A discovery of Dickens
and Duffy, Hardy,
hardly enough, he
awoke in me, poetry,
spoke to me, awoke in me,
something wild.
The Animal wept
for ‘The Unborn Pauper Child’.
The lessons and legacy
of Tolkien, my fascination
with the Inklings
and Lewis’ dedication:
world changing,
life changing.
I sensed the rearranging
of destiny,
the message fate sent,
when ‘The Signalman’ began
with the end.
The magician that is memory,
listens to old laughter,
remembering rudimentary lessons
that were taught but never learned,
teases the dreams from an alternate reality,
and feeds them into recollections,
making it impossible to discern
where the myth fades, and the man is earned.
Silly little desks
at school,
lecture halls,
stuffed
with stuffy, boring people,
boasting erroneous
cleverness,
for finding
a hidden meaning,
when there was none.
Teachers preaching
about onomatopoeia,
sibilant sounds
and atmosphere,
syllables
carefully counted
and recounted
in raps, rants and raves.
Eminem, secretly
wanted on the syllabus,
so those sat at
the silly little desks –
at school,
might find poetry ‘cool’,
and the stuffy
boring people
will begin to appreciate
‘stuff’,
discover
they will understand
the poet better,
if they cease dissecting
the poems
and enjoy them
for what they are:
Poetry.
My publisher, Black Pear Press, kindly set up a page on Facebook. Pictures from the book launch can be found there. Take a look!
https://www.facebook.com/Lacuna-by-Kieran-Davis-1205013262891612/
Her Majesty, The Queen received her copy of Lacuna.
Have you got yours? Lacuna, the debut collection of poetry from yours truly (prize-winning poet, Kieran Davis, AKA Baldypoems) is available here:
Sure, you can get it on Amazon too, but I’d love for you to buy directly from the publisher, Black Pear Press.
Edited by the remarkable Polly Stretton, and sporting a blurb written by the legendary Paul F. Lenzi, Lacuna is sure to delight lovers of poetry.
Thank you to all for the continued support.
Uniform, absent meaning,
the impressive impression,
lost, the cost of a moment’s
independent thinking –
linking someone we were
brought up to respect –
to someone we elect.
Today, we all lose,
because he was swearing
and not wearing
shiny shoes.
I like words that wobble,
like scribble and wibble
and bobble, greedily, I
gobble, codswallop, such
squabble! Nice to nibble,
but not to nobble…
Written for Nina Lewis, a superb poet, whose debut pamphlet is released this year. Nina is as wonderful on the stage as she is on the page, a lovely lady (who likes it when I write silly stuff like this). We celebrate National Poetry Day today. I aim to do so by honouring some of the talented poets who have given me so much to celebrate.
