the clichés of hours
take out the snow
the dawns and the sunsets
the moon and the stars
and reflections of mountains
and there you are
take the lonely out of loneliness
the mountainous seas
storms in the rain
or warm sunny days
explaining the meaning
of life in the telling of death
put aside love and the broken hearts
‘deaths and entrances’
the bird songs and the flowers
the clichés of ours
i am, i do, i think, the ayes,
the very clever emetic of words
the short lines the long lines
the ones in between
all the dross on a ladle of molten gold
the mettle of emotion for ever enthral
chop the autumns and the golden leaves
the summers and the winters
the spring that believes
the pudding the syrup the cloying of words
shapely text and the cleverest spacing of lines
the short lines the long lines the prose aching shape
the halcyon metaphors similarly the simile
alliterating the sublime
and believe you me (or not)
what’s left is / might be
the beating heart of poetry
or have i lost the plot
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