Dragging Myself Over A Hurdle.

Dead on arrival, damned to hell

Deprived of dedication and deathly afraid

Looking for a place,

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Like Dar es Salaam, heard in a song,

or Didcot, where my office is; Debenhams Highcross.

Meaning? Not a lot.

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I could do better, I could do worse

I could talk about dancing, or drinking, or deals,

I’m missing appeal.

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I’m tired. Is that enough said?

I’ve got better things to do, but I told myself

to fill the bookshelf.

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This short poem was written as part of the ‘Alphabet Superset‘ programme: it is quick work and is unedited. This week I wrote two poems: you decide which is better.