A poem – maybe a fragment, maybe the whole…

I couldn’t sleep last night. And then in one moment as I was hovering in “that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming” some words began to take form. So I grabbed pen and notebook and here we are:


Is this the trick
Fate plays on the bored minds
and bodies,
tantalised by feelings of
newly revived sensations?
confused by thoughts and
questions rebounding off each other
from sheer number?

I may leave it there or it may develop more…  As Derek Walcott once said, “If you know what you are going to write when you’re writing a poem, it’s going to be average.”

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