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So far from mooring safely at the dock
(a hurricane of metaphors at play)
This ship has gone to pieces on the rock

My words refuse to form a tidy flock
They all insist on wandering astray
So far from mooring safely at the dock

This poem’s nothing but a stumbling block
Each word that comes is part of a cliché
This ship has gone to pieces on the rock

The meter likes to halt, stop, check and balk
I’m chasing iambs as they slip away
So far from mooring safely at the dock

And now I have no time for idle talk
It’s live or let live, die or come what may
This ship has gone to pieces on the rock

No Dylan Thomas I, nor Plath – nor Bach
Each syllable’s a struggle all the way
So far from mooring safely at the dock
This ship has gone to pieces on the rock

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