The Prattle Ceaseless
Great! I thought alone on a train
Just time to set a poem down
But reckoned without the prattle
Ceaseless, Brighton to London town
Michael Jackson's dead- What a shock!
Fragments: appalling Ryan Air
Americans you talk and talk
That's Monty Python to be fair
But god, the funny men spoke truth
Just love your English this and that
Bombay daughter loud on India
So on and on the fractured chat
Wordsworth's tranquility? No way
Tower of Babel in carriage eight
Give up the fight, snap shut my book
The words will come, sooner or late
When lo! Upon my inner thigh
I sense a warmth is spreading out
Starbuck's cup quite overflowing
Culprit neighbour emits loud shout
Dabbing in panic, sorry so
Sorry. I stare at darkening stain
Slice of life played out this Friday
Moving stuff on Railtrack highway
Crowded Brighton to London train
Brighton 26th June 2009
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I was almost in that train with you Sally. I hope your journey to Bristol is less eventful. x
ReplyDeleteThe coffee-spiller gave me her email address as she was anxious to know if the coffee would clean out of my turquoise dress. When I replied to allay her fears she sent me this reply:
ReplyDeleteYes, thank you, Sally, for the poem. For reasons unknown to me - I'm a technophobe, no question - your email has been sitting in my office 'Junk Mail' for several days.
But now I know I'm (in)famous, and all is well ! I have shown your poem to my colleague Tanya, who was also sitting on the train on that fateful day. She was the blonde sitting facing the direction of travel, on the other side of the aisle to me. I gather she was inwardly convulsed at my - and your - discomfort, but the man sitting facing her allegedly frowned at her and mouthed the word, "No!". She did well not to howl uncontrollably, but certainly made up for it later that day in our rather quaint surburban office in New Barnet, when she was joined by yet another colleague, Jaqui. The pair of them were beyond reasonable conversation for several minutes as they both pictured the scene and Tanya relived every little detail, out loud.
I'm very very glad your lovely turquoise dress washed out well, thank God you weren't wearing white .........
And although I hope you remain inspired to continue your poems on your journeys, I do heartily wish you protection from other cack-handed Princess Fiona-look-a-likes you may meet on your travels !
Good luck, and thank you again for sending me the poem.
Miranda Zdan-Michajlowicz