How to Write

Sometimes what I write – it can sparkle, or it can flop.

Sometimes an ellipsis seems more like a full stop.

I write for days on end when my brain just won’t shut up,

then I pause for four or five months or so – long enough to fill my cup.

“That’s not doing it properly!”

“A true writer writes every day!”

“You cannot be a writer and just shut yourself away!”

“What have you published? Not a thing – why would bother then?”

You can always tell by what they say if they’ve ever loved a pen.

In and Out

I have this way of drifting and dropping

in and out of “normal” life,

in and out of tasks, of time, of timing

of accomplishment; wanting to accomplish

more than yesterday, but a little less

than tomorrow – what “should” be done,

what “must” be done – “must” or what?

“Could”, “can”, “might” –

I’m still getting to know them all

relics of a time where I was more carefree

but cared about what mattered.


Weird and awkward, odd and strange;

a set of quirks as broad as a mountain range.

Never really fit in but can’t seem to fit out –

what, really, is fitting all about?

If I can’t fit here, there, now or then,

will I fit somewhere – and if so, when?

Yes, yes you will – the “when”, I can’t say,

but when you fit with yourself,

you’ll be well on your way.


*Click* – a missile, flying through the air into the sea.

*Click* – some politician spitting “What I say shall be, shall be!”

*Click* – bird flu killed a lion, some otters and a bear.

*Click* – Kim Jong Un has a daughter and we’re supposed to care.

*Click* – twenty four new angles of Chinese spy balloons.

*Click* – ah, now that’s much better. I forgot about cartoons.