Backyard

I'll be honest sometimes I have no idea what I'm doing when I write these poems. I know the learned ones are scowling at me right now. But I suppose what I mean is that I think the best poems are discoveries.

This poem evolved out of a few haphazard images. I just kept writing and of course some of the stuff that comes out is forced but keep going and you get to do this great thing where you essentially complete the thought.

So this poem is a complete stream of consciousness which I do not apologise for. Writing isn't always about doing something artistically brilliant for me as you know the blog and writing are first and foremost for me.

Hopefully poetry can help tap into that unimaginable millionth part of me as Milan Kundera might say :)

Backyard

Grass between my toes
Films black and white
Technicolor rose cotton
Dress

Dress fabric denim
Silk pants plays nylon
Burgundy coca cola
Veranda

Wood chisel white saw
Dust light rays of white
Hot sun between grass
Beyond the patio

This is old barrow
Sand turf dirt black
Fingers bogged nails
Down raking planting mowing
Forging holes building home

Poles yard sticks
Trampoline bounce pagola
Sunset milk Marsala
Orange zest lemonade

Wild furry grass under my feet