Daubs (a study in writing artistry)
(The Poetriter is in his writing studio)
Poetriter (to self): A few daubs of writing… here!
A few more over here…!
And a last word… here! to complete my masterpiece.
“Would you like to see it?”
(Shows the poem to the sparse audience)
“Visually… a poem.
From this distance – perhaps ‘audibly’ it would be more so.
I shall begin…”
Is like the last strawberry
In a punnet
Lonesome for a companion…
Or some cream.
Or maybe it is like a lone sonnet
In a bleak anthology
With barely a soul to gaze upon it,
And the vague idea
That the tome shall ‘ever’ be publishable.
And then realise that my words are all the same –
Apart from their spelling;
But, no point in dwelling upon that…
And, at ‘that’ my silent words fell on deaf ears
Whilst my noisy ones
Were ‘tuned out’ by an unappreciative critic –
Who shall remain aimless.’
And here the words ended
As if by luck
As if they were meant to.