Poems seem to write themselves, phrases coming from nowhere.
Out walking, into my pocket recorder; working round the house, grab a pencil and even wall-scribble if I can’t see my sketchbook.
Thus, beside the woodburner, some years back appeared this original phrase which subsequently begat a daughter…
Nothing, then, until June 19th 2020 and this in my diary…
…Now, this morning, we have the finished item – I think!
HUMAN THERMODYNAMICS
A weighty fuel of anticipation,
Possibly too much to bear;
If it ignites,
Love’s dazzling combustion.
…
The long of Time,
Piled with Memory’s embers, glowingly unreliable;
The greying, fading, long of Time, also
Deep-drifted with ashes of regret,
Piled everywhere to stumbling
With so many unlit might-have-been fires.