Poetry Poem by Clive Culverhouse

Poetry



poetry has rarely needed me

but every now and then I try
and get its attention

profusely, through windows
of pain and dark thought

and it just looks at me

with the eyes of a table
a waiter has recently cleaned

Sunday, December 13, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: poetry
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Poetry
by Clive Culverhouse

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