Tuesday, December 13, 2016

POEM: "Untitled"


Famous for a poem written
when he was quite drunk
he doesn’t like it now
its edges curled
trodden wet leaves
he takes his walk with umbrella
in ten minutes sees the marvelous
it reminds him of prayer
a great love, a missed flight
an arrow, a bed, a blister
he wishes he wasn't famous
this film is screened once
twice, three times a week
several people watching
one gentle soul claps
there's a kind of organ music
he gets up and leaves.

© 2016 Rob Schackne

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