselves in my garden at Kanchana’s birthday party. My thanks, too, to the many readers who emailed me greetings on my own recent birthday.

Cake for her birthday


Looks familiar?

From a reader in England comes another photo from his father’s collection taken in Ceylon in 1943. It looks familiar. Where is it?

A familiar Colombo sight?

I mentioned in a previous newsletter that Sri Lanka’s premier photographer, Dominic Sansoni, is setting up a website archive of photos of old Ceylon. He is keen that people who have albums and photographs they are willing to have scanned for the site, should contact him.



I used to collect old postcards of Ceylon but never thought of tracking down old posters promoting the then Ceylon’s attractions. There is currently a new exhibition of posters at Colombo’s Barefoot Gallery with many exotic film and travel posters on display until 16 March when the collection goes on a world tour. Worth seeing but if you’re not in Colombo, check online at:


The Small Print

I am often asked how I find topics to write about each week in this newsletter. That’s not a problem really as there is usually something intriguing happening here in Sri Lanka, or in my writing life. The original idea of this weekly newsletter was to let readers know about my books because, to survive as an author, I need to sell my books (as do my publishers, bless ‘em).

My main concern is not what to write but making sure that the newsletter is circulated on time. I do all the things the publisher Word Press demands but still it doesn’t always get to readers every Sunday morning as it should. However, if you’re missing your copy in your email inbox, you can read it online at

Andrew, the webmonster who set up this newsletter nearly four years ago (this is our 200th edition) tells me that in January we had over 1 million unique visitors and almost 5 million hits. While I will continue the writing, Andrew is taking over the design and circulation so I can concentrate on getting a dozen new books ready for my USA publisher Kicks Kindles ( and on my memoir for Tomahawk Press of the UK about Cliff Richard & The Shadows (more on that next month).


Discount Countdown

Bradt Books about Sri Lanka by Royston Ellis

In the meantime, there are only five days left (until 28 February) to get 40% discount on my Bradt Guide Sri Lanka by visiting: and entering code SRILANKA40 on check out.




TROPICAL TOPICS, Sunday 14 February, 2016.

Welcome lovers and others to this St Valentine’s Day edition of my newsletter, which is also the last one.

Dish of the Week

Beef in Sri Lanka has the unfortunate reputation of being tough and lacking flavour. It isn’t: it’s the lack of traditional knowledge of young chefs (and village butchers) that often render beef hard to swallow. The best local beef (from the hill country) I have ever eaten was at a bungalow in Haputale where the 80 year-old chef transformed the meat into a dish for gourmets. He wouldn’t divulge his secret but it had something to do with long marination in papaya juice.

We’ve tried cooking beef at home without success and I am wary of having it in restaurants in Sri Lanka. So I was thrilled to discover Beef Tataki in an unexpected source, the Japanese seafood specialist restaurant: The Tuna & The Crab in Galle Fort. True, it was imported Black Angus but this starter was priced at only Rs800 [£ 3.84; $ 5.55] (when it can cost as much as $35 in similar restaurants in Maldives or Singapore.

Black Angus Beef Tataki



My old friend, Yasmin Cader, whom I first met more than 25 years ago when she was handling public relations for the Ceylon Intercontinental Hotel (now the voluptuous Kingsbury), has sent me information about the eagerly-awaited annual Scrabble Contest supporting those with Alzheimer’s Disease.

LAF Scrabble Bash Flier 2016

This is being held on Saturday 27 February from 9.30am to 4pm at the Lanka Alzheimer’s Foundation premises, 110 Ketawalamulla Lane, Colombo. Sponsors are sought at Rs2,500 a participant; telephone 011 266 7080 for information.



Thank you to everyone who sent greetings on my recent birthday, including an old friend who wrote: “Teenagers are 75 this year.”

Birthday breakfast with Neel & Kumara

Regular readers will know a little bit about my life before I settled in 1980 in Sri Lanka. Here are some more items from that distant place called Nostalgia.


Back number

A search of cyber space by a friend has revealed something I had totally forgotten about, an issue of the much-missed PUNCH magazine, published in England in 1960, in which I have the lead article about teenagers. (I was 19 at the time!)

Punch, 9 March 1960



My visit to Liverpool in 1960 when I encountered (and performed beat poetry in the Jacaranda cellar with) four lads – John, Paul, George and Stuart – who eventually became the Beatles, is commemorated in a plaque in Ye Cracke Pub in Liverpool. I’ve never seen it.

Plaque at Ye Cracke

Bill Harry has written: “This plaque hanging in Ye Cracke pub in Liverpool commemorates the visit to Liverpool by Royston Ellis in June 1960 to perform his poetry, when he was backed at the Jacaranda by the then Beetles. It mentions the influence Royston had on Bill Harry, John Lennon, Stuart Sutcliffe and Rod Murray – ‘the Dissenters,’ John Lennon’s other band (which never played a note).”


Dominica days

From 1966 to 1979 (when I was blown away to Sri Lanka by Hurricane David), I lived in Dominica, considered “the nature island of the Caribbean.” I had a log cabin on a hillside overlooking the beach village of Mero. I set up, and for a time was President of, the Dominica Cricket Association (DCA). We founded the Village Cricket Tournament, enabling village teams to compete with each other for a championship cup. This gave a lot of village cricketers a chance to reveal their talents to selectors for the Dominica team.

With the last Governor of Dominca

This photograph was sent – by coincidence – to me last week by Pete Brand, the creator in Dominica of the Island House Hotel (also blown away by David). It shows a dapper young Royston with Dominica’s gentleman governor, Sir Louis Cools-Lartigue, handing a cheque to Cecil Bramble, the DCA’s Treasurer/Secretary and The Hon Arnold Active, the DCA’s Vice President.


Here’s to cyber exile

I received this personalised New Year card from an acquaintance and reader of this newsletter, which I’m reproducing here as a kind of farewell photo to all the readers who have been following these newsletters for the past six years.

Here’s to cyber exile

“This photo, for me, summons the essence of Royston. Joie de vivre, carpe diem, celebrating life and making the most of every moment. Apologies for pigeon-holing you thus!”


Latest books

All the amazons have either paperback or kindle copies of these books available on line. Copies of the more than 60 books I’ve written (including the Bondmaster series that I wrote as Richard Tresillian) occasionally pop up on ebay.

Pop books still available

Sex in the Swinging Sixties

A rollicking good read

A Swashbuckling Yarn

My last Guide book

Poems from 55 years ago



As previously announced this is the last of my weekly newsletters and many readers have written kindly expressing dismay and say the newsletters will be missed. I, too, am going to miss this newsletter – but not the aggravation of the technical side which, alas, I can no longer handle.

Of course I’m not actually retiring (writers never do, they just lose the plot) but exiling myself from cyberspace so I can concentrate on writing fiction and poetry (back to my roots) – and building a swimming pool and a couple of contemporary cottages for holiday rental in the garden of Horizon. (Let me know if you’d like to stay…)

The swimming pool goes here

If you’re missing me next Sunday (or at any time) go to: and click on “enter the magazine” then scroll down to page number 18 to find the transcript of a live interview with me recorded by Peter Stockton for Tales from the Woods magazine when I visited England last May.

Mahesh, Ravi & Kumara, the Horizon gang

I have informed the company that circulates (or doesn’t) this newsletter each week, that there will be no more newsletter emails to you from me in future. So if you do receive anything purporting to be from, DO NOT OPEN IT. Instead, TRASH IT immediately. (So if you write to me at this address, I’ll make sure that I reply from a different one.)

Thanks for being with me all these years; bon voyage on life’s thrilling journey, and beat regards.

Royston Ellis

About Royston Ellis

Welcome to the website where you can find out all you want to know (and a lot you probably don’t want to know) about Royston Ellis, author, travel writer and erstwhile beat poet.In September 2016, Royston Ellis was appointed for three years as Editor of DESTINATION MALDIVES, the magazine published annually by Feel Investments for the Maldives Marketing & Public Relations Corporation.

About Royston Ellis

Royston Ellis was born on 10 February 1941 in Pinner, England, and educated at state schools until he left age 16, determined to be a writer. Two years later, his first book, Jiving to Gyp, a sequence of poems, was published and he performed his poetry on stage and TV to backing by Cliff Richard’s original group, The Shadows; by Jimmy Page, later of Led Zepplin; and by John, Paul, George & Stuart who become famous as the Beatles, a spelling Royston suggested to them, instead of Beetles.

In 1960 he caused a nationwide controversy by his remarks on teenage lifestyle in the TV programme Living For Kicks. In 1961 his book The Big Beat Scene was first published. For his literary achievements Royston was awarded the title Duke Gypino y Tintinabulation de Redonda by the king of that Caribbean island.

At 20 Royston left England for a life of travel that took him to Moscow, where he read his poetry on stage with the iconic Russian poet Yevtushenko, and then to the Canary Islands where he acted briefly as an Arab with Cliff Richard in the movie Wonderful Life, and wrote three novels.

From 1966 to 1980 he lived in Dominica and wrote the bestselling Bondmaster series of historical novels as Richard Tresillian; as well as becoming President of the Dominica Cricket Association, a member of MCC and of the Windward Islands Cricket Board of Control.

In 1980 he settled permanently in Sri Lanka where he now lives in a colonial cottage overlooking the Indian Ocean, and in 2003 was appointed as the Warden (a kind of Honorary Consul) of southern Sri Lanka for the British High Commission. The author of over 60 published books (guides, novels, biographies and volumes of poetry) he also writes travel features for inflight, international and Sri Lankan magazines.

“To write first and think afterwards is still his bad habit” – School report, 1950

“He has robust power of expression” John Betjeman – Daily Telegraph, 1959