I Draw The Clouds Wrong

It just came upon me,

just now.

It's gone. It's gone.

I got a bunk knee,

lost a tooth last week.

Had to push that one out

with my tongue.

It's gone.

The trysts,

the stagelight and fists

The jam nights at the

Gingerman,

puking in the alley

by the Metro - the sweatro,

the acid dream

of better than me,

the loves I swore I'd love forever.

all gone,

but grim tomorrow

like Sister Mary Perfecta

in her habit

a ruler smacked

white knuckle

'cause I drew 

the clouds wrong

and sinister.

◄ Gray Water and Dawn

I Call Me Breathing ►

Comments

Profile image

Devon Brock

Thu 4th Jul 2019 15:05

Thanks, Martin and Don. My brother had was forced to keep his dominant left hand behind his back and learn to write with his right hand.

Don, I like your whimsical approach to things. A counterbalance, much needed.

Profile image

Martin Elder

Mon 1st Jul 2019 09:37

Oh those nuns, tell me about it. I was taught by one who would wield a 6 foot long piece of cane, I kid you not.
Another cracking poem Devon

Profile image

Don Matthews

Mon 1st Jul 2019 05:58

Some people don't like gloom
And dark clouds which are black
It seems Sister Perfecta
Was one, you got the flack

But black clouds they do happen
Which you saw in your youth
Not always white and fluffy
Which you knew as the truth

(But you should have drawn them in the sky, not on the ground...)

Excuse my whimsical mind. It gets carried away at times. A serious poem which I liked.

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.

Find out more Hide this message