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Scratching Beard, Holding Head

Scratching Beard, Holding Head

Toing and froing getting little things done

Lazing around watching daytime TV

Temporarily caught up in the glitz and the glamour

Classic literature sitting on the shelf

Waiting to be read, I remind myself

 

Time flies by imperceptibly  

I Scratch my beard and hold my head

What was it?  That needed to be said

 

Was it correcting the law?

Or EU referendum detachment

Exchange rate ignorance or current affairs despondency

My neglected literary pen is calling

Encouragement for job list is stalling

 

Like cheerful conversation at a rainy day funeral

A subject arrives unexpected

Frustrated and bewildered by an incomplete idea

I dream then remonstrate with myself

No inspiration leaping off the shelf

 

The February sun shines beautifully through the window

Dissatisfied I ponder, chin in hand

Savouring the constant poetic dilemmas

Is it worth the effort every time?

If it has rhythm, does it have to rhyme?

 

Time flies by imperceptibly 

I Scratch my beard and hold my head

What was it?  That needed to be said

 

Stuart Clark                         18/02/16

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Comments

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M.C. Newberry

Sun 3rd Apr 2016 16:38

I'm sure there are many who identify with the theme of
this well-put observation of how inspiration can fail in
the midst of a humdrum existence. I like the use of
the rhyming last two lines as it progresses...although I'm
slightly confused by the construction of -
"What was it? That needed to be said." - wondering more
along the concept of "What was it that needed to be said?"
which continues the "indecisive" theme of the concept.
But that's a personal interpretation.

<Deleted User> (10960)

Sun 3rd Apr 2016 14:36

Hi Stuart,

I just stopped by and read your poem. If you have any similar work that's looking for a home, feel free to check out my new poetry and fiction Ezine, Bindweed Magazine:

https://bindweedmagazine.wordpress.com/submission-guidelines/

Happy writing,

Leilanie Stewart

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Stuart Clark

Sun 3rd Apr 2016 13:33

The day of one of our poetry meetings and couldn't think of anything to write and so wrote what I was feeling.

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