A social site for poets in Sydney.
Invent a new word and scrawl it on the footpath.
Create a peace banner and hang it on my chest.
Write ‘left’ on one foot, and ‘go’ on the other.
Stand by, waiting patiently for the aftermath.
Spend my only life as an artisan scratching
scrimshaw into bones of frames for scaffolds
for masterpieces. Pray for patent protection, or an afterlife
and, wait for the plan’s inevitable hatching.
Sledge stone, incise, align. With ten thousand other
slaves I join this chorus with the sky. Climb past breath
until with babble spit collapse I am revolting
with the very stench of hope
that someone will take care of me.
Hello IIan, thanks for your thoughtful reply; I'm glad you like it!
I really like this poem of yours. Especially the first sentence in the second paragraph. I feel like that sometimes.
Thanks Amanda, I sure hope your hard work is reaping rewards for you.