"Poem Re-Born"

Shelf by shelf
Stack by stack
Poetic needle
In a haystack
Destined to be
Car boot sale
Bric-a-brac.
I'd be a liar
If I didn't imagine
A book of my own
But hate the thought
Of it being left alone.
One such pamphlet
I've just read
By Bridget Hobbs
This is what she said:

"the fight started at seven-thirty
in an empty pub on rectory road:
he nudged her drink out of her hand
after calling her an ugly cow for
the last time and she slipped
her knife sweetly between his ribs
touching his liver like a feather.
he didn't drink for sometime after."

Her little booklet
Has had no-one borrow
Such a sad stat
Fills me with sorrow.
That was the poem
That caught my eye
Hand on heart
I can't tell you why.
But it's terribly sad
It's not been read
Left on the shelf
Languishing for dead.
I am glad I picked it up
And gave it a moment of my time
So it could have a second childhood
Through my rhyme.
In years to come
I'd love to fill a book
But what would be the point
If nobody looked?
It would break my heart
And tear me apart
For a work of mine
To languish away
Echoing the sad life
I have today.

Dulwich Poet 23rd August 2013

(I read a small poetry pamphlet, 'Shafting The Kids' by Bridget Hobbs, published by Goblin Press in 1992. I found it on the shelves at the Poetry Library. I read it there, and it has NEVER been issued. I hope she never finds out, as it must feel such a waste of effort to have nobody read it.The poem I copied from it ,above in italics, was called 'Featherlite')