Colin Dardis

Breathless

Being a poet

involves a lot of drifting around

and waiting for poetry to happen.

Do painters feel the same,

hanging out at the White Canvas bar,

stood up by Art again?

Do thinkers go for a drink, only to find

philosophy has cut off their supply?

Other writers get the block,

but my pen is dipped and all I need

is a significant moment

in which to find

the breath of my profession.