I always thought you were Polish
with your exotic blonde beauty
so I polished my few phrases of that language.
You never know when it might be useful.
The day after I overheard you had gone
home to a country that is not Poland
I was in a bar speaking Polish
with some old drunk who said
he thought I was an angel.
originally published in Poetry Scotland and first posted on this blog ten years ago.
Meanwhile over on Crafty Green Poet, you have a 2nd chance to read my poem Windmills!
Thursday, April 12, 2018
Friday, April 06, 2018
Fumbling
you drop your keys
into silence
someone else holds hands
with your dream
your head whirls with words
your lips hold silent
screams
Previously published in Sketchbook.
Meanwhile I posted another poem on Crafty Green Poet, you can read it here.
into silence
someone else holds hands
with your dream
your head whirls with words
your lips hold silent
screams
Previously published in Sketchbook.
Meanwhile I posted another poem on Crafty Green Poet, you can read it here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)