RACHEL FOX'S POETRY MOPED!

How soon is now.

I’m hearing mellow but I’m not feeling it

Yet

And then ? Well then.

So I listen

to now put then away,

another broken piece of yourself.

How much is left,

when every tiny victory in a hill of defeat

Is phyrrhic?

Poets are cracked pots broken in translation.

Now sun streams in the window

as sense goes out.

Pieces of a man.

Pieces of eight.

Put creation in the drawer.

Lock away vulnerability.

Shelter kindness.

Ambition has walked in the door.

I listened to Gil Scott Heron's song on Rachel's blog and wrote this at the same time. Great to be back in the saddle! Well done Rachel!

 

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