Paper Carpet
Scattered moments of inspiration.
Drying ink captured in ruled lines,
Filed as rustling wind-chimes.
A creative mess.
A short poem I wrote in 2007 when I was 19, about the creative process + having a messy room.
Day 8 or 9
Confinement, A melting pot reaching boiling point. Neighbour's needs clash, Irritations become sparks. Tiny kingdoms close in on their kings, Yet tiny kindnesses shatter walls. Cold weather confines further And our neighbours rattle inside their shells As our boy bounces off the walls Of our little world, Where the music is constant And his breathing always Sets the tempo of our hearts And the rhythm of our sleep. This little poem was written the 24th and 25th of March, 8 and 9 nine days into the lock-down here in France. We're doing well, trying to keep creative as keeping our little boy entertained takes up most of our time. Things can get a little tense between neighbours in all this. We've had to encourage our nocturnal neighbours into a healthier rhythm as they kept waking Gabriel. Please be considerate and patient with each other, especially if you live in a flat. And while your locked in, get to know the poetry of Micheal
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