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cornucope
those days
there were poems under every rock
poems bird borne
poems up in the trees
on the leaves
and fell from heaven
they had a rhythm like rain
a quick one jumped the lazy dog
and several letters missing
you could keep a poem for a pet then
from thinnest air
and even tuneful
sometimes one sang along
such manna in words fell
not a one was precious
they ran like dye in the day
some of them wanted to live forever
others were happy to flash and frazzle
in dark of night
they visited
and woke me with a start
succubus baby in the treetops!
how jealous the immortals were!
what had they done of late?
it was to us the poems came
they were living with us
the living
forever was the day
sometimes stayed for sleepovers
we all wore poetry's pyjamas
had nightcaps too
past snifter
one was a hoot
some other held sway
like a cannon trained
every verse was newborn then
none critically acclaimed
but all would be
in time and times
those days
if ever there was an accident
a poem was first on the scene
the world was upside down
and inside out
it was wrong way round
poems told every kind of truth then
burnt through any old clichés
as in for instance
'those were the days'
then come to the now
in our neck of the woods
yawn, stretch
step out
and past the tummy rumble
test temperature and breeze
this world you see –
right reading?
ragged?
oh happy happy poet –
taste!
such days are here again
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