(just had a bit of a cinderella moment. went to an amazing poetry night, Poetree at the BBC, and realised as it ended that it was already ten past eleven, and i still needed to write today's poem. which made for some odd non-sequitur goodbyes 'sorry, i've got to go, i need to write a poem before midnight'...weirdo! so i did it on the bus. it is an example of why i hardly ever even attempt to rhyme...) -- after fool's -- out of time and chasing rhyme and searching for a piece that aches to be sublime attemptng genius, attempting smart looking for some lines that justify the term 'art' as i scribble, pen scratch graze ink onto the page writing as a fool aspiring to be a sage never for a wage, rarely for the stage fingers fumbling, poem rumbling, tumbling from my my mind cage but the padlock's got stuck so all my lines suck and the rhyming scheme i've started's run completely amuck but i don't give a hoot about the lines i unroot only care a...
Comments
Post a Comment