Letters
make the words
that make the sentences
that make the words go round
the world.
And I bet,
that an alphabet
is better at aiding that
than a black cravat.
Which is kinda weird;
but, as I’ve said before,
it’s what I do.
I must go down to the words today,
the lonely words in the wood;
the ones that just aren’t used enough;
and not because
they are no good;
but, because they are so shy;
and no one goes to visit them,
and if someone does, they cry.
The words all hide
amongst the trees,
they keep themselves unspoken;
solitude is the thing they crave,
a silence likened to the grave,
or a morning quite unbroken.
I must just go,
to see they’re safe,
check they haven’t wilted;
for they had worth
in better days
before their use was stilted.
I must go down to the words today,
the lonely words in the wood.
The complete absence of anything,
leaves nothing as your only choice.
So, choose carefully, lest your voice be heard.
And, to begin, a final word:
throw Causton to the wind,
if you’ve a mind,
find a place where you can unwind,
and tread carefully
when you have read in Caerphilly.
“What do you do…?”
What do you do
when you have no words
but somewhere to put them;
have words
but nowhere to put them;
don’t have words
and
nowhere to put them
even if you did have them?
Wait for the time
when you have words
and
somewhere to put them?
Maybe.
Words are difficult;
They don’t help you to use them –
And seldom play fair.
Am I Gurumi?
It depends on how
you pronounce my name.
I think that I am;
but, I’m not –
that may be a shame,
it may be not.
Am I Gurumi?
Probably not.
There is a Haiku locked up inside this sentence – please don’t let it out.
 | The Febrile Imaginin… on #Letters – 3 – A S… |
 | cagedunn on #Letters – 3 – A S… |
 | Ritu on #SoCS @LindaGHill |
| The Febrile Imaginin… on #SoCS @LindaGHill |
| Ritu on #SoCS @LindaGHill |
