I ran in the drench past
A discarded umbrella
Alone, bent back,
With twisted spine
And crooked spokes.
This was no help to someone
Who needed more shelter
Than this could provide.
This was no help to someone
Who needed a stronger back
Than yours to stay alive.
The flappering cloth
Heavy and soaked
Puddle-damp
Lifeless.
This is how it is
To be discarded.
Categories
- Acting (22)
- Art (18)
- career (7)
- Dance (1)
- Inspiration (14)
- Photography (2)
- Poetry (17)
- Reviews (2)
- skylarking (12)
- Stage (5)
- Television (2)
- Theatre (25)
- Thoughts (11)
- Uncategorized (10)
- Voiceovers (2)
- Writing (22)
Tweets
- #Poem: The Keening soundcloud.com/jamiezoob/poem… And in the keening, The heart of the note That reached out into me, That… twitter.com/i/web/status/1… 1 hour ago
Previous Skylarks
Blog Stats
- 7,214 hits
Pages and pages of pages
Stunning. Moving. Superb.
Thanks Andrew. There may be another poem or two that may appeal to you. Hope all is good 🙂