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Friday, 23 August 2013

The Poet

My apologies to my regular readers for my extended absence. I have spent the last year or so completely immersed in fighting CRPS and the combination of drugs and surgery have dulled my ability to think and write. I’m just a week from finishing a staged withdrawal from pain killers and whilst there has been a marked increase in pain, I can almost think clearly for the first time in quite a while. Hopefully I will be able to start writing regularly again.

This poem is about something that most poets experience at one time or another. The words; notebook, pencil and dictaphone spring to mind, but in those early morning moments reaching for the pad……. Well, we all know the score.

The Poet

Awakened.
In the darkness,
the thought,
perfectly formed,
races around a clouded mind.
So perfect.
So complete.
So, memorable.
It compels,
it swirls and churns,
demands attention,
confounds sleep.
Yet, in the morning
the rested mind recalls but fragments;
that, perfect thought,
gone.

John Carré Buchanan
23 August 2013