Posted by: David Harley | July 6, 2013


A pint of bitter
at the time of writing
costs 89p.

One night scribbling
in time with the jukebox
may yield some scraps of verse and lyric
or nothing but frustration
and warmed-over bitterness.

Is the harvest worth the sowing
At 89 pence a pint?

The eye observes
The mind analyses
or retrieves long-buried data
the pen rapes virginal paper
the feet trip over each other at closing time

Is the harvest worth the reaping
at 89 pence a pint?


Published in Vertical Images 3, 1988. Copyright David Harley, 1977. Written, if I remember correctly, in a pub in Maida Vale soon after I moved to London in the wake of a disastrous love affair that killed off my nursing career. And that’s as much as I’m likely to tell you about that…


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