Now here’s untrodden ground. I’ve found Wonderful WordPress’s new way of allowing you to import images, but the only way you can do it is quoting the URL, assuming you have it. So this comes out here as gobbledegook and if it stays as gobbledegook, for which I do not apologise as it may inspire someone.
I went to a local open mic (why not open mike?) in Colchester. I read some of my stuff and listened to some superb poetry, much from people who were not regulars and had one short minute. There was a lead performer, a political poet with a rap style – very talented, but I prefer my politics delievered at a slower pace so I can think about it and even disagree.
At a late stage – or it may have been the interval – my attention wandered enough for me to jot down two very different short poems. Here they are.
I SHALL MEET HIM
This man I should meet, I don’t understand him well
He speaks a different language, almost, to my own
I cannot see his face. I do not know if he still has his hair
Or how he walks at all or if he sees. I do know his name
And (this is boring for a story) what happens to him next.
He dies. He was a human; he loved birds and rivers,
The sea, the stars, even the starless dark.
We are connected, somehow, by the years.
I was a voracious child for books
I read the preface, notes, index if any and the rest.
The editors thanked Mr J.B. Priestley for permission
And also the executors of Robert Louis Stevenson.
He died quite young. I knew the reason: they cut his head off
These executors. Not being a Catholic I hadn’t come across
People being canonised.