How pleasant it would be
To write a poem
For you
Without including too much
Sadness
Expectancy
Obscurity
A poem that would say
Enough
And not become
Drunk and tiresome
A poem to greet you
On returning from a meeting
With the night
With your eyes still
Gummed
And unopened by the touch
Of a warm dawn
When your body is not
Fashioned and activated
By speech
And dress
With a poem that must be
Free
To know
And be known
To be like a child
Escorted by some play
Or dance
To find reunion
With something misplaced
The previous day
While scrambling home
Let this poem have the tune
Of a infants trumpet
Unrehearsed and unplanned
In response to
Inspiration
Let this poem
Capture for one moment
Something wholly beautiful
For this eye
And mind
Let it not be foolish
Fail to perceive
It’s weakness
And the weakness encountered
For there is pain
Regardless of joy
However plentiful
Though these are mere words
I find consolation in them
And their spirit
I am able to walk away
From them
Unashamed of anything spoken
Or unspoken
No matter how old
And tired they may seem
To have become
Or how much they may be ridiculed
Dismissed
And used to provide shelter
I cannot discredit them
One day
The critic suggested
The required poems
Will be written
Will then my blood
And thought suffice
My speech inadequate
Might find strength in some
Unforseen words
Watching a boat on the sea
I stop
Thrusting my hands
Deep into my pockets
I watch motionless
And finally when the vessel
Is claimed
By the horizon
I turn up my collar
I stride off in search of
Tea and bed.
.
Malcolm Paul
Picture Nick Victor
.