January Collage Poem: Beginnings and Exits

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Mothers of sons dream troubled dreams

of blowing leaves and anniversaries.

Give me an energetic brush every time


it smells like winter, trees sigh softly

and nature floats my boat. Red and gold

leaves scurry along in the force


the pungence of words strong enough

to sting the nostrils, sweet enough

to bless the ears


glamour in fleece and recognition

nutmegs and mountains, sunset and birdsong

written retribution... nature doesn't care


blue mountain kisses bring a summer's day.



Collage PoemJanuary Collage poemStockport WOL

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Andy N

Thu 16th Jan 2014 13:07

a good un, john. miss doing these with you. i am currently getting over a chest infection. hopefully will be done when i am better (maybe with a new book too - i have been very busy).

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Nigel Astell

Tue 14th Jan 2014 12:57

On the starting line
words spoken set off
first lap care taken.

Gathering up the pace
Vocal power takes control
each verse gains structure.

Collage poem finishing last
but with a glow
of collective first class.

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