Category Archives: Prose With Pretensions
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
HANDS FREE AND SPINNING
Once we recognise
That we have
No reliable knowledge
Of our future
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.
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
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
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
Fortunately it’s sunny and dry
It’s two weeks tomorrow
I have here two much loved books
Originally purchased at second-hand shops
(being pretty short of money in my youth – 10p each!)
I have now replaced them both in better shape
So the earlier copies are surplus to requirement
While I have looked after them carefully
(You may remember from our years together
That I’m always careful with books, discs etc.)
They were a little careworn by previous owners
So I don’t think charity shops would be interested
The content beneath the slightly dilapidated surfaces though
Is too precious to be thoughtlessly assigned to the refuse bin just yet
I recognise you as a discerning reader
And wonder whether you might not
Offer them a temporary home, another reading
Even though it might be their last
In exchange I believe you may receive herein
Some fine entertainment
Some food for thought
Let me know if interested and
I’ll package and despatch them
LIGHTLY FELT TIPS
When you learn to distinguish
between what is truly good in poetry
(especially your own)
and what is – shall we say – not so good
then you are almost there.
The rest is just practice, daring,
risk taking and self confidence.
Satisfying yourself is the foundation.
Rules are there to follow or break;
pleasing others a welcome bonus.
So leave the back door wide open
and invite the Musey Lady in for a brew.
She loves to take a load off.
If she’s silent, it’s only ‘cos she’s thinking.
She’s just observing, sipping her tea.