Friday, 1 March 2013

For My Presents

I've had a real struggle with my poem today. Not only because I'm posting it much earlier than usual and haven't had my post-evening meal sit down but also because I think my brain is, very slowly, drying to powder.

However, I'm orf out for m'big sister's birfday tonight (check out her blog featuring some wonderful artworks here: miladyprinneth), so I'm sure a wee jaunt round the finer side of West Yorkshire's night time "scene" will inspire something more in me tomorrow. 

ALSO, while this poem is about a sad day, let it be known, I am not sad today. HERE GOES NUTHIN':

Ode to a Sad Day

I was late to the party.
I brought a Kurdish woman with me,
as part of my costume.
When we arrived,
it turned out I hadn’t been invited
at all.

We went up into the mountains.
She was wailing;
long, clean notes
like a washing machine on a spin cycle.

“Look,” I said.
“I can’t help that they didn’t want me,
you weren’t even involved.
Take solace in that,
and shut up.”

Then she picked the sun right out of me
with a long finger nail
and went running down the mountain

“Well,” I thought to myself.
“If this is life,
I ain’t buying it.”
And then I packed up my day
and went home.

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