Tuesday, 19 February 2019

Over-worded worthiness

Over-worded worthiness 

There is this cliché of a poem crawling through my veins;
its words clotting in the fibrin of thoughts gone septic;
the frisson in anticipation of a vesiculating verse
is sinking in the dread of an oil rag threaded thought 
gone waste. Oh, do please stay with me through the
refractory of a mind on its road through the salt marshes
receding on the tears drained of every poet who hammered 
the sign ‘beware of the bog’. That the dropped stitch of the trawl net 
will let the silver-scaled words escape back to the deep dark oceans
of mind - or slither down the blind fish caves of thought - 
does not bear thinking of. Oh dear god of syntax 
grant me three verses that will bottle the genie of 
immortality in words, so that I may exsanguinate slowly and
adjure a eulogy that will deny the everlasting pallor of the page. 


1 comment:

  1. It's like childbirth. - the birth of the son(net). Very good range of ideas and expression.