Make sure you don’t miss out on this beautiful poem ‘Teetering on Edges’. The author is unknown for this poem – it featured in our open mic night during National Poetry Day. If this is your poem and you’d like to claim it – please get in touch and let us know who you are!
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Teetering on Edges
A river singing
and burbling over small settlements of stone,
dancing its froth around pebble eyots,
brushing past whistling grasses stalking their plot
with enduring, resilient strength
bubbles rise to greet our air
mixing our daily lives with its watery, travelling silt
Does it push
or does it pull with might?
The water, drawing, and with its own breath,
prancing, laughing, chatters along in sweeps and ripples that
gather in the oneness of the river over the tumbling rocks,
own take from far-off secrecies;
joined, enjoined, dammed:
dammed becausing pace, enjoining volume, and joined
by forces that
Blown up from surfaces
heaped into clouds
A part of this river has been carried beyond
my realm of dreaming
Somewhere, land has risen
Somewhere, this transformed waters have been called upon to descend again
descending under the guise of variety.
Swift in transition: languid drizzle,
or a mean shower of rain,
or harsh in a storm
like a torrent in energised wave
in concert with
earth and fire and air
with the emotions we procure, that we process
that we spew, like you
with your head of steam,
you, with your cool underbelly,
wizened by bearded zeal,
or Aunt Petunia at the age of eighty
leaping and skipping
with a laughing grandson who loves his wellies.
We breathe it, love it, eat it, sneeze it,
waste it, need it, pipe it, curse it, have it, store it:
Yet, even so, we even argue over it.
So many things to so many beings
And qualitious in the very nature it creates.
It teeters and wavers on the edge of yet another form.
Today it dribbles from the end of my nose;
it feels as though this should be October.