This week’s Featured Poet is Gareth Trew
Gareth Trew is twenty-one years old and generally lives in a state of great confusion. He has been writing for most of his life, but only seriously for the past year; he currently has a few publications to his name. As well as creative writing, Gareth is also keenly interested in the performing arts, particularly acting. He is likewise an avid reader and can often be found with his nose in a book and a cup of tea in his hand — especially when he ought to be doing something more productive. If for some reason you’d like to contact Gareth, he can be reached via his highly imaginative e-mail address, email@example.com
The Constant(ly) Desert(ed)
Pour warm water
into my poor, parched mouth.
Let it run along my tongue – leathery with longing –
then down my dusty throat;
down and down and down until
finally, it begins to fill me.
Oh! What a moan
the instrument would make!
I’d shake this blistered ground with gratitude;
I’d river the sand with tears of glee…
…but you, too,
lack even a thimbleful;
are only a madman’s mirage.
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