I've been quiet all week, you may have noticed, work pressure is one thing because the Cheltenham Screenwriters Festival clashes with the next release of the website and I have to get stuff done a week earlier.
Yes I do that sometimes. How about my shortest poem in the world?
I think I've posted that before - but it's quick. How about this one...
When her hand brushed mine, time
Caught its breath and the memory of it stuck
Like bubblegum, sweet and sticky and overpowering.
Forbidden thoughts welled up, ideas
That could not live in the day flooded in
And I drowned in their sweet, sticky ecstasy.
It is not love, cannot be love, how
Can I love you, the object of man's desire
And I am just a sweet, sticky friend of a friend.
But the thought of it, the taste of it, the
Fire, the heat and the burning desire–from a touch
Of your hand, that gentle brush that flames in my mind.
Next time, next time I will stretch out, my hand
Will touch yours and the heat that is mine will toast
Your desire and your sweet and sticky world will be mine.
Best read out loud paying particular attention to punctuation and line endings - I write them to be spoken because I hear them as I put them down.
Anybody else got some kicking around that need airing?
What's on the turntable? "The Speak-Up Mambo" by The Manhattan Transfer from "Anthology"