A PAGE OF USED INK

I  have been revising some poems I first sketched out on holiday. I find travelling excellent stimulus for writing, but there is always the long task of shaping your ideas once you have them on paper.  This first poem explores this.

tricky customers

sometimes

at night perhaps

a poem can slip through your fingers

vanish

back to wherever it came from

all you are left with

is a page of used ink

This second offering was written in a restaurant in Catalunya. I am a habitual reader of t-shirts, my own usually have an album cover printed on the front. 

the back of the man at the next table’s t-shirt declaims

we will rise against society

in bold black lettering

but not until he has finished his meal and paid the bill

Karl Popper was right, change needs to happen in a piecemeal manner if it is to be effective. Perhaps the wearer of the shirt secretly agreed?

Here's some Salif Kieta. At the moment I am playing either African music or Spirit and as last post it was Spirit here's some amazing music from Mali.

Until next time.