What makes me uncomfortable?
Tight jeans. Tentative silences....
Public performances.
But nothing makes me twitch and itch and shift in my seat
Like a BIG EMPTY SPACE where an apostrophe should be.
An involuntary spasm
For the missing punctuation,
Yes I care about the commas
(I also like alliteration).
I want to be
Swaddled by semicolons;
Hugged by hyphens -
A brought up short by a fat full stop.
Like notes on a score
These insignificant specks that tell words how to behave
Have made me their slightly obsessive slave.
The pleasure that I treasure
In the meter and the measure
Gets its confidence from colons
And brackets make it brave.
Friday, 15 February 2008
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2 comments:
The trouble with poet/
Is how do you know its/
Deceased?
Try the priest.
With his reputation? Risky but there's few options left...
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