The other week Rebecca got this started again with her post here, and I responded with a Paul Auster book spine poem here. Then yesterday, Cathy came up with some splendid ones here, and, copycat that I am, I had to have another go. I so enjoy doing this… another way of playing with my books.
Here are two poems for the strange days we’re living in. One came out rather angry, one more hopeful. I’ve just added punctuation. Hope you enjoy these and do have a go yourself, it’s great fun.
When Will There be Good News?
The Whitehall mandarin, March of the lemmings,
Prick up your ears, You’re not listening.
Everything you do is wrong,
That was when people started to worry.
How we live and how we die,
The Distance, Lock in The Pesthouse,
Quarantine, Scrublands, Diagnosis.
The Treatment: Breathe Oxygen.
The Age of Anxiety
Days without end,
Believe me, I still dream.
Chances are You don’t have to live like this,
When all is said.
Now we shall be entirely free…