from BARDO

The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way our umbilicus.

Is it a consolation that the stuff of which we’re made

is star-stuff too?


– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –

dispersal only: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen.


Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.


Roselle Angwin

Tuesday, 12 December 2017

the very last Proper Poem

... because even I can't maintain this spoof much longer.

It seems that E J Thripps, who's been most prolific and is rather pleased with himself, now being a published poet 'n' all, could continue for a while yet, but I need to turn my attention to improper poetry once again, lest I forget how to write it.


So here, from EJT (still aged 471/2,more or less), is a final offering:

Elegy on a Country Sofa


So, farewell then, proper poetry.
Rhyme and metre make meaning neater,
But gradually I forgot
The entire poetic plot.
These days romcoms seem much sweeter
And verses just do not
Touch that inner spot.


© E J Thripps 











 

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