Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Wednesday, 7 December 2011
Make the Man
Striped deckchairs
Chiffon dress
Heads in books
A softer breeze
Beds with plumped up pillows
Rose gardens
Weeping willows
Cups of tea
Quintessential:
Fits as if a three-piece suit
Or ducks plaster cast threefold
In flight across the fire place wall
So what would you take with you
Other than paper, a pen and the sanity
To fetch back from your mind
That which you have already known
That which you know makes
The difference
Between the here and there
Between the then and now
So what
Would you take with you
To make the man:
Checked frocks
Embroidered smocks
Garlands round the maypole
Hand pulled ales
Hills and vales
Strangers resounding
At the clarion call
By the tall trees now in slumber
Somewhere East of Clumber
Deferential
Sticks unpicked
Past glories
Lost & stumbled
The shoddy
Without the shimmer
With thread and pin
Therein to sing
That sometime
The fabric’s time
Not with medals
But with honour
The fabrics time arrives
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
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