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Written in the cab on the way to hosting a poetry evening in a Kings Cross's Melt bar, recently...
Great fun was had by all...
Poetry Is...
Poetry is,
two lovers newly met,
hot,
on a scorching high summer’s night,
above, the only witness,
moons light watches blue,
the playing naked frolics,
salty sweat beading lightly,
over lickable silhouettes,
a patter of green grass by the embankment,
laying down under bare feet,
as wondrous giggles beam from a bubbling bustle,
and hand in hand they dive,
into a spontaneous infinity of possibilities
flowing ever forward...
