This is MY (1st) poem

This Is MY poem

This is MY poem
And it is primitive like me
Born from a base passion
Like hugging a tree

It's not studied or clipped
Like the masters or the great
It won't rhyme for much of the time

The meter will be left running
And the words will tumble forth
With the jerking lurching motion of a black cab
On the Euston road at 5pm

It will scan worse than
The barcode readers of the self serve
Checkouts of Asda and Tesco.
Your eyes will waft across the page many times
In frustration before any satisfying beep
Can ever be heard.
The bagging area will be well and truly devoid of items

It's point will be dull like the overworked
Pencil of a furtive three year old
Attacking a page of A4 with the hopes of
A face appearing. Meticulously drawn line will tumble in
To a slate grey wash of frustration

It will however be MY poem
Born from mine head in the midst of this night
it popped into being. it chose me and I loved it enough
To sit forward and tap it out swiftly
On my iPad.