Neil Crawford

Rookie - 3 Points (29/04/56 / CHESTER, ENGLAND.)

Turning Over - Poem by Neil Crawford

The dawn chorus long since gone
a lone blackbird trills his song
to the day's blue bloom.
My pillows are clouds I float upon,
my bed, a safe, warm womb.

Reaching out, I turn the radio on,
a voice of doom announces further gloom,
my digit moves the dial a touch along
anf the thrill of Mahler's fourth
fills the room.

Despite the date, it's Friday the Thirteenth, I rise,
silly, furry slippers greet my feet,
curtains drawn, my eyes meet radiant skies,
each day a bright and welcoming
new leaf.

Poet's Notes about The Poem

I woke up saying the first line.

Comments about Turning Over by Neil Crawford

  • Diane Hine (4/20/2012 8:01:00 PM)

    Fresh warm poem. The furry slippers are a nice touch. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 19, 2012

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