Brain-dump

I fell in love with the idea of referring to my writing as ‘my latest verbal hairball’. Ha ha!

Learning to love the silence

Stand on a street corner
A sign around my neck
“Would you like to read my poetry?”
Seeking instant gratification,
Without wifi connection.

(I wrote most of it while gazing
In deep contemplation
Of my possibly expanding midriff.)

Excuse me while I rehearse
14 lines of free verse
About my vintage Converse
Written on the obverse
Of a battered clutch-purse.

(I could be a hipster too
Except I shaved my beard off
Because it bothered me.)

Appreciation hungry,
I push my latest verbal hairball
Under your nose
Wonder whether its worth it
To see you so repulsed.

(Writing is therapy,
It doesn’t need to be read
But editing might be a beneficial)

Wordsworth never had these problems,
But then if he lived today
He’d be too busy
Taking pictures of daffodils
On his smartphone
To write poetry.

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Author: Elle

Hi, I'm Elle. I'm based in Auckland, New Zealand. I'm a moderator at Writing.com, the mother of two gifted children, the wife of a Twitch gaming streamer and the Queen of Unfinished Projects. I've been reading since I was 4 years old, writing poems (badly) since 1994, blogging since 2001 and I started studying photography in 2010. This blog will contain poems, short stories, photos, book reviews and my thoughts on a variety of topics. Hope you enjoy it.

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