Saturday, 20 February 2016

Sentenced to life…

I feel that I am nowhere now
For the Giraffe who Has Nothing and the Rider who Writes…

I am not dying
     (except in the usual gentle way)
And am only old
     (to those whose adventures are over brave)
Between these two states
     (a permanent purgatory of sorts

     where devilish disease with virtue sports)
Such circumstance grates
     (marking but not able to heed the grave)
Thus no longer bold
     (snatching at clouds brandishing words of clay)
I am but sighing

It felt like chiselling candy floss, getting the right words. Try reading it backwards, line by line; or even missing the bracketed bits out. Or both. And, if you want more of the same – but better written, of course – try this.

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