Small Things Poem by Tony Noon

Fizz and Bang we called it.
Revolving around each other
like binary stars they drew
the curriculum across the year.

My ignorance of fizz made
quite a bang when I failed
to record the temperature
of a blue bunsen flame.

Our lack of other knowledge
let us play bench top games
with mercury balls before we
rolled them haphazardly into

bins, not caring for the effects
of cause which would cordon
and control us now. For sure
there would be prices to pay.

Exiled outside the classical,
I dwelt in alternative streams
where language fuels absurdity
and images hide true meaning.

When I write now of nuts
there may be bigger pictures
but step back and look again.
Small things always happen.


Tony Noon