|
SENTINEL POETRY #26 Online Magazine Monthly, January 2005 |
|
RORY MILLER Another
bunch of words (or Why Settle For Virtual Reality?) Poetry my arse! Show me, please – just
show me – A collection of words More moving than a mountain, A verse more humorous Than an hour with friends, or One stanza –
that’s all I ask – More stimulating, engrossing,
And altogether enthralling, Than you, laying here, alive. Poetry, schmoetry! It’s just a bunch of
quacks, Friendless degenerates, Socially awkward eggheads, Lost in worlds of meaningless
words, Unable to make life work, Retreating into a pale
imitation of it, Justified by passion and
feeling, This need to express, And other such childish
traits. Give me life! Give me conversation! Give me interaction,
involvement, Silence, and laughter. It’s true, I may have
tittered once, At some amusing verse, but It was nothing compared to
the joy I feel In my moments with you. Except when you talk about
poetry, That is. United
States In travels through a mighty
land, Endless wonders touched these
eyes; The Mars-red Utah desert
sand; Cathedral dome Montana skies Stretch to Rocky’s
knife-sharp peaks, Prevailing over grasslands
low, Vast as painted canyons deep, How formed and shaped, no man
may know. But the greatest thing I ever
saw, In this hard world is hardly
found; It shakes, and takes man to
his core, It deifies the very ground. It came one night in kitchen
plain, A small bright dancing
blue-edged flame. Rory
Miller, aged 28, studies English & American Lit & Creative Writing at
the University of Kent in Canterbury. |