Yesterday was one of those days when too many ideas were battling for space on the page. A line or two would come. Then a different poem would appear, demand attention, manage two inelegant lines, yield to the inevitable and round it goes.
Jogging ladies three abreast
trample past in neon vest
Not a bad couplet. But not inspiring.
We had a unicyclist at school
it made a helluva mess of the skirting
Not bad. It could be a jokey children's poem. Meh...
I know, I'll try writing a form poem.
Bright candle eyes growing around a different cake, marks the years
Toes o'er hang sandals, faded faces, cracked, mark the years.
A bit too forced.... Let's try something more free form....
My hand stands accused
of freedom
in my pocket without
the weight of dawdling feet
I may come back to that.
What about listening to music and writing to the tune? Satie...
hoping, waiting
waiting
softly opens the promise of spring
watching, listening
waiting
Oi! You on the ivories! Slow down! I'm writing here! Go back a bit.
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Cue a random picture to venerate the Facebooks....
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