Thursday 26 April 2018

The Tease



I am liable in saying I’m more relaxed than usual 
for this time o’ day; tho that sort o’ claim’s likely 
to excite irreverently fey hoots of blasé laughter; 

its what comes after th’ outburst dwindles away 
that might explain - there’s a School of Thought 
eschewing hirsutely creative poetic connubiality 

It is the enclave’s view that until I do my morning 
chore - which is writing verse, I’m pensively, and 
hopelessly terse t’ th’ point of being irrational, at 

least until th’ job’s done, and then th’ fun begins 
with an oral revision process - that is my version 
of a mess that sorts th’ words into a viable order 

so they can be read aloud; until you hear ‘em in 
th’ prodigal redress o’ tonal sequencing, clouds 
invade, muddling the puddles to discolouration 

and even then we’re not free t’ discombobulate 
unless there’s an atmosphere suggesting a free 
t’ air version's unstintingly due too, & very soon 

But I’m over th’ moon when th’ words blossom 
in tune and flow like the tease they were meant 
to be … 
© 12 April 2018, I. D. Carswell 

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