Tag Archives: Questions

When is a poem not a poem?

When is a poem not a poem?

“When is a poem not a poem?”

Good question.

Yet, I have no good answer.

“When you read something

and it doesn’t aid digestion…?”

Possibly.

“When you don’t have the earworm swimming around your head like a serpentine simile…?”

That’s a fine image – maybe it’s then.

“On a Tuesday, at half-past three – that’s when it never happens for me…?”

That’s pretty precise – sounds quite concise.

“Anytime!”

I should say ‘yes!’ or ‘no!’ Truth is, I just don’t know.

“So what was the point of asking?”

What indeed, my friend, what indeed.

Sky

Sky

The sky is high –

“Why?” I ask myself.

I’ve asked it before,

because I just wasn’t sure,

why the sky was that high.

This time I ask,

in my rhyme,

“Why am I…

awaiting a reply?”

“What do I want?”

“What do I want?”

“What do we want?”

“A prompt!”

“When do we want it?”

“Now!”

“What will the prompt be?”

“Don’t know!”

“Why not?”

“Because that is how life is when you are having a conversation with yourself!”

“Oh.”

“What do I want… what do I really want?

hello? Anybody out there?”

A tumbleweed rolls sedately across my mind, then is gone.

The Day That I Didn’t Win A Poetry Competition.

The Day That I Didn’t Win A Poetry Competition.

The big day arrived;

the day I’d waited for

for a long, long time.

I’d sent off my rhyme,

to the address that was given;

and awaited the kudos,

the cheque…

I waited,

and I’m waiting still.

Still I wait,

as a waiter should;

and here’s a tip –

waiting is good.

How long should I wait,

and for who,

what and why?

Where should I draw the line?

When to do so, I can’t define.

Perhaps now

would be the moment

to.