Unsung
Fill your house with people
Friends, family, dropping by
Or staying for a while
Three bathrooms occupied
Dishwasher, every bed,
The kitchen sink
Permanently full
A push and pull
A tussling round the pool
Dining table, test match
Television
Which conversation will prevail
Topic win the hour
Bird song, identification
How the French do it
Say it, moot grammatical point
The impossibility of God
Or homeopathy
Our children’s choices
Partners, baby names
Red or white, or being summer
Rosé perhaps
Fill your house with people
Day and night
For weeks on end,
Note the moon cycling
Silently, no fuss
Just what it does, eternally
And listen, if you’ve but a mindful minute
The sound of the unwritten words
Beads scattered from the string
Unstrung
In the dust and darkness, not shining
Only the gist of a poem
Fractured
Only the gist, unsung
Fill your house with people
Friends, family, dropping by
Or staying for a while
Three bathrooms occupied
Dishwasher, every bed,
The kitchen sink
Permanently full
A push and pull
A tussling round the pool
Dining table, test match
Television
Which conversation will prevail
Topic win the hour
Bird song, identification
How the French do it
Say it, moot grammatical point
The impossibility of God
Or homeopathy
Our children’s choices
Partners, baby names
Red or white, or being summer
Rosé perhaps
Fill your house with people
Day and night
For weeks on end,
Note the moon cycling
Silently, no fuss
Just what it does, eternally
And listen, if you’ve but a mindful minute
The sound of the unwritten words
Beads scattered from the string
Unstrung
In the dust and darkness, not shining
Only the gist of a poem
Fractured
Only the gist, unsung
31st August 2010, Hounoux
Another poem that just hits the nail on the head for me too!
ReplyDeleteOf course Gill, this would speak to you. and maybe for you it would be paintings not painted. I love that our house is always full and busy in the summer, but when I wrote this poem I had a vision of poor unwritten poems, crowded out in all the bustle, left to die unnoticed in a dark corner of the house. I do actually write quite often very late at night when everyone else is asleep.
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