I’m not being funny or nothing –
Are you sure this is poetry?
My mate Susan said I should come
To the poetry thingy.
She was like “It’ll be a right laugh
Seeing all those poncy prats
Wittering on about nightingales and daffs”
And I was like “All right then,
But if it’s pants I’m off to the pub
And I’m not even kidding.”
And now look at this lot –
Him on the stage now, he looks proper rough
And he doesn’t talk posh or use big words at all
And the woman before him who looked like my nan
Went on about dildos though she must be near eighty
And I was like ‘Is she even allowed to say that?’
Hardly any of it rhymes –
Poetry’s supposed to rhyme, innit?
And now there’s some kid on the mike, can’t be older
Than nineteen or twenty,
Angry as hell, and ready
To take on the world, it seems like.
Don’t know if it’s poetry
But it’s making me cry
And I’m not even lying.
Notes: Today’s prompt, about spoken language and the way language sounds, prompted me to think about the way people often think poetry ought to sound (and how poets ought to look and act).