One Poem by Edward Alport

Written in response to this month’s Special Challenge.


How shall I mourn my unborn child?
My never-to-be-born child?
How shall I mark the passing of
A flush of blood?

How shall I engrave the tomb?
A porcelain sarcophagus?
How to explain why I wear black
And wring my hands?

That was the end of optimism;
The time of tears, the death of dreams.
That was the point where you and I
First began the long slow slide to solitude.


Edward is a lecturer and writer, mostly on business and politics. He often posts twittaku (double haiku in 140 characters) on Twitter, plus the occasional political limerick.

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