On my pillow

Once more, I have only half-followed the Not Without Poetry prompt for the day. It was to ‘Go the website of your favourite poet. Copy the first line in their most recent post, and use it as the first line in your poem.’ The problem with this was that, firstly, few of my favourite poets have any sort of web presence and, secondly, of those that do, only one regularly updates it. That one is Kona Macphee. Her blog site, that elusive clarity, is updated on a daily basis. Today’s posting is about the bosom-like comfort of a pillow and I have taken my lead from that.

There is something a little unfinished about this poem but I cannot think what more to add. Significant rewriting required I think.


On my pillow

With little white pills, we have supplanted
the wings of Poesy. Fever and fret
remain but suffused with a numbness
Bacchus could not attain. The day long
leadens. Only the pillow’s call rouses.
Why wish one astonement over another?

This man-made bosom of cotton and foam
offers escape. Not the fortnight flit to
foreign fronts nor yet the brief submergence
in a rendered realm. The dreamscape compels
as of death leavened by resurrection.
As of life lived mindlessly awhile.

Posted on April 21, 2011, in Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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