Dead Poets (Poetry)
02nd June 2009
Why do you come to call at this late hour ?
Why burden me with words you failed to write ?
You’ve had your time and space in which to flower —
Why goad me with your musings half the night ?
This is my pen, my paper... I am stating
That you trespass with your sly insistent tread
You knock and enter without even waiting
Displace my thoughts then squat inside my head.
These poems are not mine — these foreign half-breeds
That grow unruly, roll across the page —
I do not recognise them — they are wild seeds —
Slow-infiltrators claiming centre stage.
Be gone! Go bother some poor poet needy
Of inspiration — lacking of his own —
Who’ll welcome every scrap because he’s greedy.
But I am full — so leave me well alone!
Why burden me with words you failed to write ?
You’ve had your time and space in which to flower —
Why goad me with your musings half the night ?
This is my pen, my paper... I am stating
That you trespass with your sly insistent tread
You knock and enter without even waiting
Displace my thoughts then squat inside my head.
These poems are not mine — these foreign half-breeds
That grow unruly, roll across the page —
I do not recognise them — they are wild seeds —
Slow-infiltrators claiming centre stage.
Be gone! Go bother some poor poet needy
Of inspiration — lacking of his own —
Who’ll welcome every scrap because he’s greedy.
But I am full — so leave me well alone!