Sometimes, almost magically, words surprise you. Especially when you’re not looking for them, settling down perhaps to watch tv or listen to music; just when you imagine your concentration is elsewhere. How can you write anything when you don’t mean to…?
Yesterday evening – and obviously not quite finished…
a cracked voice
tries to recapture the glories of the past;
a fractured timbre more full now
of passion
and understanding
than ever it was.
between the fraying notes
fragmented by a now too-narrow range,
listen for the rhythm
rattling across the slippery silvery surface
like a skimming stone
we would suddenly have skip forever.
there.
everything you would seek is just there.
more than a shallow rattle-bag;
a mirror of unfathomable
and never-ending
depth.
I confess I really like the middle stanza…
Ian Gouge - Writer 