I’m a Bloody Poet Now!

 I wrote this little poem about being, or rather becoming a poet. Once you get started it can be a bit addictive. This one is written for performance and starts off as if I am speaking at a meeting of “Poets Anonymous”
Teasel photographed in Mum’s garden

 Hello,
I’m Seamus,
And I’m ….
A poet

No, please don’t look at me like that
I won’t shout, or snap, or bite
Its just that sometimes I suffer
From an awful urge, to write

I don’t know when it started
And I don’t remember how
But some words just came together
And I’m a bloody poet now

I don’t have to write another
I’m always in control
Just a short one and then I’ll stop
Yes! I’m getting stronger now

Just a couple of lines
Now surely that can’t hurt
My God its miles past Midnight now
Ah! just a couple more

I think I hit rock bottom
And truth stared me in the face
I just couldn’t keep from writing
But I couldn’t stand the pace

All that poetry makes you think
And look at things too hard
And describe every tiny detail
The minutiae of life

The answer lies in writing prose
No more counting syllables
Chapters instead of verses
The twiddly bits all gone

No need to read out loud
To make it sound just right
Not panicking so much when
The bleedin’ words don’t fit, quite like they might

I think I’m making progress
The rhyme is long since gone
But the damn thing’s still got rhythm
So I’m standing here tonight

I don’t know when it started
And I don’t remember how
But some words just came together
And I’m a bloody poet now