Saturday, 24 April 2010

This little life

'The daily round, the common task',

alas, don't 'furnish all I ask'.
I cannot sleep, I overeat:
this little life's relentless beat.
(perhaps that last word should be bleat)


alembic said...

Great image -- the folded arms, the lack of eyes and mouth, all of it petrified -- for this poem,


marja-leena said...

Yes, as alembic said... and 'bleat' says it better.