These are the last of the poems I started on my poetry retreat. It was a remarkably prolific weekend. This first one is very brief and is based on a true story.
as a child the only time I ever talked to God was on a Wednesday afternoon
I always, politely, requested that it rain so I would not have to do games
sometimes God heard meI hated games at school. I am a very unsporty person. This next poem is from the workshop I led. It was one of those times when, although I had ideas, I could not marry them up into a coherent whole. I did rescue this.
he’ll give her five
he owes her that
or at any rate thinks he does
the hands of his watch
refuse to move
no matter how often he stares
his showerproof coat
ever so quietly
gives up the ghost
he walks eventually
Not sure that it really is a poem. It is pretty slight and it tells rather than shows, but I wanted to share it.
Speaking of not liking sport, this song was a revelation to me, I realised I was not alone, that there are others who do not like it.
Until next time.