Friday, 8 November 2013

Writing Poetry

Taken by chance from a surface,
Partial yet whole as a stone,
It nags, creeping aboard the flesh
Like a worrying stain.

The world curls up like a shadow,
The day dumps all it might bring,
And eyes stroll off at a tangent
With a pin in the brain.

But worst, and best, are the hours
Awake and aware of your spine,
When a perfect phrase disturbs you
Like a cold night-rain.

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© circa 1973-76

1 comment:

  1. But worst, and best, are the hoursAwake and aware of your spine,
    When a perfect phrase disturbs you
    Like a cold night-rain
    very ture

    ReplyDelete