Oh for heavens sake
how can it already be
nearly the end of
twenty eighteen?
The years are flashing
past faster than that
rock from another star
that whizzed through our
solar system to fast to be
properly observed
Category: cancer
Words words words
How many millions
of words have I
written?
Half a million in
one book alone,
other millions
scattered from one
end of my life to
the other.
It would be nice
to think one or two
will be remembered,
else why did I bother?
Illusions intact
Probably
just as well
you can’t spend
an hour with
teachers last seen
sixty years ago.
Apples for the teachers
Stan Richards,
Mary Critch,
Alan Strahan,
Charlotte Bruce,
are teachers now
long forgotten
by the world.
But not by me.
Or enough of it anyway
I began reading
when I was three.
Now, seventy years
later, surely I have
absorbed all
the wisdom of the world?
Greedy
It is not worth
desiring a
professorship
rather than love
and happiness
and a long and
healthy life.
But all four would
certainly be nice.
To be a pilgrim
The only
pilgrimage
worth making
is one to
your own past.
If you can find it.
The hours
An hour spent
with chickens
grazing in an orchard
is an hour well spent,
especially in old age.
A man who is bored with the Universe
I think I’m
running out of
things to learn.
Or perhaps just
the desire
to do so
Though mostly not
Probably best
we can’t go back
in time to events we
didn’t know,
at the time,
how we would get through
or even survive. It is
only in hindsight,
safe in the knowledge
you did survive, that
they seem like
places you would
want to visit
