Poet Isaac, Poet Quin and Tim Tadjle.


Poet Isaac
Sat upon the coast
Between Poet Quin
And Tim Tadjle
Contemplating.
“The Atlantic Notion;

whereby all that is West of hereabouts,

Or thereabouts,

Is a haven for scoundrels

And layabouts.”

“That’s as maybe, Poet Isaac.” said Poet Quin.

“But, have you ever seen,

Or even ‘been’ further West of here? 

I fear that your words

Towards the vagabonds of the Western World

Are just pale imitations

Of words that have or wouldst have been.”

“And I would like to say something here…” said Tim.

“But, I have nothing of interest to say.”
The others both looked at him.
“Thank you, Tim.” said Poet Isaac. Your contribution, most helpful, has been noted and considered by the rest of us here. 

Now the mist it is building; high time for you… to disappear.”
And Tim did just that.
“That was clever – if a little bit harsh.” said Poet Quin. “Do you think we shall see Tim Tadjle again?”
“He shall return when the mist does desist.” announced Poet Isaac.

“For the once and future thing 

Is

That Tim Tadjle

Will always exist.”
Poet Quin considered this.
And life went on.

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