I'm Your Man
listening to Cohen
on my old record player
I remember our first argument
about tea and oranges
in an old Victorian shelter
peeling green
and rusty red
next Perch Rock
It wasn't
that I found Cohen
a bad poet
in my arrogant youth
I sensed a rival
needing destruction
under a cold blue sky
resonant with screeching gulls
as we walked
hand in hand
prize won
unbeknownst to her
I could hear
Leonard reprimanding me
for using his poetry
for such base means
or was he
quietly
chuckling?
Poetry by Peter Humphreys
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Written on 2012-03-08 at 09:50
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Texts |
by Peter Humphreys Latest textslifethe grey green sea emboldened beyond beyond we knelt |
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