POETRY NIGHT

Poetry night with the Intrepids tonight. My Dad found a whole load of funny limericks about people who end up inside lions or eat too many apples.

I was just trying to get my niece to appreciate poems, which is a tough sell for a teenager. Come to think of it, it’s pretty difficult for most people.

I can sort of see why. Poets can so easily come off as smug and condescending; sometimes you get to the last line and it feels as though the writer has tricked you, or has just left the room wanting you to know how clever he or she is. Or worse, how funny. And yes, I know I do do that. But I think my motive has always been to brighten up the room and leave it better than I found it. I hoped that the difference might shine through, but I appreciate that it is subtle.

So, she liked the limericks. She enjoyed The Jumblies and Adelstrop and Jabberwocky and Ozymandias. I read my poem about Boxes and The Invisible Man to my Mum and she said it was deep.

“They don’t all have to be funny,” she went on. Ah I suppose not.

Then, buried away in my phone, I found the start of something from a while ago that I’d forgotten about. It made me snort with laughter so I read it out, as though it was suddenly complete. And I suppose reading it out makes it so...

Mirror Mirror

Mirror mirror on the wall.

Sensible place to put it

Who’s the fairest of them all?

I’ve no idea. I’m a mirror.

My niece raised her eyebrows and then logged silently back into her phone and her life.

Honestly, I really only do it to brighten a room! It’s not my fault if I find the silliest things almost as funny as the Tumbleweed Moment that follows them. Is it? Right?

Is this thing on?