On Pedants

Cezanne – Turning Road at Montgeroult – 1898

Dark Thoughts in the Staffroom

Sat in the seat of sorry separation,
Iron to pot chatters of morning’s mistakes
That made this morning different from yesterday’s.

“He said he’d get him after the lesson.
I said if he did, I’d get him after the lesson.”

“He missed a penalty. The ten year old.”
“We should have won by seven more.”

“I said I’d tell his mum about him.
He said he’d tell his dad about me.”

The Cezanne cottage shouting from the wall,
In reverence for being out of place,
Muffles its strength in an attractive frame.

Their life is a blister,
Thriving until a provocation restores a little life.
The child’s vitality vitiates their own, yet still,
They dedicate their lives to inevitability.

* * *

“Pour agir dans le monde il faut mourir a soi-meme.”
These end the life within them without a known success.

* * *

SENRYU #2: Success

Senryū is a Japanese form of short poetry similar to haiku in construction: three lines with 17 morae (syllables). Senryū tend to be about human foibles while haiku tend to be about nature, and senryū are often cynical or darkly humorous while haiku are more serious. Wikipedia

Continuing my own experimentations with a variety of different verse forms, here is my second attempt at a SENRYU . . .


A fear of failure
Stifles resolve and stunts growth.
Face up to success.



Wisdom in making choices
The difference between success and failure
That or This
I fancy that
On a whim
Going by my hunch
Informed by research
by feeling
by preconceived idea
by suggestion
by prior study
or by experience. 
Always too many choices
Myriads of multiplicities
And all with no return from choices made

How to tell
Truth from falsehood
Heaven from Hell
Real from fake
I know them well
But how distinguish
When needs must
Worm from snake 
Ashes from dust
Success from failure 
Love from lust 
Doubt from certainty
Dependence from trust

But try as I must
My heart to trust
My beclouded eye
Can neither vilify nor verify
And while discernment strives
Doubt to dispel
My true self dithers
While confidence withers
And I am left
Of certainty bereft