casagrande's Rain Of Poetry

The poetry bombing on the South Bank this evening was beautiful and chaotic. As the poems fell from the helicopter, they looked at first like butterflies, then a murmuration of starlings, and finally like glittering, dancing helicopter seeds. Once they landed I felt a slight pang of disappointment as they became just paper again. Their fleeting magic lost until you read the poetry printed on them.

I found whole flocks of them on my way to get the bus home. I picked them up, read them and then tried to give them away to the people I passed as I walked along. A few of them stopped and asked what it was all about and seemed enchanted by the idea of  poems that had fallen from the sky. They walked away smiling, clutching their "sky poem"

Most people, however, were uninterested and unmoved. They looked at me as if I were mad and it was catching. I found that incredibly sad. (Mind you, I had a huge happy grin on my face and may have looked a little bright eyed and feverish. Also, it probably didn't help that I kept referring to them as "sky poems")

So now I have many tens of beautiful poems to give away. Maybe tomorrow I can raise some smiles, with their help.