L pressed so hard on his bifurcated nib
that it splayed, sending out a shadow script
B's bright text stood up vertically
looping over lines playfully
O's letters raced; ps and qs lost their
bulbousness the longer he went at it
Each of these styles I endeavoured
to replicate for as long as I admired the writer
A's left-handed lurch to the right
required a forearm sprawl
K's tight, neat script anticipated
his composed later life as a dentist
G's letters leapt left and right randomly
Hard to emulate but I gave it a shot
None of the above would have known
what I was up to.
In between adoptions, my own script
tentatived on lined pages until
I latched on to a new cursive hero
to marshal my letters.
Peter Sellers could be any man
but drew a blank at himself
No bareback writer, my ideas
trotted out but needed stirrups.
bw
|