The Scales of Worth

House of mirrors this-
Glowing screen with drumbeat fingers,
Tapping of their own accord,
This life that’s not my own,
Nothing but this need to write
and be read-
Loved, revered, talked of
In blogs the other side of the world,
Across the mirrored hall of my mind,
This reflected light;
Refracted thoughts,
Nothing but a mote of dust,
To weigh the scales of worth.

The content of a moment

The content of a moment, any moment
As momentous as any age of gods
Walking amongst men,
This flem, this cough, this vague unease,
A haze of feeling,
Not to the taste of all
But valuable for all that,
An array of scents on the wind;
A dog barking,
The feel of the wet and the promise of storm,
The girlfriend thumping up stairs
And warmly into bed,
Like a tidal wave,
Emotions sweeps away detritus,
A high tide for the forlorn,
And where the water recedes,
Only empty sand and a naked body-
Pale but proud,
Of not trying to cover up anymore,
It’s just a human,
Flawed and fruitful,
In words and reason,
Insights and tears,
I’m amongst the toes,
With the sibling tide,
Down the plughole of discarded thoughts,
Forgotten poems
And feelings laying in wait
For another moment such as this!

My own truth

I live in confusion,
My body stretched out under sun and reed bank,
The river lapping my feet and the wind lapping my unbuttoned shirt,
A girl lies with me laughing,
And her voice plays out across the cloud dotted sky,
I live in confusion, it has always been this way,
And yet I am free,
Let history judge and condemn me,
For never finding the truth,
For jumping like a minnow above the surface,
And never dipping deep,
But listen to her laugh,
Playing out across the cloud dotted sky,
And tell me I am wrong.
This is my own truth.


What a blow it is,
To have all you think you are –
Taken in an instant,
Those nurtured gifts,
That guarded weakness,
Cherished place in future’s isle
Snatched away by the hand of doubt,
No quick path’s to be found,
Only the sound of clumping boots in the mud
Slowly, carefully picking cockles of future worth,
Before the rising of the tide.
If a moment ago I was good,
Then now I stand on the shoulders of a giant,
That he never existed is irrelevant,
So long as I can leap to surer ground,
If his memory’s besmirched by mud and doubt
So be it,
The next standing stone rises up,
Even if I cannot see it,
Intuitions breath fills my sails,
Yet now I know not to worship her,
The wind is just the wind,
Of no more use alone than the planks of wood beneath my toes,
The creaking ropes or sweating arms of sailors,
Transporting this fool to a land,
Where he will no longer be a fool,
But see a hole in the mirror,
Through which the whole world makes sense,
And his own place in it
Is irrelevant, no – not irrelevant,
Just a ship at sea,
Much smaller is the ship but no less part
Of the sea.

On another matter completely…To those of you who read and enjoyed my post Rebirth, which was written for Elli’s competition, please follow the link below:

And vote by clicking on the number of stars you think it deserves. Many Thanks!

Haiku #4


Strange human desire,

the need to be seen and loved,

I’m no different.


Life today is full of choices, but few of them ever seem to lead to happiness. In this confusing maze, where each road taken is little more than arbitrary, it becomes too easy to follow the crowd and take no road at all.

According to the materialism of the 20th and early 21st centuries there is little room for anything but profit and ownership. We are encouraged to think of happy people as successful people, and with particular reference to Celebrity culture, desire nothing more than to be like them.

And yet for the most part, their lives are disasters. Over-inflated egos always hungry for possessions: more sex, money, cars and houses never seem to satiate them. Yet still unaware of the gnawing emptiness that greets everyone who has everything they could ever reasonably want, we are encouraged to follow every trend, every fashion in a contradictory and ever-thwarted quest for individual identity. In short, cut off from our roots we are in danger of becoming adrift and empty, a vessel longing to be filled by whatever rubbish is being sold by the media and society at large.Is it any wonder that as a Nation we are sicker than ever in body and mind?

A starting point to address these symptoms is to reassess our ideas and our definition of happiness. Does what we do to be happy feed our passion for life, inspire our spirit and help us to grow as individuals? Or is it mere momentary satisfaction that leaves us no better off?

I am certainly not championing a life of abstinence. What I am suggesting is that a night with old friends is very different to getting pissed ever weekend, and a blossoming relationship can offer more than a one-night stand. Egos that need constant inflation just to survive, self-esteem so low it needs emergency feeding; this is the cause of our addiction to what we might call  ‘surface’ happiness.

Does a man shouting ‘wanker’ at a passer by in the hope of starting a fight strike you as happy? Is the woman who has maxed out her credit cards any different apart from the new clothes she is proudly wearing? Is the womaniser who wakes up for the second night in a row with a girl whose name he can’t remember better off?

I am not saying do not do any of these things, they can be a lot of fun! What I am saying is do not expect any lasting happiness to grow from them.

The brilliant film ‘Groundhog Day’ says this better than I ever could. Once Phil has accepted that there is no escape from the day he is in, he passes the time eating, drinking, stealing and sleeping with any woman he can. But in his thwarted attempts to woo the girl he really wants, he suddenly sees the kind of man he wants to be. The next day he begins to learn to play the piano. This is the start of the self-growth that culminates in him realising the wonderful person he is capable of being, not in some distant future, but today.

(C) Copyright Mark B Williams 2014 Registered & Protected