Slightly amended with comments from WOL users
Small rivers on the train window,
rain refracts grey light, distorts landscapes
moving backwards towards the origin.
Distance swallowed in cloud,
colours washed until the remains
are indeterminate shapes and sky.
Ah the sky! So bloated and low.
Could I reach, push it back,
reveal hidden horizons?
Like this,
Like that final stanza. That `bloated` fits rain-clouds exactly.
I think I would make those last two read
Colours washed until the remains
Are indeterminate shapes, and the distance
Swallowed, swallowed in cloud.
Ah, those clouds! So bloated and low.
Could I reach, push then back,
Reveal hidden horizons?
Sorry for messin` with it (it was so good)
If you wish to post a comment you must login.
This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.
Andy Ainsworth
Tue 17th Dec 2013 22:19
Stop messing with my poem! Thanks Harry. There are any number of ways to play around with it.