Poetry Slam
(A rare excursion for me into free verse - or as I prefer to call it "prose-chopped-up-into-little-lines")
The Dream-Spinner held aloft his prize.
The vanquished fled from the yurt.
Cheku growled his disdain.
Three times Cheku had held aloft
The sacred skull
Three times he had condemned
A man to die.
In Cheku’s day a vanquished poet
Did not walk from the yurt.
Cheku growled again.
There was no passion in poets anymore.
Dave Bradley
Sat 24th Sep 2011 00:57
No problem John. Good poem, and delighted to see the poor old thread get some publicity. Ali and Nino is an unusual book.
Even if I wasn't relaxed about such things (which I am) this is being written from very far away and it's amazing how geographical distance puts things in perspective