More poems....

These were all 'inspired' by those from Canon Poets who raised the issue of the shape of a poem as examined as a profile resembling something connected to the subject matter. Each of these poems should resemble the shape of something they are linked to.... I think these are too close to what was presented in the Canon Poets group for me to claim any authorship. I don't think there will be much disagreement though I can't recall who wrote the originals. Please inform me, Canon poets if you read this: who wrote what. Thanks, Steve.

Lump in my throat.
Nearly chucked,

Held it back down,

Managed to keep cool,

Passed her en route to loo,

To the answer, white porcelain

The Niagra with tubes and a chain,

With feeling I couldn’t contain,

With no respect for the drain,

I held it down inside,

I kept it back,

No chunder,

I wonder,

Again?

Overhang
Hanging on for dear life bound in lycra,
Struggling to get up to the edge of the face with limits that only climbers will know,
I hang back as I try to get near to the brink of the underside hanging,
I push with my feet and stretch out for life to get grips,
To have hand holds and smear and scrape,
My feet to the bare face of rocks below,
To understand how my body can,
Function in all this time without,
Knowing a genetic limit like this,
The cliff-face is how we should live,
Deep on the edge of the world,
On the heart of the fringe.
Tied to nothing.

How rude of you.
I don’t know how you can do this to me?
To cause such reaction with nothing but motion,
To move like a cheetah without much commotion,
To look so sexy right up from the soles of your feet,
To then make feel saddened and make my heart beat.
To wander around with such nonchalant swerves,
Which do little more than display your curves,
To make me think I of what I could divulge ,
To all the feeling I have linked the bulge,
In a way that’s just not safe as houses,
The swelling in the front of my trousers.