- So I've been away.I'm almost back, it's toigh in outer space floating in a tin can far above the world, by the way planet earth is blue (with a paisley motif) and there's nothing I can do.
But enchantedio Oakey Dokey hasset us a magnoifico task with 2 amazly pictures so I's got to post sumptin no matter how bad.The standard of the passengos pottery BTW seems to get better each week.I'm gettin out of me depth a bit now. I chose the cool boaty pic above.Deadly savage n'est ce pas amigos?
And aso i'm like totally feckin mad busy the whole time lately and blurging (specially getting round to others) is takening a back seat (ho ho)
Extra also is the pressing urgenco to get The Poetry Bus magazine finally finished.Tis the SUMMER issue FFS and august is wheezing it's way to autumn like a dying fly on a dusty window sill.
Belly to the grindly stone for fatso EEjo.
And another excuse, I has been awa frae the compluterer and I is discovered tha I canno write wi a pen no more.Only the keybored holds the poetrerty key, a kindo quirky qwerty fact.
More alsos is that I begin to realisde I have 2 poems.One whistfull look back at love thingy and the udder a ranty angsty thing, and I keep writing them over and over a million different ways.A two trick pony poet.
So here is the whistful look back at love type thingy mark 36,267. A work in constant progress.
Forget me not.
Like Swifts and Swallows we
were drifters dreaming in a foreign land
speaking the same language
that neither understood
Sweet nut brown beer by the bottle
soft nut brown skin
a slim hand
Honeysuckle and Jasmine
in full flight we spun
neath dreaming spires
our boat pulled by
the weft and the warp of the water
we were the only country we saw
(the past the future
someone else's geography)
seduced by the want of now
and now is all we have to left hold