Thursday, 14 June 2012

Angry Birds



I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who stuffs evelopes in a pale green office.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet hiding from expectations which peep through windows.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who writes it down in 20 different ways rather than say it our loud.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who sees the rain falling on the washing and stays at the desk.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who can't take a bath without a pen and soggy paper.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet with duties firmly ignored for the fictional taskmasters they are.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet hiding beneath a table in the eye of a storm.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who rhymes stew with poo just to hear her repeat it back.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet with a healthy disregard for metre or rhyme and a disturbing fetish for repetition.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who doesn't want to be a poet.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who opens evelopes in a pale green office despite having stuffed them moments earlier.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poem.
Reactions:

5 comments:

Lindsay said...

I love this and think I understand what you mean. I want to write then I don't. Too many expectations, I want to play.

Great post :)

Ashley R Lister said...

This is one of the (many) reasons why this blog is award-winning.

Ash

Wordrabbit said...

With in the walls of another's mind lies a pale blue envelope that has been stuff with the truth of bleeding by someone in a pale green office.

Though I think a soft yellow dress would match her eyes better.

Loved it.

Christo said...

Vicki -

Tx for that.

Anne always said that Damian and the late Rebecca, our son and daughter, were her poems who she tended to every day.

I'd like to be a poet who gardens letting his plants scent the air.

vicky ellis said...

Lindsay - spot on :) roll on playtime, get out the paint and playdough!

Ash - phanx!

Colin - I love where you took that image.

Christo - children as poems is one of the most beautiful metaphors I've read. Thanks for that :)