Saturday, 6 November 2010

*

How strange that I have met you here – such luck was never known,
That you should be just standing there; that I should be alone,
And now you’re here, I might suggest that it would do no harm,
If we should stay and talk awhile in rare, arresting calm.

How fortunate this happy chance that brought me to your door,
A thought that’s struck me every time I’ve wound up here before,
It’s always ‘I was passing by’ or ‘Just dropped by to ask’,
A constant quest for pretexts; it’s a ceaseless, vexing task.

How odd that though I hate it, I seek you for your tea,
You’re never as suspicious as you really ought to be,
The many times we fall in step continues to amaze,
The thousand times I meet you, in accidental ways.

______________________________

Something fairly failish that I wrote a couple of weeks ago, prompted by the number of 'chance' meetings I was having with somebody. Luckily, I don't need to make up excuses any more.

Best I could do in a haze of work and tiredness - I believe I was studying Alexander Pope's 'The Dunciad' at the time and his couplets seem to have seeped into my brain, though mine aren't heroic. I was experimenting with metre because it's much more amusing than working. It's Wordsworth, Blake and Coleridge Week this time around, but I doubt they're going to inspire me to write anything - I shall be too busy sleeping in my free time!

2 comments:

  1. Anyone who can write with proper meter and form without making it sound forced or lame earns my instant respect.

    So you can expect my respect in the post within the next 2 - 4 working days. :P

    xxx

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  2. Can't say I fully agree that I avoided forced and/or lame but thank you anyway! I look forward to receiving The Concept Of Respect by post :) xxx

    ReplyDelete