"Doctor Foster went to Gloucester
in a shower of rain.
He stept in a puddle,
right up to his middle,
and never went back there again."
Well, here's my take on that one; it's called
Getting to Gloucester.
His plan is laid
a fortnight in advance:
the haircut first,
to leave him time to trawl
through cupboards and drawers,
forgotten citations,
receding talent.
Somewhere lies the draft
of a poem to impress
an audience that craves
his latest work. He makes
a coded phone-call.
Confused and scared,
the railway company declares
All trains are cancelled:
terrorists have placed
metaphors on the tracks.
Police are seeking
the usual poets.
Hitch-hiking takes longer:
he smiles, reaching Gloucester.
Andrew.
Getting to Gloucester.
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- Posts: 905
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Thanks for the reply, Makera.
I wrote this piece of light verse in anticipation of meeting up with fellow Cohenites in Gloucester on October 18th. Linmag has posted an article, plus photographs, which Jarkko has plastered on the files.
I read the poem to the participants, gave them all a copy, and rapidly proceeded to read something else!
It was a good weekend; well worth 12 hours travel.
Andrew.
I wrote this piece of light verse in anticipation of meeting up with fellow Cohenites in Gloucester on October 18th. Linmag has posted an article, plus photographs, which Jarkko has plastered on the files.
I read the poem to the participants, gave them all a copy, and rapidly proceeded to read something else!
It was a good weekend; well worth 12 hours travel.
Andrew.
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