Poetry

  The Thought

It spun it wound it twisted round,

in silver silent raucous sound,

Both bright and sharp and vague and grey,

it came and then it went away.

Suggesting much, it promised nought

unless it could be bound and caught,

and then refined and then adjusted,

moulded ‘til it could be trusted.

Neurons whizzed electrons stalled,

to bring the thought to be recalled.

In vain the flicking memo files

perceived it not through miles and miles

Of image cells and memory stuff,

the picture wasn’t quite enough

to formulate a solid thought

that could be made, and then be bought.

Alas my moment came and went,

my great idea was quickly spent

I knew it would have sailed aloft,

another thing like Microsoft

If only I in sweet repose,

could ‘dream it back’ – then Heaven knows

the world would shower praise indeed,

and satisfy my ego’s need.

But yet it lingers somewhere near,

elusive in its half formed sphere.

There may yet be the ‘blinding flash’,

negating economic crash.

I mourn the loss and rue the way

distraction stole my thought that day

The shining gem that n’ere became

a quarter hour of worldly fame,

It spun it wound it twisted round,

in silver silent raucous sound,

Both bright and sharp and vague and grey,

it came and then it went away!

Nigel Conway Partis - 2009