One of the worst things at school was my poetry anthology.
It is a good job that Stabilo don’t make sharp highlighters because hours of analysing Simon Armitage and Carol Ann Duffy is enough to make any 15 yr old want to slit some part of their body.
I just don’t like those poems which are there to try and make you feel shocked or impress a point upon you. Every time I just end up thinking how up themselves the poet is for thinking that our minds would be so easily manipulated in such a way.
Poetry is different to other literature. Poems put far more importance on the actual words. Each word is there on a completely voluntary basis and there are generally far fewer words in a poem that a novel. As a result, I find poems really pretentious because each and every sound is there for purpose and meaning. Furthermore, if you don’t understand why it’s there, then you are clearly a lower quality human being.
And then, while studying Geography, I find out that they have assigned a ‘poet-in-residence’ to my department. Now, in her defence, she was lovely and was not there through funding of my tuition fees, but the stuff she was coming out with really made me question the academic justification of it.
I’m sure it is all lost on me but I just think poems are for entertainment over knowledge development.
But embracing something I don’t enjoy that much is a good thing to do. Writing my simple little poem was surprisingly real fun. I wrote it about an experience that occurs every morning for me, trying to use rhythm and tempo to influence the way the poem is read and how it might compare with my heart beats…
7.45
Dad bade farewell in a shout
i’ll brush my teeth then im out
out of the house on the road
and then i reach panic mode
400 yards I need to gain
if i want to board the train
success is fine in such an assualt
without the legs of usain bolt
I round the bend disaster strikes
forgot to bring my flapjack bites
no time to turn and grab the food
even if it improved my mood
Freshly combed hair fell out of place
as another commuter joined my chase
at this point my heart does pound
due to the locomotive braking sound
I turn at the steps with a powerslide
I see rapidly scrolling green, grey and white
this rush of such colour comes to a stop
the bleeping doors part allowing people to hop
aboard this vessel that boasts such modesty
considering its role in running the economy
I slow my pace my job is done
I have to admit it is quite fun
I take my throne by the side of my father
whose bemused smile beamed at me rather.
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
