Left In The Dark Poem by Ian Bowen

Don’t you just hate it,
when you read a poem
and you do not understand
a bloody word?
These defamiliarisers, who write
and bombard us Children of a Lesser God
with unfamiliar images
that squeeze the cells
and hurts like hell;
leaving poor souls
to sink in their own inability,
fighting to glean some kind of sense
from talking mountains
and some experience that only
an individual poet once felt.

No!

It must be only me then?