At dVerse Sanaa is hosting Poetics and exploring the poetic genre looking at the verse epistle.
dVerse Poets – Poetics – Verse Epistle
“Once wealth and beauty are gone, there is always rural life.” Mason Cooley
Shooting The Breeze Dear Jacko, it's been a while, I do hope you and yours are well, still fencing out dingoes I suppose, last we spoke the windmill was like the townies here, lost its bearings, and fallen beyond the pale, I wish I was out there with you, chasing roos and watching twenty-eights, eating wild plums and swimming at the water hole, instead I'm stuck here, it's gone to shit what with all the rules and vacuous fools, galahs, who run the place, oily bastards who bleed that old disease of privilege built on plastic lies and unicorns, like we're entering the promised land, but all we have is alarm clocks, deadlines and rising costs strewn down the asphalt of insane hope, lost in the cobwebs of my mind. I'd love to go on a bit more but I must go mate, I'll let you know when we're coming, just so you can lock up the .22, I might well cock the hammer and shoot the plasma screen. I can hear you laughing, "Silly bugger", let's shoot the breeze instead and, of course, some beers. Well mate, must go, that's stirred me up no end. ©Paul Vincent Cannon
parallax 
True picture of the Mind of a Real Friend!
Nice and Frank!
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Thank you, yes, that real friend, one who won’t judge.
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Love it and perfect title!
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Many thanks Diane.
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Very cleverly written post, Paul.
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Many thanks Janet, I found this one a real challenge as a form.
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😊
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Is this about Meghan and Harry?
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Lol, now there’s a thought, but no, I’m whining about our useless PM and his crew.
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Lovely perfect! Thank you for sharing so true thoughts, Paul! Enjoy the week, and excuse my late revisit. Michael
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Thank you Michael (no need to apologise)
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A true friend you share a beer with.
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😊
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This is absolutely stellar writing, Paul! 💝 I love the tone and pacing here especially; “that old disease of privilege built on plastic lies and unicorns, like we’re entering the promised land, but all we have is alarm clocks, deadlines and rising costs strewn down the asphalt of insane hope.” Thank you so much for writing to the prompt. 💝
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😊
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🙂
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Many thanks Ruth.
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This is Wonderful! My fave pick is “the asphalt of insane hope”…so much in these words…I’m thinking of falls on asphalt, how they sting, abrade the flesh, bleed at least a bit–and it can be the same, falling on insane hope (delayed, denied, reneged).
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High praise indeed, much appreciated – thank you.
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You’re welcome.
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I loved this poem … and I can relate. I wish I had a friend on a deserted island who would invite me for an extended visit … no phone, no internet, no cable … just peace.
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That’s it Jill, the peace, so special. Hope you find a friend like that or an opportunity.
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Enjoyed the descriptions, especially these lines :-
“alarm clocks, deadlines and rising costs
strewn down the asphalt of insane hope,”
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Thank you much for sharing that.
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You are welcome. 🙂
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Thank you Chuck
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Always a pleasure to read and share your posts with followers, Paul!! Have a great day!
😊👍✨✨🎉
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I enjoyed your epistolary poem. It sounds like a visit with Jacko would do the speaker good. (I love the bit about shooting the breeze instead of the plasma screen.)
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Yes, always better to talk it out that fire the gun, so glad you enjoyed this Liz.
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Yeah, there is always rural life. 🙂
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And what better? 🙂
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What a great poem – made me smile and took me back to our outback home
>
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Ah, wonderful.
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