|random photo of a dead tree seen during a walk |
this summer, probably not relevant to the post
unless you see a hidden meaning!
This first is an autumnal paragraph and was inspired by being left high and anything but dry during yesterday's early morning downpour.
Is it always the way that the first raindrops fall near to the bus stop, my dry house with its umbrella left several minutes behind? The next stop along has a shelter. My bus may arrive any time. Do I race through the downpour, risk being stranded between signs. Do I wait, slowly soaking through. Is it always the way that the bus is cancelled when the rain is heaviest, the decision hardest to take?
I have tried to make the second more like poetry in style although it's subject matter, a simple noticeboard, is pretty unpoetic. Thanks to Nathalie for the pomander inspiration!
The wall is boldly orange, garish, brash, attention grabbing;
pomander studded with rusted drawing pin cloves;
advertisements, announcements, promises;
many losses, nothing found;
a horizontal heap of curling corners, ripped and worn;
notice me, I’m unbelievable value, notice me, I’m cheap;
maniacally grinning stick men; gaudy colours, competing fonts;
lose lbs and pounds, play a game, join a class, meet new friends right here;
you alone can save the world for just £3 a month.