Post Card

Cherry

By Ewan

Wed, 07 Feb 2018
  • 1112 reads
6 comments
 

Post card, your birthday turns sour,

one more cute, furry squirrelmunk

or bunny vixen like last year’s

hallmark-ed sop to the passing

of time as marked by the

lines on both our foreheads.

 

Post card’s arrival Christmas

goes down hill, blurry advocaat

or rummy punches in joke mugs

patterned with yuletide pictures

slide down our throats until

we slide down the cupboards.

 

Post card with black bordered edges,

we meet: cool, weepy mourning drunk

with runny noses and red eyes

telling the friendship’s measure

poured down our necks as if

we swallow their own spirit.

Certificate PG
Poem
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by fatboy74 on

We can't hide from those lines. You're certainly making it harder for yourself or harder for Cerasus to decide what's made the grade. Like you, and many others I suspect, I find it very hard to choose what's good, but you're giving yourself plenty of options.

 

Submitted by Ewan on

very kind of you to say so. I feel producing whatever actually comes out will be a long and painful progress, a bit like a particularly severe bout of constipation.

Thanks for the cherries, eds.

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by jolono on

I can't write poetry and when I do it just sounds like Pam Ayres on a REALLY bad day! But I do recognise good Poetry when I read it...and this is really good.

 

Submitted by Ewan on

Pam Ayres does is exceptionally difficult. People remember Opportunity Knocks (was it that one?) but have never picked up one of her books of poetry. She may not be a great poet, but she crafts her poetry well and I doubt very much whether any of us could do anything as good of its kind.

Thanks for the compliment!

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Not the same with WhatsApp.

Parson Thru

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

Where I live most people think poetry starts and stops with Pam. She sells the Westcountry short. We do not all inhabit a dull limbo midway between down-to-earth and damn stupid.Some poets are able to use the speech they grew up with in a multi-layered way.

Your poem is better than that!. I understand your loathing of twee cards. I rember the birth of my first baby, lots of cards with fluffy bunnies and chickies. Only one card had an image of a baby and the card was from Spain. Bizarre.