And Peter Pepper picked a pocket or two. Don't know Christina. I see what
you are doing. Some wag might say you are going for a P. The assonance here
does get a little in the way of the poem for me and makes it seem rather
contrived although I think there is a serious poem here being masked by the
chosen vehicle to deliver it.
bw
James
>From: Christina Fletcher <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New sub: Pretend
>Date: Sat, 14 Dec 2002 06:00:59 EST
>
>
>
> Pretend
>
>
> You haven't lost the plot. We won't pursue perception
> or prescribe Prozac.
>
> You have problems: palpitations in your pelvis.
> Pomegranates are pink and full of pips.
>
> Let's proceed on the premise that a planet (probably Pluto)
> is placed in the 'p' position. Pots on planks,
>
> plates of pork and potato. There's a pinch in this
>particular
>patchwork:
> the prerequisite is panic. Pain's the panacea.
>
> Perhaps we're prying? Please,
> we're not pimps or policemen
>
> and it's perfectly plain:
> you're poised on a pin.
>
>
>
>
>
> christina fletcher
>
>
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