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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4648 Registered: 11-1998 |
Poem of the Week Dog Fleas and Meaningful Poetry Carole Barley (Vienna) Forgive me, but by the time I had stopped trying to write Meaningful Poetry and figure out just where I was going in life it was too late to kick the old water heater into action and get a bath. A long night full of Cinsault Rose has furred my tongue, and I’m going through cigarettes like Hemmingway went through Carmargue bulls in his disgraceful dreams. If you phone me tomorrow, just after Home and Away and before Channel 4 Racing from Cheltenham, you will no doubt sound almost formal and any naughtiness that may have passed between us will not be mentioned, So I won’t say how much I would like to blindfold you and paint you with some exotic alcoholic chocolatey substance and sit back for a while appreciating my handiwork before indulging. Any thoughts of me ever being beautiful have been dashed by a woman who said she wouldn’t be too upset if her dog died and who farts in public. (Its difficult to fathom where you fit in, faced with terrible truths like that) So, the works that I wouldn’t mind being published in some other country with all names and most places changed to protect those with knowing grins still languishes somewhere in my hard drive, and the book I bought about all that Tantric stuff is gathering dust because it was such heavy going and I only got up to Chapter Three when I thought I really must bath Rex, seeing as he was scratching his ears red raw, and the flea shampoo is almost up to its ‘best by’ date. Maybe I should take up yoga or tai chi, its all the rage again, a backlash of seventies macrame plant pot holders and those pictures you made with colored cotton wound artistically around nails, they were always yachts or butterflies for some strange reason. My new house is going to have limewashed wooden floors, and I spend ages thinking About the décor, driftwood and pebbles, Moroccan lamps and a futon. I don’t particularly like those pictures you chose for the living room, and I can’t help thinking that you are not going your own way in the themes you are choosing, stainless steel and terracotta have been done to death, and the funny thing is, you know it. I wish you would let your originality shine through sometimes, I really do, Afraid to push it, avant guarde conventional, that’s what you are. Oh well, if you do phone tomorrow, I will tell you that I had dinner (broccoli and steak) watched TV for a while, read some innocuous, un-controversial book and retired at a reasonable time, safe in the knowledge that all the bills were paid and that the doors were locked and that I had watered all of my plants. I like to sprawl out diagonally in bed, throw off all the sheets if its too hot, but somewhere between dog fleas and wonderful words, I wish you were here. |
