all used up

all used up

Thinking hard about poetry readers;

you all there,

eager to read,

waiting to pounce on the poem

devour it, savour the words,

hold it in your mind and 

churn through the twists and turns.

Maybe you are hoping 

for a simply worded cul de sac where you can 

ruminate and relax with a thought that

resonates with your own.

Maybe you like the express ways 

that reading though my new poem,

flash ideas and clever images,

brings to you.

If you do then I'd like to welcome you

seriously and personally...

Stop.

A new thought sneaks about 

amongst the tomato sticks of

my south pacific garden...

a few of you may be

shy,

readers who prefer

the quiet of a study,

or den,

maybe a hammock

in some private back garden

magazines tidy on a nearby table

what about you?

Here I am leaping over your literary back fence and shouting "Hi!"

and waving, too keen...

one of those creative types all

loud Saturday shirt and wild hair.

Well, it is me, so without apology

I present...the subject of this poem...

air

yes a little surprise all right.

But the magic of the stuff.

blowing about all mysterious and unseen

so... necessary and vital

lungs, blood and brain

waiting for transformation

and separation,

oxygen extracted,

surging towards brain cells

and powering the thoughts 

and imaginations of countless people

everywhere.

Sustaining perception and the several billion

realities we possess.

Sharing these and heading together towards some

super-mass of collective, productive, self perpetuating,

utopian, shangri-la...

sorry folks you'll have to take it from here

the oxygen in my room has been 

all used up.