I love poetry; I always have.
Even when I was a child I was totally fascinated by the rhythm and flow of poems and learned many ‘by heart’ …..whether it was ‘homework‘ or not …… lol !
In those dark and distant schooldays we were lucky enough to receive the sort of interesting, all-round education, that included masses of ‘general knowledge‘ and also basic appreciation of writers, playwrights and poets, that modern youngsters do not seem to have. At least, not unless they ‘specialise‘ in the relevant subjects and even then I have met University graduates who majored in English Literature and yet do not know that Dickens wrote ‘The Old Curiosity Shop‘…..something that I found absolutely unbelievable.
So, when I was 8 or 9, I was enjoying the poems of Robert Frost, John Betjeman and Walter de la Mere …..then moving on to Shelley and Keats and all the other wonderful poets that I adore. I was in heaven …..though I realise that not all of my classmates felt the same !
But ….and this is a flipping well great big BUT with bells on ……. I can’t write decent poetry. If you were to offer me the weight of my arse (another big butt) in gold, I still couldn’t do it. Nope …..the best I can manage is a silly poem ….well more of a nonsense rhyme, really.
And, to prove my point, here is one I wrote a while ago.
With the Winter months fast looming
And my deep concern for grooming
And generally keeping very fit.
I decided that I oughta
Take advice from my daughter
And resist the urge to do nothing but sit.
There’s a place down by the Humber,
That does ‘Boxercise‘ and ‘Zumba‘,
So I phoned them and joined up, on the spot.
But before I could get busy,
I was in a sort of tizzy,
Buying outfits that would make me look real ‘hot‘!
I bought a tiny vest and tights,
In colours known as “brights“.
My corneas were sore just looking at them.
But they fitted like a glove
And if I gave my tits a shove,
I was sure that the lycra would not flatten ’em !
Well the day of my first class
Dawned and I, as green as grass,
Placed myself right up there, at the front.
There were fatties and some thin girls,
With their hair done up, in loose curls.
But they jumped and danced and never made a grunt.
The instructor stood before me,
Like some super-star on TV
She waved her arms and wiggled legs and ‘tush‘.
I don’t need to remind you all
That I’m not young nor very tall
And certainly not used to such a rush.
But ambition flouts the rules;
The girl next to me, called Jools,
Was making me feel terribly declasse
She had mastered every move,
I really must improve,
So I vowed that I would really shake my chassis.
Well, I tried with all my might,
Though my clothes were rather tight
And a spasm suddenly caught me in the chest.
Then my ‘bangers‘ both fell out
And I gave a feeble shout.
Cos I’d only gone and split me little vest !
I was flustered and was blushing
I could feel my body flushing
And I almost hid my boobs…. with lots of straining.
But something made me pause.
It was the sound of loud applause !
The rugby team had turned up for some training.
Now, I do not want to shock,
But each night I lose my frock,
My bra and pants; but let me make it clear.
Hey, you lot, don’t you titter
Stripping makes me fitter
And I’ve found that its a lucrative career !