You may have noticed (though, probably not) that the once-regular Poem of the Week has disappeared for the past couple of months. This is primarily due to my general disillusionment with poetry following a Creative Writing Masters degree -- whatever they might try to teach or tell you, it seems the 'poetry establishment' (if there is such a thing) is just as elitist and pretentious as it appears from the outside. I had no aspirations to 'break in' to poetry, but I was prepared to enjoy reading and writing it for my own entertainment. Both of these activities have been damaged, rather than encouraged, by my course.
As such, Poem of the Week is no more. But here's one final entry; one that captures some of my feelings about poetry, not only in its content but also with its light, readable style. There's a reason poets like McGough are well-known and well-loved beyond just the world of poetry itself, and perhaps some of the people stuck in that world would do well to remember it.
I like a good poem
one with lots of fighting
in it. Blood, and the
clanging of armour. Poems
against Scotland are good,
and poems that defeat
the French with crossbows.
I don't like poems that
aren't about anything.
Sonnets are wet and
a waste of time.
Also poems that don't
know how to rhyme.
If I was a poem
I'd play football and
get picked for England.
Cheerio.
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