Saturday, 3 August 2013

My shortest poem ever...

After the release of the second shortest poem I have ever written- The Future- I was literally inundated with demands for the shortest poem I have ever written.

Okay, for inundated with demands read several casual enquiries. But they were from people who were either genuinely interested or who could act interested better than anybody else I know. So with that in mind I will be publishing the poem in its epic entirety at the end of this post.
Before I commit the work to the tinterweb I want to give it a two-pronged introduction. I wrote the poem back in the days when I was a young pretentious teenager but I have revisited the poem as part of a much more mature, yet equally pretentious,  body of work. So I will explain a little about the poem in both contexts.

When I wrote the poem it was an introductory poem for another, longer poem, and it was something I, at sixteen, thought was an amusing way of telling people that I was a totally normal teenager (I think at the time I thought I was being original- the older me can only laugh in embarrassment on behalf of younger me).

As an older man- as readers of the blog may know I recently celebrated my twenty first birthday for the fifteenth time and I have been toying with the idea of turning twenty-two- I have been  working on a compendium of poems exploring inequality based on three separate issues- geographical location, age and economic background. The reasons I have focused on these will become clear when (if?) the completed works are ever published. Given how the project has grown it may now be two published works. One exploring the themes and one which is almost a discussion between protagonists.

I have recalled the original poem because I think it will help to highlight the differences between some of the characters. I won't go into that anymore here.

Without further ado may I present to you the shortest poem I have ever written:

My Bed.

My Bed. I love it.

Not my bed, but I think it creates the desired impression of what the mature me is thinking of.

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