Treasure Island


(JUNE 7 1964 / ABERDEEN)

Groceries and poetry

A straightforward thought,

thought straight away,

that disintegrates
as soon as it's recorded,

it's important that a wasted
thought has just died,
and I suppose that's what
we all go through,

techniques in poetry
that tend to fall short,

everything we conjure up daily,
until it's much too dry,

'I will now break with all
this so I can boil a kettle',

today I went to Liddle, a supermarket
I rarely use, bought:

2 pints of milk,
a six pack of crisps,
2 pork shanks (£1 off!)
six apple pies,
four pack of beer,
A jar of Madras curry sauce,
7 Bellona Hazlenut bars,

I carried these items in rustling
thin polythene bags, all the way home,

while crossing roads and
dodging cars, I think of new poems,
expertly crafted and honed...

and sort of inspired, until
normality strikes me dead!

'the kettle's boiled',

all I want to do now
is draw matchstick things
out of my head...

in hope that someone might
recognise some of it,
or let me off the hook,

just like the Sun
when it fizzles, too much,
or the moon hovers like a
white postage stamp balloon,

nothing can really escape me
in that what it is, it stays...

Submitted: Monday, February 17, 2014
Edited: Monday, February 17, 2014

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Poem of the Day

poet William Wordsworth


I AM not One who much or oft delight
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Of friends, who live within an easy walk,
Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight:
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