What a blatherskite I must be to have posted 1999 times on here. This is my two thousandth, which I wanted be something special – a smooth sonnet perhaps, in Shakespearean style, or a meaningful villanelle – but ideas have I none.
I looked along my bottom bar – which serves as a notebook for me and found some quirky words lurking, waiting for the right line to hide them: confuddled, reflects my current state; querencia, a happy place from which our strength is drawn, where we can feel at home. But no poem came.
I found the seed of a poem there, too – a start, but so far nothing has grown:
Camels can’t thread needles
So why is the Bank of England
located on Threadneedle Street?
No camels there – only rich men.
image – one of a series of camel embroideries by Jock Blake
This nonsense doesn’t make a poem so these ramblings come to an end with a big thank you to all my followers and readers for your kindly comments over the last three years and to all the prompt sites which kick me into writing so much poetry. Here’s to the next 2000 posts.