A Facebook status from poet friend Martin Hodges (thanks, Martin!) inspired this posting. It's a poem written as the result of a poetry exercise I did somewhere, in some place, at some point, with someone. It may have been the result of a session on memory or reminiscence but I don't remember that either. Errrr - what did I come upstairs for?
Martin was saying there are many things he likes the idea of doing, such as climbing Kilamanjaro. I'm the same.
(I also fancied borrowing an idea from Piaf and calling this Je Regret Loads, but it's not really a comedy poem.)
I have never worn a ball-gown which sparkled under chandeliers
or eaten grilled sardines while watching a Mediterranean sunset.
Nor have I dived.
I have never climbed a snowy slope while attached to a rope and friend
or danced the quick-step, the tango, the waltz or the rumba.
Nor have I read ‘Gigi’.
I have never climbed into the basket of an air balloon
or thrown blue-patterned, cracked china at a wall just for the hell of it.
Nor have I sipped oysters from shells,
nor drunk tequila with my head thrown back.
at least once,
I said I would do all of these things
What do you regret not having done? Yet. Leave a comment and tell me.
PS If one of the things you haven't done yet is to read 'Being Miss', my novella in which Miss's rollercoaster teaching day finds her in all kinds of trouble, it's free on Kindle for the next few days right here You could take it up Kilamanjaro with you.
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