I thought I'd share my daily poem with anyone who cares to share it.

I was quite impressed with the amount of poetry in Swindon Central Library. I was able to borrow Anne Stevenson's ' Granny Scarecrow'; a book I had wanted to read for a long time. Her use of image is what strikes, image and sound. The poem 'Oyster' is a brilliant example of this:

'though the oysters that slipped
at atrocious expense
through his pinguid lips,
were poisonous,
and the hock at his elbow
hardly less, ...'

The poem slips through the mind like an oyster down the throat (if you like oysters that is - if not, might make you choke) with its lovely 'i' sounds throughout.