Work In Progress: Night Poem

These are a few lines that I wrote the other night. Needs a lot doing with it.

Night Poem

The loneliness of distraction;
a question of language.

Cravat pirate,
hogging the turntable.

Wait — to see the shooting stars
tearing holes in the firmament.

Name a rose after that velvet queen
lost in the garden,

painting portraits and hustling
the elite for a pound.

Taste the names of those gone before,

their unfinished manifestos
staked to scarlet trees.


5 thoughts on “Work In Progress: Night Poem

      • There wasn’t anything in particular that started the poem off, I was doing a poet’s version of a musician’s jamming: writing words and lines and see what develops. Then from this I somehow got an image of a house party overlooking a garden. I suspect that the cravat pirate may go. And the velvet queen become a young girl.
        That’s the thing (and you two as a writer and a musician will know) with creating, sometimes we don’t know where we are going until we get there.

        Liked by 1 person

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