friday poem fanclub #43: Don't you hate it when you try to photograph the moon

(written 4 September 2015)

It’s a simple view, down to the sea:
A complicated harbour,
with rod-red cranes and all-night lights
reflected in the water.
Untidy stacks of low-rise blocks
nothing ventured, nothing gained
a stumbling stack of rooftops
a racecourse painted green
the cutout cargo ships upon
an ocean of a dream
and the early morning traffic
stitching headlights through the scene.

The sun has never learnt a trick - it improvises day by day:
today it’s pushing orange through a sieve of suffering grey.



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So that’s two in a row which, though it doesn’t constitute a commitment of any sort from the writer, demonstrates at least some ability to follow through.
Today I woke William just after 6, to get ready for school, and then sat down to write this poem. He dressed and ate, and then came over with his toothbrush in his mouth, and looked at the sunrise and said "Wooglw!".
I could write a poem about the view from this flat every day.

Temporarily,

Tom