Sunday, 23 April 2017

Garden sounds

I couldn't faithfully follow the Poetry School prompt today, to go for a walk and compose something in your head. I wasn't up to going beyond the garden and my short term memory wouldn't allow much in my head. 
So this is the start of the garden poem:

Of course the great and blue tits
teacher and bicycle wheel beyond,
seeking a squeeze in the trees.

Jesse, Jesse, come here, the dog
walker gets desperate below
the railway footbridge under ...

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