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Flashback 2012: My first poem – be gentle with me.

For the past few months I have been trying to learn how to write one.

I made a breakthrough last week when I had produced my first ever short story as part of my assessment, which will be published in the fullest of time.   Following a response from my tutor, who will be scrutinising the piece with an intense scrut ( circ Spike Milligan 1950 something).

Whilst I have been waiting for the dreaded marks to be posted, my quest to become a creative writer, producing fancy words and assembling them in a reasonable order, has taken a step in a new direction as I start to learn the ins and outs of poetry.

If you have read the other entries, you will know too well my feelings about poetry.   Going back to my school days, I regarded it as the best cure for insomnia .   But in this course, I had to put behind any “prejudices” and learn the tools of the poetic trade.

So I decided the best course of action was to go down the same route that made me eventually tolerate “Hamlet” and coffee.

Orignally published 

I sat taking in as much of it as I could until it became an acquired taste.    With Hamlet it was a five hour slog, with coffee that was easier. That was five minutes.

One of the thing that changed my outlook on poetry was a video that was produced by a young man who looked like a rapper, but showed a modern approach to poetry.    C

He said that if you have any feelings ( hate, anger, love, feeling sorry for yourself, etc – I have plenty of those), then you can write poetry,  if you don’t have any feelings , then you are dead.

It might sound straight to point, but surprise surprise  – It worked !!!

I have composed my first every poem. ( Stands back in shock !)

Considering I am a guy who looked on poetry as an alternative to sleeping tablets, I am reasonably chuffed with what  I have produced  as a first attempt.  But when you read it, you will be able to detect the cynicism flowing through it

It has been enough to inspire me to develop a style of my own.

Here is the point when you scroll down and check out the finished results for yourselves.   Remember I am poetic virgin, so please gentle with me.

What is the point in poetry?
Some people think it is Art.
It’s nothing but endless romantic tosh,
Written by boring old Farts.

What is the thrill of Burns and Shakespeare,
Men from two different lands.
Producing pages of meaningless prose,
That no Bugger understands.

“Poetry is all about emotion,” they say.
The stuff that makes you feel alive.
But did Shakespeare ever experience the joy,
Being stuck on the M25.

“So write one of your own,” they said.
“Search the web for some inspiration”
I ploughed through “You Tube”, Spam and even some Porn,
It just added more sleep deprivation.

I checked out news stories for more ideas,
Features on Environment, Politics and Crime.
I even tried to write about Bankers,
But couldn’t find a clean word to rhyme.

Hey hang on!  I’ve just written five verses.
So I must be doing something right.
It’s not a Pulitzer, but it’s still a poem.
Finally I get some sleep tonight.

Frank McGroarty (Anti Poet)