I’ve heard all the clichés before
like ‘you’ve one mouth and two ears’
‘children should be seen and not heard’
‘what’s the furthest sound you can hear?’
the loudest, the quietest,
the longest. the shortest,
the highest, the lowest,
the hardest, the soft one
because like rainfall hammering the ground,
a tiny drum-skin sitting by my brain
vibrates (as long as blood can pump around)
suggesting I’ve a fish upon a line.
It never stops - a shell held in my ear
aiming for a simple feeling near.
I liked this poem so much I left it open all week. I often criticise the usage of cliché in poetry, and pretty much dislike it. You seem a little indifferent about it (is how I'm reading it anyway), understanding the lure of it...
ReplyDelete...this is definitely a favourite of mine.
Thanks.