Learning

I am told to read other men'��s writings so that I may
learn easily what they laboured hard for.
It is now one of the great privileges of my life that,
On occasion, I can actually ask a question of them.

I do try to think and I do listen to the thoughts of
others, but without necessarily accepting them,
and certainly I put my thoughts forward for others
to do doing the same.

Flotsam & Jetsam

I walked the riverside path amongst the
Flotsam and jetsam thrown up by the high
tide, castaways, men overboard and me.

Scattered leaves, cast off branch, plastic
ball; traffic cone, worn out tyre and me

Flotsam and Jetsam thrown up by the tide
no longer to ebb and flow, beached at
Last, just like me.

I thought I was where I wanted to be, only
To find I was in the wrong place.
Each day
A dying, each one a fading dream.

Life raced by a pace. Dogs barked at wolves
As I passed. I howled at the moon,
Till the
Blush of dawn sent me on my way.

Hopes and dreams flickered out touching
The lives of others. I paused, but
Did not
Dwell, hardly broke my stride!

I tracked the illusion across a lifetime.
Never learned to live that life,
Never knew
How to love or be loved.

Icy loneliness stopped my chase. I knew
I couldn'��t outrun the thoughts in
My head,
That Insidious certainty troubled my mind.

The knowing always knew the pursuit would
Fail, and the sadness and anguish
Of that
Knowledge glistened In my eyes.

Yet still the spirit in me returned. Beaten I had
Been but not defeated, and looking back
I did
The only thing possible, I put a smile on it all!

I wish I'd written this poem, although I've done a similar one

I've just discovered your poems and I really like reading them.
Bill

Love It

I really like your poem, it becomes part of, and stimulates my imagination.

P.S. Still love your writings. Hope you are well

Bill

Happen in the Literary & Philosophical Society. I could kill the stupid bastard.

Worth a Google, just add Newcastle and you'll get it

S.A.D.

I walked the riverside path amongst the
Flotsam and jetsam thrown up by the high
tide. Castaways, men overboard and me.

Scattered leaves and cast off branch, plastic
ball; paper bag and me
Flotsam and Jetsam thrown up by the tide, no
Longer to ebb and flow but beached at last.

The Apache

The Apache don’t have a word for Love.
At the choosing, the squaw taking,
They say to each other, “ Varlebena.”
It means, Forever.
That’s all they say.

I never learned, for want of a better word, to love a woman!
I have lusted them, liked them; often admired them, but that
lasting love has eluded me.
I actually feel that somehow I am an emotional cripple. I will
keep trying to find this love , so wish me luck

I wonder, words that make the world go round. I
could never stand still and do like to jump about
a bit, so my plough hardly busts the sod.
Sometimes wish it were not so, but then I would
be someone else.

I wanted to know everything but found out I knew
nothing, but wisdom begins in wonder so that'��s a
decent place to start. Maybe I'��ll study, but probably
not.

I'��ll walk around and take it in without even knowing,
tumbleweed style. I do admire these studiers but I
want a game of golf.

I'��ll have my little diversion, then start to follow my
nose again. Wish I could make my mind up but
know I never will. I do like to wander or think about
the new.

Change I embrace gladly with fingers often burnt.
I do things naturally but well wishers wants me to
study, bless their academic souls .

I''��m like a bloody electron I want to be everywhere
all at once but when I get there I find I'��m nowhere,
'confusing? Yeah. I'��m good at some things but not
'a master , just won��t do the work they want me to do

Still its not their fault its mine!. My mind jumps
about like a grasshopper with his arse on fire, so
what chance have they got?

Don'��t look at me, I'��m not going to give them one and
maybe it doesn't matter, perhaps the wonder of wondering
is wisdom.

A Witches Coven

Lightning stabbed the earth erratically, like the thrusts of an
Incompetent assassin. The storm raged over the canopy of the
Primordial forest. Wind driven rain roared and lashed the tops
Into a wild frenzy,

Trees danced and creaked to an ancient rhythm. Below a
Cauldron simmered and bubbled over a fire, that in the stygian
Darkness gleamed and winked, with the malevolence in a
Demented polecats eye.

Piercing the night with a strident shriek, a voice demanded
"�� When shall we meet again? " �� A younger more normal voice
Replied, "�� I can do next Thursday, if everyone's ok with that ? " ��

Yeah

The Birth

Brought into being by the forces of colossal
Destruction. Heavy elements forged in death
Throes of supernovae.

Hurled by the rebound of this cosmic spectacular
Across the vastness of spacetime to once again
be perhaps captured in the pillars of creation

Well traveled , old, but long lived, if it could be
Measured, although our forms die many times.
The cat out of the box so to speak.

Primordial memories harboured deep in our
Psyche will manifest in our cataclysmic demise,
Once again everywhere and nowhere, entropy!

The Fight

The abuse came first in a torrent, nonsensical, then the
Punch. Retaliation came swiftly: like a flash of lightning
After rolling thunder, out of the blue, surprising the bully
As it crashed into his jaw.
Six foot odd toppled and clattered to the ground like a
Demolished skyscraper.

Shocked silence was heard, a period where understanding
Was lost. Minds groped and grasped making no sense of
What had happened, the protagonists stilled like figures in
A tableau.
People around stared, unsure of what had occurred. A line
had been crossed, civilities breached.


The tall man on his hands and knees shook his head to clear
The bemusement. This should not happen, could not happen,
But it had and there he was, floored. His nemesis looked on.
Not in triumph, but shame.
Well being having been breached, by the tall mans stupidity,
His sanctuary violated, its tradition besmirched. A friend lost.

Kindness and wonder are the beginnings of wisdom.
I wonder if I'm kind?
I have also noticed that Time to some, only brings
old age , not wisdom, and that is sad.

I do enjoy your writings, Oh and you need to get some new trainers

Happy Talk

Insouciance: A relaxed and happy way of behaving,
without feeling worried or guilty.
Erudite: Having or containing a lot of knowledge
known by very few people.

I wonder if this is why they think of me as an,
unambitious git who knows nothing and walks
around with a grin on his face? Oh, and probably
an imbecile as well, but who Knows? Me perhaps?