The Pygmy Giant

by Richard Barrett

this first line came to me waiting for the bus in Eccles,
opposite the wetherspoons
(the idea for the rest of the poem fell into place pretty
quickly
(although I wasn’t to pick up a pen again for three days
(and only then after discussing the idea with my mate
(taking his bafflement as a sign of encouragement I
resumed)
I worked very hard on this line
this line too also took a lot of effort
(I couldn’t make my mind up about it
(I read it and reread it several times, before deciding
it was okay)
I worked very hard on this line
(although really it was just an earlier line which i’d
cunningly reused)
I worked less hard on this line
(I thought I’d ask someone at work for some input
(then I decided I wouldn’t)

*

showing the finished poem to a few people
here and there
the consensus seemed to be
it isn’t so much a poem
more just a list of

shoes

Richard Barrett likes to listen to The Fall and drink Stella Artois. His blog can be found here.