I aspire to be meringue—
sweet airiness
just scorched enough for flavour—
but recently I seem to be
a rock cake.
Or on a good day,
a doorstep sandwich.
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I aspire to be meringue—
sweet airiness
just scorched enough for flavour—
but recently I seem to be
a rock cake.
Or on a good day,
a doorstep sandwich.
2 replies on “napowrimo 10: Hollow”
Lacking the creative energy, recklessness, hubris, sheer talent or backlog of juicy poem bits on which to draw, I’ve dodged NAPOWRIMO for a second year. It takes me months, sometimes years, to bring stuff to the boil. But you have some real potential keeper material here. I shall return!
Thanks. It feels a bit like pulling teeth sometimes, but I work on the theory that if I keep plugging away I might produce something I can use and I might even get my poetry mojo back.