April 2017 Collage Poem: Greatness
Great poets inspire; we aspire to write only the adequate, the good;
Perhaps the funny or the emotional; and we are satisfied.
Are you the poor homeless beggar that was given
A good kicking by Paul?
Different people from all walks of life
Sharing their love of the written word
Swallowing our different realities
Confined in the rhythm of Thomas
And the dirtiness of Bukowski
Under the kitchen table
Black, incandescent eyes glowed in the darkness
You made me feel right in the world
Loved like Laurel and Hardy
Flow wild in the rhythm of Thomas
Blow away the winter to leave a summer's day.
I remember when we sat in your room
Where musty sweet books bowed(?) on shelves
Pale-breathed cattle told the tale
Of 'daffodillies' and 'sunbeam showers'
Mr Bleaney's Death March
Lifts the tone. All books are crap.
All shame is lost. The air is thick
With remembered poems and forgotten names,
We will leave the Art Gallery hoping for Billy's rain
This blank page where my fingers move
Witches & poison & foxes.