I was on a quite long (over 5 minutes) train journey today. I had time to read my Kindle, play games on my phone, listen to my favorite music, email, text, watch Minions. Whatever.
So what did you do?
I looked at, and watched, clouds.
Clouds are brilliant. They change all the time. Sometimes they’re white. Sometimes they’re black. No PC culture with clouds. Hell, they might be gay for all I know.
I can’t possibly say anything new about clouds. Turner painted them. Wordsworth wrote about them. Songs have mentioned them or been written about them – John Lennon, Kate Bush, The Orb, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Rolling Stones to mention but a few.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
No you bloody didn’t. There’s loads of them.
So, I thought, what could I possibly, as a writer and sometimes poet, contribute to the topic of clouds?
Simple. A poem.
But what? The feeling of hope and well-being when the sun breaks through them? The dragons and sheep I saw within them? The sense of despair when they darken, not evaporate to display blue skies ahead?
No. What I have produced is this. A simple four word ode to clouds and what they mean to me. I have titled it, simply, Clouds. I present it here for you. I hope you realise how much courage, depth and honesty it took to produce these four, lonely, words …
Clouds – A poem
Clouds. I like them.