Further to my previous decision to rewrite some of my much older poetry now that I am (ha!) older, wiser and slightly more clued up on how to do it, this piece is a very slightly modified version of the second poem from the book I looked at last time. The pieces must not be in chronological order because I actually remember writing this one and I had already left University. I know this because I remember sitting at my desk in a third floor office watching the bird on the outside ledge of the window that was the border between his infinitely free space and my hermetically sealed one.
I wrote quite a lot of poetry in that office, mainly because I had no idea what my actual job was supposed to be and no one seemed especially interested in telling me.
I wrote quite a lot of poetry in that office, mainly because I had no idea what my actual job was supposed to be and no one seemed especially interested in telling me.
Anyway, here, almost too slight to actually be a poem, is
The Sparrow
There is a sparrow
Perched on the ledge
Between your bread
And my biscuit.
It eats your bread
And leaves my biscuit.
And flies away.
I wonder what the metaphor was.
That's it. Trivial, wasn't it? Never fear! The next poem in the book runs to approximately a hundred and fifty lines of free verse. It needs rather more work than the last couple have though so I'm not sure how long it will be before I get round to posting it. Long enough for you to emigrate to some remote island without computers if you really feel the urge.
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