PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Aha, yes; a furrowed landscape of pink,
With capillary systems of valleys,
And basins deep as the kitchen sink,
Across which sail nervy glass-galleys.

And at the centre of the candyfloss,
At the centre of it all,
Stands tall a rosy factory across.

A sleek, compact,
Nodular design it has; it rises stack’d
With domes, triangles, dodecahedrons,
Diamond and crystal in all of its regions.

A purpose for this factory
It can be said to have.
It bangs and wheezes, shudders and squeaks,
Like brassy, old, Victorian antiques.

The process is a complex one,
A complex one indeed;
There are no guarantees of fun,
And none predict that you succeed. Sometimes,
It slides smoothly as silver swans, others
Stuff gets clunky. Stilted. A bit forcèd (forsooth), and
You have to rein it in.
You have to compromise.
You have. To slow. It down.
(You have to promise lies).

One thing’s for sure, it’s a tricky topic,
Forging this, with detail microscopic.
Gotta keep the metre, gotta keep this
Beat, gotta rhyme the line: you have to keep
Your feet.

And then the product rolls out of the doors,
Perhaps as serene as a meniscus.
Or, quirky; sweating, like a crack addict,
A thing that could never last the distance.

And as it flies away the factory
Sits content. More work remains to be done.
This may be pink, yet weighs more than a tonne.