POETRY IS LIKE TAKING A DEEP BREATH

Monday 21 February 2011

6 A.M. THOUGHTS

Karl Spitzweg
The Nightwatchman fallen asleep


As soon as you wake they come blundering in
Like puppies or importunate children;
What was landscape emerging from mist
Becomes at once a disordered garden.

And the mess they trail with them! Embarrassments,
Anger, lust, fear - in fact the whole pig-pen;
And who'll clean it up? No hope for sleep now -
Just heave yourself out, make the tea and give in.

Dick Davis
1945