The feelings I don’t have, I don’t have.
The feelings I don’t have, I won’t say I have.
D
H Lawrence
What’s the point of cutting them
into bite-sized morsels, easier for
you to digest, less likely to choke.
What use is that to me?
Pack your fancy ideas back up,
return them to the attic of your brain –
you’ve analysed them to death –
then come back down, there’s lots to do:
Run for cover from a hailstorm;
study the screwed-up face
of a newborn as he splutters
his first yell; hold the driver
in a car crash as life leaks out of him;
clink glasses after an all clear; wipe
a surreptitious tear as your daughter,
in white, sings Away in a Manger.
Then tell me you don’t have.
Nicky Phillips
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Nicky Phillips
would be pleased to hear them.
