They have to go somewhere,
these items of furniture;
you rely on gut feeling
and a little skill.
In the main, black
is the colour of choice,
a twist of squiggles
cast into space
lined up like crazy soldiers
on a white parade ground,
individuals I have known
since dumb childhood.
Now their lives have meaning
but, if you have to ask,
you’ve probably missed the point
and the battle is lost.
Nice meta poem – crazy soldiers on a white parade background – is your handwriting so aggressive and unruly?
sorry Martin – but without Chris’ comment I would have been out in no man’s land – I’m not sure why it is “dumb childhood” – did you learn to write before you could speak? or were you meaning metaphorically dumb? And I didn’t get the title either. But then again I don’t know what a “meta poem” is – so off to find out … thanks for broadening my horizons you two.
Sarah – the poem is about poetry, hence the title. It refers to letters/words (the squiggles) that we meet early on even before we can speak. I might have used too many metaphors!
no – don’t worry – it’s just me not being a poet – I am metaphorically challenged at the best of times – glad Chris commented