There’s no Poetry Club in my home town of Crewe
So I wonder just what I’m expected to do
With the jumble of words which sit in my head
(there’s always lots more when I lie in my bed)
That simply go round and around and around
Without ever as much as emitting a sound.
I though that maybe I’d find a new friend
Who could help me or guide me towards my new end
Of actually making a poem – one of my own
Instead of just sitting and reading alone.
With the words going round and around and around
Without ever once emitting a sound.
The Library said “Sorry, there is just no facility
For people like you with your lack of ability
Try eight twenty-one; third shelf on the right,
There’s enough there to keep you going all night.”
But I don’t want to read; I wanted to write!
What are the ground rules? What is a metre?
Should I try blank verse –would it sound sweeter?
And I wanted to talk and discuss and review
With people like me who don’t know what to do
With the words going round and around and around
Without ever; not ever, emitting a sound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Perfectly pitched. Sounds really good to this appreciative ear.