Wednesday 27 January 2016

Poetry Prompts


This is a great way to get writing if you haven't an idea in your head.

A while back my brother gave me an old brass coal bin that used to sit in the family home.
It was a prize piece in our living room and far too decorative to use for coal.
 So..... my father kept his socks in it.

Here's the poem that grew out of the bin.

The Brass Bin
for my father

The clang of a brass bin-lid opening
Takes me back to you
Fishing a pair of black socks
Out of it

A cylindrical brass coal bin
Sporting sailing ships
Three of them heading for the Spanish Maine
Its ringed handles looped through the mouths of lions

Too good for coal, it bore your socks
I always borrowed them
And never gave them back
I think you minded-but never said

The clang of a brass bin- lid closing
Mouths shutting
And silence
And words never spoken

Copyright with Cathy Leonard 2016

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