Millennial Canto 4 Poem by Sally Evans

4 (ii)
The cry went up: there; s someone here
from Television! Bend your ear,
ambitious slut and pushy guy,
the television talent-spotter,
back-row spy with pen and jotter,
pen and jotter back-row spy!
Pandemonium ensued,
pandemonium and pseud!
Buy my pretty manuscript -
oh, my shoulder strap just slipped,
catch him quick before you're pipped,
write your number on his blotter,
mine's the stuff, I'll tell you why;
all I understand is I.
Forty scribblers pushed and tripped,
twenty bawlers roared round Alfred,
twenty simperers pestered Pearl,
watch them grovel till you curl.
Is this how the boards are filled,
how celebrities get billed?
Has this anything to do
with rhyme and metre, sound and stress,
measure melody and letter?
Is a bishop any better
than the median of his flock?
Suffer not from writer's block.
Cinderellas try a shoe,
cut their feet off till they fit it.
Stuff the truth, they won't admit it.
Who's the Prince that charms them? Who?
And do they see the glittering prize
a fierce mirage before their eyes?
Only a cad would criticise.
Too many poets spoil the broth.
A poem is not a tammy cloth
embroidered by a piece time worker
and most of all the poet's no shirker
of ploys the muses recognise.