What's poetic about a foundry worker's son,
Born and bred in Leeds, now idling my time away
In a rinky dink seaside town? What's poetic
About sitting on my laptop reading Facebook
And pressing Like now and then? It's got me typing
Like a modern poet, no rhyme or metre to be seen.
I'm going to (roughly) count the syllables then chop this
Into verses. Then post it on my favourite
Poetry sites, plus my blog.
Perhaps there's poetry in me being a Working Class Boy made good.
In me being a Pro Careers Worker after failing
My Eleven Plus. Even got to Grammar School
For a couple of years. Taught English for six.
The Internet is my Salvation.
Is that prosaic enough for you?
Damn that rhymed! Knowledge and images,
That yet beget… and much more too.
No need to be there in person.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Just Me by Paul Butters )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- "Twist these Big Tits Purple", Richard Thripp
- गोरबो इसिँनिफ्राइ -66, Ronjoy Brahma
- Stories Are Created, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- When Fresh Fish Fails, Richard Thripp
- center, laxami Cards
- गोरबो इसिँनिफ्राइ -65, Ronjoy Brahma
- Im sorry mom, claudia Fernandez
- Witless Innocence, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Sitters And Their Dreams, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- There Is Nothing I Can Do, Lawrence S. Pertillar