Instead of posting a photograph, today I thought I’d post a poem (wot) I wrote during the third part of the Art Of Poetry module I completed earlier last year (2015). I’ve been chatting to another OCA student recently about this part of the course in an attempt at helping her, and revisited the poems (wot) I wrote. I never handed this one in, but after reading it, found I still quite like it.
Hungover
Hunched, she waits.
The burn of last nights’ alcohol streams
and leaves her swollen bladder.
Lank veils of nicotine-infused hair hang –
heavy swags over tired, tight eyes,
gritted, stinging, filling a mind
still spinning with memories
she craves she’d never made.
I really like this Deborah. It gets right inside the head. Been there, done that. Definitely find it’s not worth it these days.
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Thanks Carole – nice to see you over here; yeah, it does get to the nasty smelly, grimy heart of the hangover, doesn’t it? I hated HATED the feeling and I try to avoid it mostly these days. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment 🙂
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