My bedroom
Is upstairs
Yet every day
My aching feet
My tired legs
Have to climb
To lift themselves
As I stretch and yawn
Shaky and troubled
From sink filled dreams
To climb down the stairs
To reach the pinnacle
To look over the top
And to welcome
All that we know
As morning
Excellent playing with concrete poetry here Martin - bang on with content matching structure. Well done :)
Cheers John and Ray
I did try writing this the other way up but realised that it wouldn't make sense John
I must say Ray I am fast getting to the age where I think I will be heading for a bungalow before long so I am jealous
I live in a bungalow Martin. Sympathy comes with a slight smugness. It's a clever format and a bit disorientating reading up when coming down -so watch the mind as well as the body.
Ray
Phew, Martin! I'm glad I read this downhill.
If you wish to post a comment you must login.
This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.
Martin Elder
Mon 1st Aug 2016 22:30
Thanks for that Laura , much appreciated