10-07-2016, 01:05 PM
achebe - This has a flow interruptus to ot somehow. Four or five lines are lyrically spotless and then are followed by a klunker.
Impossible angel
Beer and cigarettes
and you, your languid locks,
are always in my world of drunken walks
through Barbican and Bishopsgate,
in the moonbeam shallows
of walls spattered with poetry.
this last line throws the rhythm off for me.
maybe poetry spattered walls.
Thursday nights your longing is a sea
crossing through hours of drunkenness
drunken hours
Mindful glances in the mermaid shadows
turn not to me.
Impossible angel
that runs not to me.
But runs to the deep sea's emptiness
in the white frothed wave that follows
the moon's pale lamp of loneliness
the moon's pale lonely lamp
that burns not for me.
otherwise quite fine, RC
Impossible angel
Beer and cigarettes
and you, your languid locks,
are always in my world of drunken walks
through Barbican and Bishopsgate,
in the moonbeam shallows
of walls spattered with poetry.
this last line throws the rhythm off for me.
maybe poetry spattered walls.
Thursday nights your longing is a sea
crossing through hours of drunkenness
drunken hours
Mindful glances in the mermaid shadows
turn not to me.
Impossible angel
that runs not to me.
But runs to the deep sea's emptiness
in the white frothed wave that follows
the moon's pale lamp of loneliness
the moon's pale lonely lamp
that burns not for me.
otherwise quite fine, RC