The Artless Bodger's Attempt at an Art Poétique

I shall measure out my life
with spoonfuls of borrowed ideas
and with a pretence of knowing
about this and that and poetry.

 
Just tell me the ingredients of a good poem
and I shall have a go at writing one.
And tell me the right form and shape
so that it looks right on the page,

 

and I will knock it about a bit 
so that the lines end at the right place.
Meanwhile, once more creeps on me the urge
to write and churn it out like this: 

      The jolly verse that off my tongue doth trip
      Maketh all the girls'  hearts to dance and skip...  

But who has powers these days to sit and rhyme?
Sitting and rhyming we lay waste our time.
Or perhaps I'll try another tack: 

 
      On woeful jazz-days like this
      I stand and stare and cannot piss... 

Write like this and they'll throw it back.
'Ere, why don't I try a little nonsense spoof?

      It's late, the cats are howling on the roof,
      My husband will not be home tonight...

 
No, this won't do, the subject's too trite!
What if I hold a short idea between my teeth
like elastic and pull?

 

      Yes but, how far? How far?    
      Far enough's too frightening,
      Far far too frightening,
      Far far too Pascalian, much too far to
      It's a long way to when will I ever ...

 
Write like this and the answer's never!
Well, at least I'm on my guard against self-deceit,
ever since a man did accost me in the street,
and he did insult me with no uncertain greet

 

ing, and ready, I, to go on my

thought how oft doth wisdom cry

out int strasse, a nasty sod he called me und

so me geschtoppt und listund:

he said "Write no tripe in cryptic lang
uage and eschew
                          lousy lines
                                         that just
                                                     hang
together in sepulchral sound
sjust knocked around."

.

Reviews

[Gee]

Love reading you, writing of a standard to aspire to. I will add all to my favourites, read over the course of time and hopefully improve my own writing.
Thank you

[Gerald Parker]

Thanks. This is quite a nasty poem of mine. It is actually my first poem from about 40 years ago. I am old-fashioned enough to believe something is not a poem if it's chopped up prose, no matter how carefully the lines are arranged to make the piece look like a poem.

[Gee]

And I'm afraid to say I'm thick enough not to know the difference :)

[Gerald Parker]

I recommend you google two poems and you'll see the power of poetic language: "The Railway Children" by Seamus Heaney and "Wind" by Ted Hughes.

[Gee]

Thank you..