Surround yourself with hearts of love and glee, |
don't squander precious time on those that frown, |
or those that make a crappy cup of tea. |
That's pretty simple, right? A basic plea. |
I feel I shouldn't have to write this down: |
“Surround yourself with hearts of love and glee” |
should be a thing you learnt on mother's knee |
before you reach the lessons more profound; |
and “Don't accept a crappy cup of tea”? |
that should be simpler still, it seems to me – |
as English as a quiet market town |
where English folk (devoid of love and glee) |
read Rupert Brooke and sunbathe by the sea, |
and fly their flags at every passing crown, |
fill empty souls with endless cups of tea. |
Oh gods – now I’m conflicted. Could I be |
condemned to live among these clowns, |
forever seeking hearts of love and glee, |
surrounded by their crappy cups of tea?
|
This February four* intrepid poets set off on adventure into poetry territory. Twenty-eight* days, twenty-eight* sonnets. Let's go! (*sometimes more)
05 February 2023
#5 - Monstrous
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