Poetry: The First Of

This is Perhaps my best poem, it actually was recently Highly Commended in The National Poetry Company, so that must mean there's some merit to it
Also, I feel that I should go in to some description in to what i meant by "Swanny" to describe this - Imagine a Swan sitting on the black, rubbery riverbed by a lake on a dark overcast day; The White of it's feathers has dulled and there are specks of black mud in it's coat; It rises and readies it's heavy, weighted wings to fly, and soon it escapes the struggle of the river bed and soars as you watch and weep -
That's How I'd Describe My Poetry

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This Has No Name (Untitled Was Already Taken)
I am from the vapour of the shirt
I am from the puff puff puff like a calabash
I am from the very thin, burning rim
I am from under the cold tap
I am from the pain that wouldn't go away.

From the door with no knob
From the unused tree house
From tiny cushions home to severe amounts of moss, damp and spiders
From the trampoline covered in the faded petals of a blossom tree.

From the traditional Lamb
From the no lamb on Sunday
From the lying toad
From the escape of a mental home
From my Dad's office
From the standing hare that looked like a dog.

From the union of blood, success and tragedy
All these things I loved dearly,
so odd and on their own.
Home is where the heart is; but first you have to find home.

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What Do You Think? - Has This somehow made my blog somewhat more credible or to your interests? - or just added to the pile of regurgitated shite? -
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