Poetry Sunday 28 February 2016

Another poem from the late Adrian Mitchell, a poem that i feel sure our poetry editor Ira Maine (who has been on leave for some time) would appreciate and perhaps be able to make comment on.

A Girl called Music
A girl called music
She drifts where she’s not allowed.
She can do a soft-shoe-shuffle
On an illuminated cloud.
She’s the imaginary milk maid
To the snorers in city attics.
Her eye is the porthole in the washing machine
In which a coat of many colours does acrobatics —

She makes the bread rise
And the Sun go sideways
My tender submarine
Adores her tideways —