BLANK
VERSE
Bess looks so drunk, dehydrated these days
Like a memory line hung out to dry
As she must! Or might she one day recall?
Nodding, swearing, kicking. Screaming to squirm
Kebab and café windows are broken
Volkswagen surf bus down by the ocean
Everyone normal is sleeping by now
Rip-roaring Rangoon is closing down too
So by the time that the rickshaw heads home
Even the doughboy is kneading the bread
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I couldn't get my head round the metre thingy but I've put this up anyhow!
ReplyDeleteI couldn't get my head round it either, but I enjoyed this.
ReplyDeleteUs Northerners, eh?!!
By the centre! I'm on my way over to Beyond the Blog! Right now..
ReplyDeleteI struggle with meter, too. Never know if I've met it or not. Your poem rings right - you must have it! :)
ReplyDeleteThanks Sue at Tumblewords, you really are too kind!
ReplyDeleteI used to write a lot of structure poetry. This time I did not even attempt it.
ReplyDeleteYour poem captures it perfectly.
irrationality
Thanks Gautami and I love the passion in your irrationality!
ReplyDeleteMetres are for taxis...or the French. Structure is great discipline for organising thoughts, but creativity doesn't need form to make it sound good.
ReplyDeleteHi Stan, I think you're trying to make me feel good.. perhaps!
ReplyDelete