A Home For Unwanted Verses (Poetry)
13th October 2024
I’ve gathered a whole host of paper children
as bright as makeshift kites they flitter-fly
the outcome of some vague idea’s conception
old poethood accepted with a sigh
They smile and sign all hungry for attention
and eager to translate each passing need
my pen conscripted nightly in production
they snatch at memory’s word-weary feed
How thin they are — these waifs with pale complexions
since coloured-up to draw some reader’s gaze
I paint them with a blush of strange devotion
they dot my dim horizon — drift for days ...
Quaint of form — old-fashioned in creation
verses scan tradition’s sunny sky
poor orphans safe from modernist exclusion
now given space and names to quote them by
as bright as makeshift kites they flitter-fly
the outcome of some vague idea’s conception
old poethood accepted with a sigh
They smile and sign all hungry for attention
and eager to translate each passing need
my pen conscripted nightly in production
they snatch at memory’s word-weary feed
How thin they are — these waifs with pale complexions
since coloured-up to draw some reader’s gaze
I paint them with a blush of strange devotion
they dot my dim horizon — drift for days ...
Quaint of form — old-fashioned in creation
verses scan tradition’s sunny sky
poor orphans safe from modernist exclusion
now given space and names to quote them by