"Pizzas" and "In Pursuit of the Elusive Poetry Groupie" (a.k.a. The Effects of Age and Priority on a Growing Poet)

Hullo all!

Please pardon my latest post delay - I've been working up and winding down so much recently, I'm starting to feel cracks and tears all over me. In short, I need a holiday... But do not fear! I'm not going to just leave those of you still reading in the lurch before I do - I have POEMS!!!

Well, two to be exact. I thought that it might be both entertaining and educational (has 'edutaining' been entered into the dictionary yet? Or is it 'edutational' or something else entirely?) to display to you one poem from my VERY fresh-faced youth (we're talking Junior/Primary School here, for all you former scholars of the British educational system), and one from practically a week ago.

The first is "Pizzas". Out of all the work from before and during puberty, this is the poem that I still cannot help but adore. It's mostly for sentimental reasons obviously, but I like to think that it was really a rather impressive piece of poetry for a very young child, as I was (especially one who had only ever really read "The Lady of Shallot" by Lord Tennyson and Alfred Noyes' "The Highwayman", and virtually no other poems). I have tweaked it, but only very slightly; remember, I was only a very young child when I first wrote it. Anyway the title's pretty self-explanatory, not to mention indicative of it's orally-fixated, chubby, chomping little author (there, I said it...and with all the ugly adjectives too...)

The second, "In Pursuit of the Elusive Poetry Groupie", is almost equally simplistic in its composition but with that essential bit of poetic experience thrown in. And let's not forget about life experience: I think that the title is quite self-explanatory on that matter too. I know it's both naive and vain to believe that such a thing as a 'Hot Female Poetry Groupie' exists for a low-level poet such as I, but I'm not giving up hope just yet. Who knows, she may be at the next poetry recital I perform at - doubtful but maybe.

Anyhoo, I digress and into an emotional minefield, no less. I shall leave you to measure the change of years on this young and (not so) humble poet for yourself, using these cute little slices of poetry. They may not be the height of my skill but they certainly give a distinctive insight...


PIZZAS

Pizzas fat,
Pizzas flat,
Pizzas small,
Pizzas tall,
Pizzas delicious,
Pizzas nutritious,
Pizzas long,
Pizzas strong,
Pizzas light,
Pizzas for the day,
Pizzas for the night,
Pizzas from above -
Pizzas I love!


IN PURSUIT OF THE ELUSIVE POETRY GROUPIE

Women with words
go together like birds -
all in a flutter

but men with words
to flatter those 'birds',
stare down the gutter

cos 'Straight Male Poet',
who rarely does know it,
is out for the girls

fingers to find
those elegant spines,
those delicate curls

but I'm not one,
now the words have all gone
and fallen to me

and there's not One -
girls curtsey till gone
as I write for free.


And that just about wraps it up for this week/month/year's blog post. Once again I shall leave you for obscurity for a while, and then probably resurface within a matter of weeks. Who knows? I may even be back at uni when I do, grinding out fiction with the usual trusty verbal diarrhoea. There's no accounting for where my head will be then...

Thanks for reading,

Mr. Pondersome