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Anywhere But Here

by Sparrow_splitter 

Posted: 10 March 2004
Word Count: 83
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In the cool of the evening,
my spirit grows.
Alone at last
Just me and the world.
Alone at last
I can be myself;
miserable and belligerent,
the same as before.

At least out here,
I can think in peace
but my mind,
it tends to wander.
Pretty soon
I'm chasing an owl,
throwing rocks at the moon,
or swimming upstream
with the stupid trout.
Before I know it,
It's time to go back
And in the dead of night,
my spirit goes.






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Comments by other Members



Fearless at 13:36 on 11 March 2004  Report this post
About bloody time you posted something sparrow. I like this a lot, mainly because it's honest - there's no pretension here:

'I can be myself;
miserable and belligerent,
the same as before.'

Some feelings I also strongly identify with:

'I'm chasing an owl,
throwing rocks at the moon,'

Another cool lyric.

fearless

P.S. Where are the midgets?
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Sparrow_splitter at 00:16 on 12 March 2004  Report this post
Cheers fearless. I have not been writing much recently, been too busy. I thought it was you who was going to write an epic poem about midgets and grease. How about having a midget riding a pig in it too. Brandishing a trident. Singing sweet caroline. Just an idea.
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dr_mandrill at 15:34 on 23 March 2004  Report this post
You know what I think? I think this would really work well as the narrative of a short film. You’d have Mariella Frostrup or Sir Derek Jacobi or someone like that reading the poem, whilst the film showed a man in a crumpled suit. with three or four days worth of stubble staggering around all breathless and frantic in a smoky wood. He should look around suspiciously a lot and scream at random things like dog dirt. Find someone with a digital camera and make it happen.

Dm

P.S. Derek Jacobi Owes me a favour.
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