Category Archives: writing

What to do?

WHAT TO DO?

So what’s the next thing?

On to the next action – duty-bound

                     ***

To do with finance – something earned?

Or is it the pick-up

From the ‘school run’?

Or DIY for door-hanging-off?

Cutting the grass – ‘what again?’

                     ***

Laughter – a shared joke

Please don’t share it again

It soaks – sorry sucks

                     ***

Is it – sit and contemplate?

Hardly – as navels are under cover

                     ***

Make the dinner for a change?

That’s strange – the sarcastic ‘for a change’ I mean

As you have culinar-(ised) the most

                     ***

It’s part of your duty-bound expanse

Of deeds galore and rare deeds more

                     ***

Your life – our lives – his/her life too

What’s it made up of?

(Hmm…back to questions I see)

                     ***

What is it good to do

Under the sun?

                     ***

Search and find

That’s fine…

                     ***

To try a new approach…

Routines can soak – I mean suck

                     ***

Still – breath-in – here we go

Tackle that task with fresh resolve

What task? –

you may ask

Tea at Margie’s

TEA AT MARGIE’S

“Uncharacteristically this is all I can manage”

He decided – in uncharacteristic fashion

Laying his knife and fork aside

In the proper manner on the plate

And stretching his arms creating a V shape

He looked left – then right – she wasn’t in sight

“Where did Margie go?” He asked

But no one answered – they hadn’t finished their food

“Never speak with your mouth full” someone announced

With their mouth full

So he arose in what sounded like an ‘’scuse me”

                             ***

He went looking for Margie

She was outside smoking – or – she was on fire

At first he couldn’t decide

As smoke was mixed with flames

Getting to a gap in her drag

“What d’yi want?” Margie asked

“Oh nothing – just making conversation”

“But you haven’t said anything”

At which point he thought:

“What’s the point?”

      – And left

Good/bad poem

GOOD/BAD POEM

This isn’t one of my best

But I digress

Because first –

write the poem

Before the

internal jurist speaks

              …

After all

it may turn out all right

But do I feel it ‘coming along’

Or do I sense a failure?

              …

Well –

we are only half way there

So why conclude?

 – do not fear

All will be resolved in

the person’s ear

               …

It won’t be Shakespeare

It won’t be King Lear

What doth appear?

Why – simply – “There you go”

As I finish here…

Shall I write…?

Shall I write…?

Shall I write a poem

All couched in ancient language

In obsolete or ambiguous words?

                    …

Shall I speak in hushed tones

Of Sobriety – clothed in ‘proper’ drones

Like a sniff from the Parson’s nose

All self-righteous in a condescending pose?

                    …

Shall I write in the age-old fashion

With religious language – as I bow

Before the throne of King James

Nothing to do with the here and now?

                    …

And stuttering to a stop

Ask Shakespeare to step-up

And receive the remaining accolades

As surrounded by the king’s entourage

I am dismissed as the village idiot

“Give him the badge”

                    …

Upon my head I have the jester’s hat

Is ancient cronyism all we’ve got?

                    …

Instead I don’t give way unquestioningly

To the old-fashioned prose

But rather this is what I chose

                    …

I chose to sort the wheat from the chaff

For many a truth was spoken so long ago

In ancient expressions no longer on the go

                    …

And though

                    …

I may not get it at first glance

I will consider it and give it a chance

                    …

Because our world of ‘cool’ and present-day

Has gone astray

Baby is out with the bath water

And the world is in dismay

So – so – little wisdom it displays

As it shuts out –

The Ancient of days

Now hear this…

NOW HEAR THIS (Properly)

There is much that vies for our attention, in this day and age, perhaps more than in any other. One of the main reasons for this of course, is the fact that the different means of communication have exploded.

We are bombarded with images like never before. Bombarded with options like never before. Bombarded with advertisements like never before. Bombarded with opinions like never before and so on…

And yet with all of this communication overload, we ask the question(s): How much of this overload do we really take in? How much should we take in? What should we refuse?

In a spiritual context, Jesus addressing others said this:

…“Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.”

Many heard Him but only a percentage listened to Him.

The listening that was necessary to really ‘get’ what He said could be described in this way: Listen and learn by inwardly digesting.

It is possible to be constantly learning in the sense of being confronted with information overload, and yet never actually coming to a knowledge of the truth.

We find this in II Timothy 3/

always learning but never able to come to a knowledge of the truth.

To really grasp what this means, will take more than the cursory glance, that you, in the course of reading this post – might give it. Same with all the things of God.

It could be suggested: ‘What’s the point in continuing on, in this post, and supplying further information of a spiritual nature, when it will not be properly and with effort, inwardly digested?’

Well – there will be those who seek – and they will find.

(At this point the blogger calmly put his coat on and walked out of the room, oblivious to everyone’s response…) 😍

Literature Demise

LITERATURE DEMISE

He wrote a piece that fell

on a multitude of ears

Inwardly digested by a fair amount of 

inward digestive systems

That is – I mean – what I’m trying to say is…

Taken on board – by a stumbled-on – majority

That made it brilliant – a brilliant piece of literature

The critics agreed and made speed

In hastening their accolades of much vaunted praise

But was it so?

Was it made much of – only in it’s time?

Whilst passing years eroded it – to demise

Only discovered again many moons later

Up from the grave of disregarded dusty stories

To rise short-lived for a while

But never regaining it’s ‘heavyweight champion’ status

What you make of words – it’s up to you

Alone you make the pilgrimage to the grave

The grave where the accident happened

Laying your yearly wreaths at the stone of

An old hardback copy – no one wants to read

The Next Move

THE NEXT MOVE

And as I pause and look

Hesitant in some way

Wondering what move to make

Where to step-out now

In a lost and dying world

                …

Conscious of how unconscious

The multitudes are

Not taking any talk on board

At least – talk of the true message

The only true and wholesome words

How strange that they are ignored

                 …

Who can fathom the mystery of

iniquity already at work?

But work it will – on and on

On it’s winding journey

Snake-like as it intertwines it’s

Insidious coils around the

scaffolding of the minds

And man is held bound

Until devilish demise

                …

Up from the ground He arose

To pave a way to return

I contemplate the next move

                …

Upward

Who is with you?

Who is with you?

You are important

Despite the echoing distress

Caused by all the rest

                 ***

Who whimsically abhorred you

And tried to make you feel small

Nice to say it didn’t effect you at all

                  ***

But truth is – it lay upon you in layers

Layers and layers of thoughtless flippancy

When your self-image was in it’s infancy

                  ***

Growing up with those layers of pain

Some remembered – some buried deep

Causing over-reaction exhaustion and sleep

                  ***

You didn’t understand it yourself

When you were the person you didn’t want to be

Then you learnt how to make the devil flee

                  ***

Weakest saint upon your knees

You exchanged your life for another

Now you are His ‘mother and His brother’

(Luke 8/21)

Caned

Caned

(Fiction)

I don’t know what happened but he fell and careered across the floor like a motorcycle down a hill

I don’t know what happened but he upended and

ended up – on his head as though he were dead

I don’t know what happened but he slowly came round again as though resuscitated from a dormant state

I don’t know what happened but he gathered himself and left

I do know – what happened – I struggled to hold back the laughter at this serious event

How strange that we want to laugh in the empathy we feel – as though it’s a safety mechanism to escape nightmare recollections of a traumatic event

Like – when – back in the day – we got caned at school – three on each hand and rather than cry, we laughed – our nerve ends and thoughts in turmoil at the unjust punishment.

NB: Non-fiction: (6 of the best for getting arithmetic wrong)

Apprentice interlude

APPRENTICE Interlude

So much has happened in the world since those days

Just as so much happened in the world before those days

Standing outside the central library on the steps

Leaning against the pillar and watching the world go by

As the odd gust of wind lifted dust and old cigarette packets

That wafted their obnoxious mix across one’s squinting eyes

While the journeyman who stood there beside me said little

And seemed to never hear when spoken to

Long monologues I would exhale to his ears that seemed to swivel his head from side to side as he too observed the passers by

And then frustratingly he would – after my well-crafted theories were expounded – grunt a question mark in response

As though he hadn’t heard a word

Time was up – back to the stone – the chase – the form

Back to his instruction – for now he came alive

Indentured-I-was to this fair trade as it was then

With licence to carry a sword by ancient decree

I carried a lunch box instead

The library (rarely entered) covered us with it’s canopy it’s baroque archway of an entrance providing shelter

So that even on rainy days we could watch that

changing world go by

Lunchtime break – a welcomed device for quenching

the smell of ink and wash-up

Menial tasks thrust into one’s path – do this – do that – scenarios

Except for the efforts of the non-answering journeyman

under whose wing

I began to learn the trade – Stanley – with slightly crossed eyes

I never did hear of his life again or of his demise

All darkness…

ALL DARKNESS 2021

Dramas today

Carry the stench of having gone astray

Negative emotions to the fore

Feel-good factors immobilised

Only dark situations portrayed

Dark times

Obnoxious rhymes

Dramas all black and sombre

Violence perpetrated and perpetuated

Scripts full of swear words

Of the worst kind

Addressing fellow citizens to trash them

Drug abuse and obtuse – philosophies

Abused women

And refused men

Conceited bosses lusting for power

Greed and weed

Hurt and pain

Serious crime with nothing to gain

Misery and sorrow in their wake

Dog eat dog – all on the take

Robbery and sloth

Indolent gain

Swooning around in delusional narcotics

Chaotic…

Hierarchy’s in gluttonous consumption

Iron-fisted dictators dictating to losers

And abusers

Writers won’t stop for a moment

To even ask why?

All uplifting stories gone below

To the place of disappearance

And they don’t even notice it

Characters swiftly running

to calamitous ruin

Plots of confusion for monetary gain

Dramas written

Not a wholesome word in sight

The drama pens look for material

Penning us to believe

this is the world you are living in

So they think to write the same

Make it real is the excuse

Delusional meditation offerings

Is the result

as we

Try to stay the course

In hope of a noble plot

Or something sane

So we can hope in life again

But it’s not to be found

As the rut has set in

The rut of negativity and pain

Everything wrapped in

A suicidal chain

Come on

You normal playwright minds

Give us a drama to affirm life

Let us rise with optimistic

Reprise and cheer again!

Words without meaning

The following experiment is a poem that

is the antithesis of my last post (see last post)

One might say:conversely…

WORDS WITHOUT MEANING

Why configurate these words on display?

With floweriness and watered lilies

Of flourish and fancy and carefree-say

Give me substance today

How many pats on the back is it now?

As the uniformed gush to give you praise

Why – you haven’t said anything yet

To my dismay

After all don’t say – if there’s nothing to say

Where’s your meaning in life?

Gone away – ?

We decorate your cake and make a fuss

And get together for your display

As your words are echoed in your array

You come waltzing into the company

Of adoring and moderately adoring…

And all brighten up at your celebrity

Words are many and diverse and articulate

But separating them up

No statement you have made

Of import – or discovery

You haven’t added to my grounded and settled life

You haven’t given me one iota of new found hope

You – with your words all shaken in our face

Not a word of solid stuff –

and hardy-annual-perpetuity

“Agh! – huh!” – I shrug my shoulders

As I stand on the circumference

Of your massive fan-club looking-in

Where fellow lovers of lightness Ooh! and Ahh!

But still don’t know what you say

All pretty words are not enough

‘Give me substance’ I say

Tell me the hidden mysteries

Show me the untrodden way

Bring me to the brink

Where I will stay…

More than just caressing phrases

Wrapped in rhythms and rhymes

And cock-a-doodle dandy chimes

You are still not the bearer of good news

You are the wordsmith

With nothing to explain

Nothing I can take away

Nothing whereby – I gain

Flowery-bouquet all clever and arranged

In such and such an ancient – vaze vase or vauze

Looking hard now – examining every phrase

Bouncing in the eye from you

To your words – Im amazed

That when all is said and done

You – I repeat – you – have nothing to say