Tag Archives: #Who

Who Am I?

Who Am I?

Who am I

to spoil

the sanctity

of the unblemished page?

Why, I am the writer…

… of course.

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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.

Questions?

image

I look at the twenty-fifth letter of the Alphabet
And ask the question: why?

I look at the busy market square
Trying to find Waldo
And the question is: where?

I look at the glass filling up
And the question is: when?

I look at the physician
And the question is: who?

I look at the power output level indicator
And the question is: what?

I look at myself
And the question is: where is the sallow youth of fifteen?