Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Ken Trimble #13 A poetic shudder

He was angry that there wasn't enough poetry in the world.
Everything he did had poetry flowing out of him.
He got drunk with poetry and loved women with poetry.
Everything had a pause and flamboyant gesture,
life was a tapestry of words.
His eyesight was failing so his friend read him
the poetry of Keats and Shelly while he sat there smiling.
Even his death was poetic falling
down the stairs.
His friend read Ode to a nightingale while he lay
in coma. He thought he saw a poetic shudder at lights
end, but perhaps, he was mistaken.

2 comments:

  1. so long lives this
    and this gives life to thee

    ReplyDelete
  2. Yes I worked at the Brotherhood of St Laurence in the aged care section in Fitzroy , he was a resident there, hmm

    ReplyDelete

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