the poetic
production line
leaves me cold
as a wren on a
winter twig
let me dream again
of
what we should be
building
from the world we
left behind:
past and future,
peeling
on smoggy
mid-century hoardings
that meant more than
intended
the thing with
feathers
holds the future
like a leaf
Nice one, Robert. And congratulations on #300, how does it feel?
ReplyDeleteThanks Lucy. Something of a milestone, but sometimes I feel writing one every day has become a millstone!
ReplyDeleteSymbolic and actual exhaustion, perhaps? The second stanza speak volumes to me about the burden of hopefulness and the effort of meaning making in a chaotic world.
ReplyDeleteYes, a bit of both, I often feel overwhelmed by contemporary society!
ReplyDeleteDear Robbie, milestone or millstone, this poem is terrific. Thank you.
ReplyDelete