Posted by: janetleigh | October 17, 2016

A stertorus audience turns a deaf ear: A Stour Guy’s Preamble

Maybe it starts small
then festers,
a slight here a slight there,
then pesters
presses on,
grows to fill the insides
the way air pumps up balloons,
contained yet unrestrained
when let go.

It’s senseless,
who has the time.

All this, within the body balloon,
blood-red corpuscles run the race
course with fuel-ups at Jugular
& Aorta Avenues,
avoiding Stroke Station
like a bat out of hell – but
wait! what a wreak! leaving nothing but
burn-out wearing a purple face.

It’s so senseless
who has the time.

Its consumption can kill you,
obsession steal from you,
turn you inside out
throw you for a loop
end over end over end,
over and over and over again.

It’s so senseless
who has the time.

Stoking the ever-burning fire,
anger and revenge become you,
when hate is life’s only desire
who would want to dwell in
a place so base.

It precludes love, tenderness, woman
and wife,
a heat-seeking missile
like attracts like,
hate has sharp eyes and a tongue like a knife.

It’s senseless,
who has the time.


lob your linguistic smart bombs,
I hope you find yourself.


Copyright © 2016 by Janet Leigh.  All rights reserved.


  1. Superb!
    Kind regards
    Anna :o]

    • Is that you my loyal friend Anna? I can’t begin to explain the last 5 years:-) There’s not enough time and not enough space to cover something that would make any kind of sense; it’s a stream of consciousness. Thank you for stopping by! I’m writing again.

  2. Nice work. Your poem has rhyme. I like it. Keep it up. I also write poems. I have a blog, name is Aria Vibes. Please check it out. I hope you will like it. Link is
    From-Praddyumn Kulshreshtha

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