Many Words, Many Words
Whenever I look upon his poems
I wonder: Why so many words today,
words concerning so many things, expressed
so aimlessly as if to meet a deadline?
He must have so drifted, rambled,
this way or that, who knows?
Today - or was it yesterday? -
he wrote of the creature who lives next door.
Oh, human, of course, but this is how he thinks.
This week - or was it last?
Is this the way poets work,
writing many words, throwing some away, using few?
Perhaps he astounds his own senses.
Neighbours always seem like that.
Neighbours! They always seem to be
there and here and there.
Just like these, oh so many quite odd words,
today or yesterday or tomorrow.
What rambling, meandering!
Is there no way to halt, stop, cease?
(9 Oct 2023)
Copyright © Andrew John | Year Posted 2023
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