A sad, tragic, dismal culmination of events that saw defeat snatched from the jaws of victory; the gods of genius not so much unfavourable . . . more kept at bay by a needy beast desperately determined to fulfil its own agenda.

There’s nothing to offer this week
Despite a resolve to not miss a beat
A conviction if you will
Destiny if you won’t
I had something great
Feisty alive in my head
Words worthy of eternity
Until some mere mortal distraction
Came robbed me of it
Endless gratitude
Platitudes onwards forever
Through whatever age
Alas no
Such thoughts did go
Thanks in no small part
Entirely in fact
To a cat
Demanding to sit on a lap
Purring and shedding along the way
Leaving nothing but apologies instead
Have you heard the one
About the cat that got fed?
Oh . . .
So then
Just random mutterings
As worth being read


Mr B the ‘troublesome’ cat.


Nothing, N. P. Ryan, 2019, Lake Ontario.

Thanks for reading 🙂

N. P. Ryan.


Next in vs. Poetry: What a Waste
Last in vs. Poetry: I Don’t Understand

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