Planning has a purpose;

To house a better way,

To make things clear and visible,

A clearly marked out day.


It’s laudable, desirable

And helps to show the path,

Notable, remarkable,

Creative, structured math.


So, why then, do I make a plan

Then discard the obvious route

In favour of impulsive;

Making planning moot?


I like to see the road ahead,

To mark it in the diary,

Then rip it up and start again,

Do something helical and wiry.


Within this heart, two different parts;

One sensible and planned,

The other very childish,

Takes spontaneity in hand.

At The Crossroads

At the crossroads

Surfaces abound


My naked feet.

Gravel bites,

Tarmac burns,

Hot stones sear

And scorch

The soles.

A wave comes,

Cool and calm

Washing over

And caressing,


To greet

Feet –

Decide –

And move on

At the crossroads.

No signs

Of life

Or direction.

A reflection

On yesterday

And what kind

Of today

Tomorrow will be.

Ho, Hum. Addendum.


I am highly amused by many comments. I am just never quite sure how far to go.

And, I can feel and see myself shrug at some comments made to me.

Nothing offensive. People here are way too polite for that.

Just where is the line and how do you decide it?

I should probably have added this to my previous post. Ho, hum. Blame it on the Grouse and a Friday.:)  x

P.S. knows what I mean about a Friday. Don’t know about the Grouse. But, I hope one day to meet her at the kitchen portal and discuss it in great and humorous detail.


There’s a level of proficiency to my ability

To ignore what’s convenient to ignore.

To prioritise is a marvellous facility.

It helps me to achieve so much more.


I survey dust on a surface as something

Where a finger can create so much art.

A cobweb or two, hanging just so,

Can make a room look rather smart.


Some dog hair on the rug can lend panache

To an otherwise plain display,

And leaving some dishes till morning

Helps me make more of my day.


There’s a battle of wills for attention

Between people and things and me.

People come first, I come second

And the things, well, will just wait and see.


A quick tidy and spruce has remarkable use,

More than splendid housewifery.

Immaculate homes, with no features,

Lack something of a personality.


So, welcome, sit down, kick off your shoes,

Put your feet up. I’ll make us some tea.

I’d rather give time to people and thoughts

Than watching time rise up to flee.


Yes, time has a habit of running,

And chasing just isn’t my style.

So choosing, what’s important and not,

Is obvious, to me, by a mile.


Prioritise where there are chances;

Of course, keep diseases at bay.

But, as for the rest, without special request?

I’d rather make time to play.