Is life pre ordained? – a poem by Stuart Crossley – All Poetry—by-Stuart-Crossley


They gazed upon the same page, it felt like (this is the best way to explain, though far from accurate) they had forgotten how to write.
As they were lost in this clouded ‘vision’ their very soul seemed empty of all creativity, their mobile phone bleeped at them.
” another email?” – they thought, as they dispassionately read.

At first, they could not comprehend what they were reading, it was as if a foreign language was before them!

a job was offered to them in Calais, the position it seemed, on the face of it, to be of utmost importance

‘I have reached the same point in time, a state of consciousness, if you like. Where am I to turn? From what angle am I to write, to veiw myself?
-all these endless questions are quite maddening, I tell you!’

As I am sure the reader is well aware of the fact that our progenitor feels unable to write,

where is their inspiration to come from?


As they embarked on their journey to Calais, a sudden sense of nervousness gripped them

it was as if they felt unable to be suitable for the position, yet they had been chosen, so they felt that they should try their hardest.

They had never had such a challenge before, but strangely (as this usually happens in reverse, as you will see) they became more confident the closer they got!


As the carriage which took them through the gates that led to the front door, a wrenching feeling was strongly felt inside!

They almost wished that they had not come (they were that nervous now), yet it was too late now.

The coachman was paid handsomely, for which they were very grateful ‘Thankyou kind sir, that is very welcome.’

Thanks were given for the journey, then they found themselves in front of the door of the grand manor

nervousness was felt inside, they were visibly trembling as they knocked…

… as the door was opened their heart seemed to stop! – This was the moment, this was what they feared but needed, they (if they looked inside their soul) could not explain.

A gentleman who was (they presumed) the butler ‘This way, sir, the Master of the house shall see you now.’

As they entered the opulent quarters, a welcoming feeling pervaded them(they could not explain it) – A well presented gentleman addressed them thus: ‘How rude of me, where are my manners? Please be seated, there is much to discuss. Please, I ask you not to be nervous, I wish this to be as relaxed as possible.’

They seated themselves( as they were told to do so) – In preparation for the forthcoming conversation.

‘ Let me begin by introducing myself ‘ – He said.

‘ My name is Mr. Johnson, I shall be your employer from this point onwards – I hope to become friends also.’

‘That sounds most agreeable sir, can you please be kind enough to explain further to me my duties in this position.’ – They said.

‘I wish if you write for me, in whatever style, on any subject you so wish.’

‘That sounds most agreeable sir, I hope what I write is adequate to your wishes’

‘Truth be told, I am sure someone like you will produce astounding works.’

‘Sir you so flatter me, but, as I am interested, why do you do so?’

‘After much research of your previous work, I decided to contact you as I am sure that you will be capable of works which are more than applicable to me’

‘I see, I shall endeavour to try my very best sir.’

‘That is most appreciated sir, have you dined? If not we shall do so before I escort you to your quarters.’

‘Thankyou kindly sir, as I am famished that would be most appreciated.A place of rest shall be welcome also.’

‘This way, my friend.’

As they entered the grand dining room, they were struck by the enormous dining table

The table was richly adorned with a fine display of many kinds of food, a ravenous appetite overcame him.

As the pair were dining, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen entered the room.

‘I trust everything is fine your meals sir’ – She said.

‘Everything is very satisfying, as always cook, I thankyou so much, as I am sure my friend does also. ‘

They also gave gratification (although they were not conscious of what they said), She was that beautiful!

‘Are you okay my friend?’ – Said Mr Johnson.

‘I – I am fine sir’. – They stammered.

They were suddenly aware of how tired they were, and asked thus: ‘I do ask sir, in a most polite fashion, I may add, can I be shown to my chambers as I feel I must slumber?’

‘Why certainly, my friend, I shall do so, I expect you must certainly be exhausted after your journey.’

As they were guided to their quarters ,they passed the young woman he had seen earlier.

It was most fortunate Mr.Johnson was holding the lamp as they both travelled down the hallway.

-They could not stop staring at the beauty before them!-A nervous shakiness ran all through them!

‘Good evening m’lady’-was all they managed to say.

‘Good evening to you too sir,I hope everything is agreeable to your standards.’

‘More than agreeable young lady,I must thank you.’-Their shyness around the young girl dissolved(which they did regret very quickly.)

‘Why thankyou kind sir,that is more than appreciated.’

A sudden sense of sense of nervousness overcame them [of which they cannot explain] ,they,of a sudden,became aware of how their heart was pounding -They had never felt like this before in the presence of a woman!

He (after an awkward farewell) was escorted down the hall by Mr.Johnson to be shown his bed chamber.

The night was restless,as he could not stop thinking about the divine young woman.

A wave of guilt ran through him also,should he feel this way about the maid of a man who has been so kind to him?


As he awoke from his slumber,one may say,his first thought was of her,was he in love?As he had never felt this way before,so he knew not.

This write may or may not ,have an abrupt ending…

Share My Notes

“…If I cannot read,I cannot write.”

What was that supposed to mean?
I shall explain.

If one is not able read and so take in information,how can one use the imagination to it’s greatest use?

Therefore,how is it possible to write? Please do not get me wrong,I was not being literal,if information (in whatever form it comes in) comes to us,in a conversation ,for example,where is inspiration (in a true sense ,to be arrived at?) to come to us? Imagination is within us all,I grant you that,but inspiration of some form is needed to give us that spark to bring out the best in us all.

Share My Notes

[…A hand drew itself across the surface…]

…A hand drew across the surface…
…They awoke.Another repeated dream that never finished.

Back to work again.As they made their way there,the nights disturbance was forgotten.

…Much like this write…

The thought(or whatever you wish to call it) presented itself so clearly.” Are these unfinished ‘dreams’ to haunt me even in my waking life?”

They drank their first cup of coffee that day (they did not have time this morning,as they were running late.)

“How many more auditory ‘visitors’ will I experience this day ?

Am I going insane?”

…The knife ended it’s cut abruptly…

A thought came to him,at that very moment

“These passing thoughts never finish,or for that matter,they seem to be missing a form of connection,

can they be representatives of my life,which,thinking about it,is mundane and incomplete?”