My Poetry
I don't really write poetry anymore. In the past, however, I have written hundreds of poems - many of which are just appalling and quite embarrassing. From this section I will share what I think are a few of the better ones, along with their meaning.
London 1960.... London 1990
Possibly the only poem I have ever written that I am actually pleased with. It has a definite meaning for me and so to save any misinterpretations I have explained exactly what that meaning is.
The Little Yellow God
This one still makes me cringe but I have included it here because it has good memories for me. It was first included in a now long lost anthology of poetry put together when I was in the sixth form at the Norwich School. I can't remember whether I had one or two pieces included. I used to write poetry in the styles of John Donne and W.B. Yeats but this was in some other style of which I now cannot remember. For some reason my English teacher Peter Mackintosh (one of the kindest and warmest human beings I have ever had the pleasure of coming across) liked it. Can you imagine the conversation where a teacher is telling you something is good and you are arguing that it isn't. It's usually the other way round. Anyway because Mac like it and because he sadly passed away a few years back, here it is as a memorial to a fine teacher. Incidentally when I read this poem it reminds me of one or two of the more cringeworthy lines in the song Wild Eyed Boy from Freecloud by David Bowie. Particularly the lines: "So the village Dreadful yawns. Pronouncing gross diversion As the label for the dog"
I'm not sure whether I copied him or he copied me but I know who came out of it the best!!!
London 1960.... London 1990
Possibly the only poem I have ever written that I am actually pleased with. It has a definite meaning for me and so to save any misinterpretations I have explained exactly what that meaning is.
The Little Yellow God
This one still makes me cringe but I have included it here because it has good memories for me. It was first included in a now long lost anthology of poetry put together when I was in the sixth form at the Norwich School. I can't remember whether I had one or two pieces included. I used to write poetry in the styles of John Donne and W.B. Yeats but this was in some other style of which I now cannot remember. For some reason my English teacher Peter Mackintosh (one of the kindest and warmest human beings I have ever had the pleasure of coming across) liked it. Can you imagine the conversation where a teacher is telling you something is good and you are arguing that it isn't. It's usually the other way round. Anyway because Mac like it and because he sadly passed away a few years back, here it is as a memorial to a fine teacher. Incidentally when I read this poem it reminds me of one or two of the more cringeworthy lines in the song Wild Eyed Boy from Freecloud by David Bowie. Particularly the lines: "So the village Dreadful yawns. Pronouncing gross diversion As the label for the dog"
I'm not sure whether I copied him or he copied me but I know who came out of it the best!!!