St. Christopher
Some
say when you have mislaid your talent
just
beef it up anyway,
any
old words, ephemera, the plod
of
small things,
paraphernalia,
formulae.
If
that happened to me, I’d stop...
dead
stop in my tracks, not
scattering
more moist sounds
to the
world’s wind, already laden as it is
with
too much spittle.
I’d
look around for what I’d lost,
maybe
ask Saint Christopher;
he’s
helped in the past, practical items
turning
up under sofas, in cots,
by
sinks, or deep in grass.
I adore your writing Linda, so poignant, full of reflection and evocation - where can I get a book? Superb.
ReplyDeleteI'll speak to you on Messenger, James. Thanks for the high praise, not deserved.
DeleteIt is so too deserved!
DeleteNot. And I think I've got the wrong saint, it should be St. Anthony...finds lost things c/f Christopher is to keep people safe. But Anthony doesn't scan well. Sign of a secular childhood.
DeleteFace it, you're outnumbered, Linda. :) I agree with James and Rosemary.
ReplyDeleteThanks Efi. I so appreciate all the comments you've made about my poems here
Delete