Poetry Forum

A lune, apparently ...

Four pints of bitter
and music
aid enlightenment.

The morning after, punctuated and extended ...

Four pints of bitter,
and music,
aid enlightenment,

oiling the doors of
perception
so that they open

easily, without
your falling
through them, slapstick style.

The morning after: judiciously (I hope) punctuated and extended.

Nice.

Although I thought "slapstick style" was possibly redundant explanation.

Nice. Maybe I like the "slapstick style" as it makes it a self-critical remark from the speaker...?

Thanks, Seth & Ian. Ian, that was the intention (and hope).

Anyway, day 2, such as it is ... (Shucks, I'm a day behind already). I'm reusing some of an old poem, if you think you recognise anything.

This is Crete. The balcony
of our apartment: breakfasts
of bread and honey, simple
and ambrosial.
It is warm already.
Greek rises like steam

from the seething street below.
The sun is moving across
the tiled floor, awakening
each row in turn
as though they were
the plains of Thessaly.

Here I am, crouched
over a postcard, probably,
distilling the experience
into brisk commonplaces.
The boy looks watchfully
out of his guarded corner.

The girl, more exuberant,
on my other side,
is acting out a healthy
disrespect behind my back.
Instead of a laurel wreath
she gives me bunny ears.

Made me laugh!

Sweet ending.

The plains of Thessaly? Definitely cheating.

Seth

Antcliff wrote:Sweet ending.

The plains of Thessaly? Definitely cheating.

Seth

Recycling.

I have fallen by the wayside. No, leave me here. Don't try to carry me. I'll only slow you down.

David wrote:I have fallen by the wayside. No, leave me here. Don't try to carry me. I'll only slow you down.

We've got you tucked into the cart beside the turnips now. You're not allowed to leave.