Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard

28 11 2014

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Tell me your tasks in order:
list them listlessly
in stuttering staccato,
the squared silence saturating
every cloistered chore.

Bleach the affection
from your midnight routines,
scrape a space each-
a grave scratching of a plot
beside my breaking coldness.

I will peninsula this dark
and you will be my coves, my sea,
beachcombing the lonely bays
of this marriage together.
Tell me your taks in order.

This poem was written following a request at the ‘Poetry Takeaway’ event at the Gregynog Festival. A ten minute poem based on the event organiser’s necklace bearing the quotation of the first and last lines.

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4 responses

28 11 2014
mjnath

Thanks for the poem, Glyn. I was trying to remember her name only yesterday, and you’ve called it up!

All the best,

Michael

28 11 2014
glynfedwards

I’d watched the BBC version of the play only the week before, yet I had to leave the poem untitled as the double barrel escaped me; an embarrassing outcome after a productive ten minutes!

20 12 2014
erikleo

Good poem. Thanks for checking out my blog.

20 12 2014
glynfedwards

thanks, i liked your poem about the secrets inside us.

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