Category Archives: Prose With Pretensions

Some Regal Choices


One may refrain
From clinging to
An abandoned
Past dwelling
Maybe hovel
Maybe palace
Or simply dreamt

One may refrain
From dwelling
On what may
Or may not
Befall one
In some yet
Imagined future

Or instead
Eschewing either
Call a halt
Place one’s
Frail attention
On an awareness
Of the current moment

For time
Like a river
Has a current
And each moment
An opportunity
Before it has gone
… Forever

On A Plate


So very tired of all those
Poor Facebook addicts
Posting pics of the food
They are about to eat
He posted a photo of
What he’d already eaten

Brown, sausage-shaped
Shining on a white plate

Sadly it did not go viral
Then he remembered
“If at first you don’t …”
He thought, “I’ll produce
A more successful one
And post it tomorrow!”

Ask Anyone


Is scary
Ask anyone
Who knows
How scary
Love is



Simply slowing down
Is far more important
Than we are generally
Encouraged to notice

Once having done so
Is it not then our duty
To try to pass it on?

All We Need


Perhaps all the things
We need to learn
Are already here

And in actual fact
We only need
One single thing

To notice

Hands Free And Spinning


Once we recognise
That we have
No reliable knowledge
Of our future
Beyond conjecture
Nor any absolute control of it
We can only be left with uncertainty.

Of course it is more comfortable
Not to dwell on these truths too much though.

Poems Lead Poets


This poem as emerged is actually
far more bitter and anguished
than its writer. Or far less …
What the hell. Let’s let it go;
it’s just the way it grew.

The initial germ here sprouted out
from a piece of Sarah’s weeks ago
that somehow caught my interest.
I’d have trouble locating it now;
it’s transmorphed completely.

Laboured at it for hours; it wouldn’t let go.
Clearly it’s determined to have its say.
As for you, happening by readers
looking out for an explanation
dream on, friends, dream on.

Weavers We (A poem)


The past casts shadows over the present
Just as the present casts shadows over the future
Everything in the one tapestry is interwoven
The wise weaver will bear this fact in mind
And so avoid the trap of uncaring isolation

The Projectionists (a poem)


Unendingly we puzzle and wrestle
To make some kind of a sense of
This motley old world of ours

This mad higgledy-piggledy mishmash
Of ecstasy and misery, joy and pain
On-off light and dark, good and evil

Why oh why oh why, we wonder
Does whoever created such beauty
Permit also ugliness, such cruelty?

What stories and parables we devise
Telling of gods and devils locked tight
In pitched battle until we know not when

After some time looking into the case
Internally as well as beyond these eyes
Decided we see projection, in both senses

The dualistic dual played out in the world
Actually takes place within our own minds
No matter why we may find ourselves here

Ours is the awesome power and free will
That is our inheritance and our birthright
And also therefore ours the responsibility



This afternoon
I have to walk into town

First it’s to the dentists
To tell them she won’t
Need that appointment now

Then to the post office
To mail off the form
Removing her from the
Electoral roll

Fortunately it’s sunny and dry

It’s two weeks tomorrow

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