poetry critical

online poetry workshop


“In the beginning was the word
and the word was usually in Anglo-Saxon,”
the guest speaker says.
His material is rich,
there is a cornucopia of corpuses
of manuscripts to analyse.
Enough to fill a lifetime.
His hands are papery white
and his skin leathery
and, like King Alfred,
he decries the current generation
for the academic degradation.
One of those old white men,
frustrated how his life’s work
is overshadowed now by his body,
his privilege and position,
how his voice is fading,
stained under the hostile environment.
He is typeset, or so we think,
but had hidden pages,
in a swooping experimental hand,
long ago.
He is manuscript now,
narrating his contribution to history
to ungrateful faces,
who will digitalise him.

9 Jan 18

Rated 9 (9) by 1 users.
Active (1): 9
Inactive (0):

(define the words in this poem)
(191 more poems by this author)

(1 user considers this poem a favorite)

Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha