September Collage Poem: Merseyways
Wonderful woman lost in her mirror,
worn subject of a Swiss dream
cobbled on the back
of the toilet door.
Tiny lights
observe their image
fragile; a subtle glance.
The river wild, the river loved, the river mild.
History, life, rivalry
my eyes were filled with tears
from the sight
to play by Petrarch's rules the Bard foreswore
swept away on a sea of tears
is that a dot in the distance
or somebody drowning in the river
hateful twins of driven steam compete
water water everywhere
and not a drop
to drink!
Nigel Astell
Wed 10th Sep 2014 12:44
This Way
Words work this way
enraptured together this way
preserved always this way
collectively endorsed this way.