CREATIVE WRITING
P O E T R Y Poems by Thomas Whittaker (Year 13)
As I OnceWas
Old Habits
Wounded
i am alone now i wish,
the fruit rests in the gutter as in bed, i
grief and habits of monks, coarse and fast thin-ipped, clipped teeth wandering in green- railinged maze and the mesh of rusting leaves, never fragile, no, internecine, grace suffered the clouds to lay down their guns, stalks of limbs stricken by the rain jab infertile at the breeze, i walk
give me those choirs of silent angels to paint the walls with, as cracked as the voices of children calling in light-filled blistered blue caverns, let me walk the corridors of all that i have seen, let me see myself as i once was
drink too much tea,
i cover myself physically but never in the mind, trees flutter outside my window, piano runs deep and wounded, a mewl of a cat, read what you like
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