Sleep
Once I've talked you back to bed
From TV's anodynic glow.
It punctuates the darkness left
By day with twitches, turns and sighs,
Marks out two commas on a sheet,
A clause unread by waking eye.
Just out of sight of paddock-mates
And smuggled over barbed-wire fence,
A fortune's worth of apples pass
Between his curled-back lips and teeth.
This halved and quartered haul belies
His stunted frame and jester's gait,
And shows his drove that they can keep
Their plaited manes and fancy ways,
As when the weekend comes they see
That it's the clown who wins the crowd.
I'm a bit late posting this one up... and I was bit late finishing it too. Suffice to say I found it really hard this week.
The mirror lifts and light, refracted, spills
Through shutter gate. A million pixels file
Their versions of events, as light turns volt,
And data forms a truth not caught by eye.
This was the title for the first week - before I decided to make this a blog. If you want to have a go at it you can do two this one too this week.
Here's my effort:
An area the size of Wales, some say,
Shelf-stacked, cellophaned, and best-befored;
Al dente trunks submitting to the axe
And saw of knife and fork, pruned then felled,
Deforestation wreaked at supper-time.