volcanic's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- oh the literary pretention! So, my brief this week for my writing workshop was to write a poem, based on sensual experience, about a random emotion picked out of a hat. Then the class has to guess what the emotion depicted is. Easy, huh? I'm very bad at poetry, I struggle to erase associations with literary pretention and thespian renderings. Anyway, I did the assignment, and here it is for your delectation and delight. If you think you can guess what it's about, do share and we''l see about a prize for the winner. Perhaps. here we go, then: The Morning After The gate yawns open, vacant and fishlike At the mouth of the garden where the path needs weeding. And the fruit on the frostbitten bushes shrivels, Ignored by the birds pecking at the bin bags, Scattering egg shells and fag ends Across the lawn where next door’s cat Watches you watching him, greasy and triumphant As he chews at a week-old carcass. Morning tea hugged close Fails to comfort, coating teeth With spent batteries and pennies and pond weed And leaves its filmy scar on the window sill While the dishcloth hangs useless on the line Like a present from Tibet, Immune to the elements, Above the sparrow flirting with the toast that you burnt. Wrinkling petals like a spinster’s thighs Drip in silence, Wishing they were lilies or gerberas Not a mixed bouquet from the all-night garage; Carnations and chrysanthemums Shape a mausoleum For the ladybird with brittle carapace and legs akimbo Whose house is still on fire. 12:47 p.m. - 04.12.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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