In the Heat of the Day


from the ABC set

I'd write, but my synapses
are treacle slow in the heat.
My brain stirs, relapses
into torpor; the slow beat
of the fakir's pulse oozing
through swollen veins,
large not just from boozing
but other heat-alleviated pains.
Maybe a rope-trick escape
from this writer's bed of nails
will come - if I truly scrape
the barrel and describe what ails
me most, besides the lack of inspiration
that brings about this verse of desperation.

Discuss this piece in the abctales forum


Comments

insertponceyfre... | July 14, 2009 - 14:52

air conditioning? : )

chuck | July 14, 2009 - 14:57

Punkah wallah?

Ewan | July 14, 2009 - 15:03

Don't have either!!!

insertponceyfre... | July 14, 2009 - 15:53

chuck you are showing your age!

artisus | July 14, 2009 - 17:57

Very good and so honest.

Sikander | July 14, 2009 - 19:23

Gorgeous word selection, making for a truly textural poem.
Lovely work.

sarah wilson | July 14, 2009 - 20:35

I do agree with Sikander - and I love the structure of this poem. sarah

chuck | July 14, 2009 - 22:24

Times have obviously changed for Britons abroad IPNH. In my day we'd send coolie chaps into the mountains for ice. Even had dancing girls with fans.

insertponceyfre... | July 15, 2009 - 12:19

you're making me laugh chuck - coolie chaps and dancing girls, my arse

whiskey | July 15, 2009 - 13:41

Looks like you've cured your block, Ewan - it's great! :-)

Lennie | July 17, 2009 - 08:27

Good Work!, first time ive commented on your work, but I have read some other pieces of yours and thought they where really good also.

Lennie

threeleafshamrock | July 18, 2009 - 10:41

Nice one Ewan; I feel the same except it's bloody freezing here.

Chris