“I’m not happy with you”, I say to my poems.
They look at me warily.
“What have we done wrong?” they say.
“You’re too well behaved. Too orderly, genteel. Way too English”
“Too English?”, they say. “From the country that brought you Joe Cocker, the Rolling Stones, the Sex Pistols”
“Okay. Okay. Scrub ‘too English’.”
“So what else are we doing wrong?”
“You mince your way upon the page”
“Yes. Like dainty school girls. Can’t you, like, stampede upon the page?”
“Stampede? We’re not fucking gauchos! The page is not the pampas.” they say.
“Can’t you buck, twist and beat a bit, Get a rhythm going? Get a bit of dirt on your hands?”
“You’ll have to let us out more,” they say. “You can’t keep us locked in with you at nights”.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
“Out,” they say , as they head out the door, ” to paint the the town red.”
‘Paint the town red?’ Does anyone still say that? These poems really do need to get out more.
“Okay, but make sure you’re home by twelve. Drive carefully.”
11 thoughts on “The Page is Not the Pampas”
Love the format of this. Such a unique form of self reflection.
thanks Jen. It was originally in more formal attire but I got bored with it and went a little wild 🙂
A fine poem, getting a bit wild for sure! Iambic pentameter be darned, let the iambs and line lengths go for a canter, or even a bit of a gallop, if they’re feeling frisky! Risky? Maybe, but who the heck cares!? Polite trot, trot, trot, trot, trot, trot … how boring is that!? Very boring!
that’s a wonderfully amusing response, Carolyn; it made me chuckle 🙂
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Thanks John, if I fail at the cosy murder mystery thing, I’ll take up comedy!
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Hi John. Next time, maybe tell your poems that they can stay out way past midnight.
Lol :} perhaps I should loosen the reins a little but I’m afraid what they might get up to 🙂
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My poems have circles
under their eyes 😳
Lol; my apologies, David; in my intemperate haste to get the poem down, I omitted you and two others from my most recent post: this omission WILL BE rectified !
omission rectified, David; I was driving home from the gym when Dylan’s ‘Shooting Star’ came on and I thought, F^$%^ I forgot David; apologies, mate 🙂
you lead an enchanted life, Ulle: don’t you ever stop listening 🙂