Black roads to the mind

On the black tarmac road
next to the silent driver
in the rhythm of the engine
thoughts emerge to live a little,
growing into adulthood as poems:
oversized obese sestina’s,
frolicking free verses
or remaining youngsters, the size of a mere haiku,
before they die in the gloom of red traffic lights,
and buried quietly next to the dead sheep on the moors.
Then we go on and the driver never looks back.

A look ahead to the 2 poetry volumes “Roads 1” and “Roads 2” which are due to be published by Winter Goose in March next year πŸ™‚

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Comments on: "Black roads to the mind" (10)

  1. I love this, complex and beautiful!

  2. Hey – there’s nothing ‘mere’ about a haiku! πŸ˜€

  3. “…buried quietly next to the dead sheep on the moor” is such an evocative place to put the fate of most poems. Sad, but true. Or, as the sheep say, baah.

  4. It is intriguing and delightful as always

  5. A fascinating teaser … two more volumes to be published – how wonderful, Ina! XO ❀

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