In this section I put up a new poem at regular intervals. There are many different sorts of verse, but as I expect you know by now I prefer those with some sort of form and metre.
I have put up a mixture in Previous
Poems 1, 2 and 3. Some serious, some light, some in thoughtful mode, some much more spontaneous - but all with a distinct structure.
Some people think that formal structures have to be 'heavy' and/or 'old fashioned'.
I don't think so. One of my favourite formal styles is the Sonnet - a 14 line verse which looks at one focus and comments on it, either in the final couplet (Shakespearean) or in the last six lines (Italian) style. They can be serious or light or romantic
or profound - whatever you choose to make them.
This is the time of the notorious Turner Prize, and I have been asked if I would reprise my attempt to enter the competition. Of Course! My pleasure.
nothing against artistic experiment, but am deeply sceptical about some of the praise heaped by pretended cognoscenti on absolutely anything, however worthless. A dustbin lid thrown on to a bath mat remains just that – to call it ‘Art’ removes
any meaning from the idea of Art – even if you call it Concept Art.
decided I would mount an exhibition
To satirise those pseuds of Modern Art –
The mindlessly excessive and the tastelessly obsessive;
My enterprise would wound them to the heart.
So: I cut a Gloucester sausage
And put them in a glass jar, a la Hirst,
Then I filled it more or less with some purple-tinted meths:
This was wittily subscribed, ‘Is this your wurst?’
I sliced a skull in half using
a chain saw
And painted the vacated brain-box red;
A feather I employed to enhance the aching void
And I aptly called it, ‘Tracy Emin’s head’.
I took a sheet of unused cartridge paper
rude words upon its pristine white;
I trod it on the floor and then sprayed it with some more
And I thought I’d simply call it, ‘Right-on Write’.
I inscribed a single word upon some cardboard
placed it in a frame of hand-cut yew;
There was only just the one so I thought it would be fun
To specify the name: ‘Untitled 2’.
I collected up a barrow load of rubble
And deposited the lot upon the floor;
It was eye-catching as hell – and it caught the feet as well
For it nearly blocked the entrance to the door.
But: my Exhibition failed in its intention,
For the Turner judges praised my ‘au contraire-ness’,
And instinctively they saw that the rubble on the floor
Showed ‘Eroto-latent Spatial Unawareness’.
Then a man called Saatchi bought the whole caboodle!
Now, I sit and watch my fortune as it swells.
I’m Happening! I’m Hot! Though I lost the bloody plot
I’m the Nouveau Avant-Garde of Tunbridge
These are in Previous Poems file:
1. You eat what you are.
2. Republican Limerick.
4. Shock 11/2/13
5. Serious Sonnet - A Question of History 18/2/13
6. Celebrity Time
7. The Witches
8. Polemic Poems 1; The Turnaround
9. Polemic Poems 2; Rhyme and Reason
10. Poems for Places 1. The Road to Bath
Poems for places 2. Chipping Campden
12. Silly Verse for Sensible Kids 2. Trouble in the Channel
13 Envoi for Mary
These are in Previous Poems 2 file
14 Poem for Spring Gardeners
16 Bank Holiday Gardening Poem
17 Family Foibles: 1 Losing Keys
18 Family Foibles: 2. Holiday Departure
These are in Previous Poems 3 file
19 Poems for Places - The Cotswold Way
22 Join the Club
23 Silly Verse for \sensible Kids 3.Dance in the Deep
24 Angst at Ottaker's
25 The Wasp
26 Cloud Cuckoo Land
27 The Edge of Insanity
28 The Deserted School
29 It was all rather dramatic
These will appear in Previous Poems 4 file.
33 Stow on the Wold
$8 Chipping Campden