Just reading an article about poetry and verse
And how the words in order to rhyme you must nurse
Into shapes and patterns sometimes less than the norm
In order that your poetry indeed should take form.

It’s not all about rhyming, that’s for sure
Rhymes like wot I write are just a little cure
For the injustices of life, the injustices in football
And I make them rhyme because that is my call.

But poetry is not all about the phonics
It should transcend such things and reach histrionics
It’s about flow and rhythm and unbridled outpour
Giving your inner feelings and oh, so much more.

The passion, the emotions, the agony, the pain
Should sit there bold upon the paper’s plane!!!

And then I thought again and… and… naaaaah
It’s all a load of bollocks I thought of in the car.

I get emotions and agony and pain going to Spurs
Don’t need to read someone else’s second-hand verse
Inspired, doubtless, by the veins on the leaf of a cedar tree
Or the petals of a rose; that really ain’t me

I’ve never bought a poetry book, not in my life
Not even on Valentines as a gift for the wife
I like to read stories with beginning, middle and end
Not the random thoughts of some trans-gender architect going round the bend.

So even as I stare out at my rhododendron bush
In bloom as every year, in something of a rush
I don’t feel inner inspiration flowing up my sleeves,
Just minor despair at later clearing up the fucking leaves.

Poetry indeed does have its rightful place
On the shelves of a library, in its proper allocated space
So I can walk round it on the way to the section for ‘literary trash’
Someone else’s emotional masturbation might leave me with a rash.

As far as I’m concerned a poem should always rhyme
Otherwise you wouldn’t know it was a poem, half the bloody time
Heart-felt this and depths of the soul that
Anyone writing poetry must be a bit of a twat.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx