If I could pull the sky across me
for a blanket, the needle points of stars
would prickle like a bed of nettles.
I say: I subscribe to the school
of thought that some things are so bad,
they are fucking awful.
In the snigger of a Saturday night
in the early nineteen-seventies,
I announce my intention to write a novel.
It exists as a half forgotten thought
and as crossed out lines on yellow paper:
monuments to long lost battles.
Imagine I am pouring you a drink;
that the genie has lost his bottle.
Comments
tarashannon | May 21, 2009 - 09:26
I really like this
Ewan | May 21, 2009 - 11:01
Great to read something from you again. The last couplet really appealed to me.
Ewan
lenchenelf | May 21, 2009 - 11:11
'Snigger of a Saturday Night' , succint and memorable, much enjoyed, thanks atb Lena
WilkyBarKid | May 21, 2009 - 12:24
Thanks for your kind comments.
Though I thought I'd given up writing, it seems writing hasn't given up on me. I still keep getting ideas, which I occasionally jot down. But I don't take it 'seriously' any more.
If I stick around, you may see more in the way of prose than poetry in future.
You have been warned.
anipani | May 21, 2009 - 12:54
forget the genie, this is perfect. Chuck him,he's unnecessary. Fairy tales, like Gods are just that. Poor Genie, I've popped the cork back on. Glad writing found you out. Send him round, I keep wanting to put pen to paper, but the space between the chasm of my mind and the blank page grows.
Ewan | May 21, 2009 - 12:56
But there's poetry in this, Anipani.
chuck | May 21, 2009 - 19:03
Keep those occasional jottings coming Wilky. I'll take whatever I get from you.