Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
but I couldn’t remember who said it.
Knowing I’d kept it as one of a whole list of poetry-associated quotations, I searched my computer for hyacinths.
It turns out it was Carl Sandburg, though further investigation online suggests he may actually have used the subtly different phrase:
poetry is the achievement of the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
The search for hyacinths also turned up the forgotten draft of a poem.
I have tinkered with it a little, but am still dissatisfied. Perhaps it needs more biscuits. Perhaps I need more coffee.
Beyond the hedge
A wall of leyland cypress shields
the neighbours’ gardenIn spring, the scent
of hyacinths seeps
between greenSummer echoes
with splashing water;
glasses clink and voices
rise in laughterAutumnal winds
toss butterfly-bright leaves
gusting in joyful
skyward spiralsWood ash flecks
yellow bonfire smoke
scarving chill airEvergreen sparkles
heavy with the dull weight of snow.
don't confuse the narrator 
One thought on “a lack of biscuits”