Wednesday, 25 September 2013

Hanging with Pitshanger Poets

I am a poet on a journey,
this time I was lead to the hanger
and the plaines were on another level...

I am the brightest in the room,
but not the brightest,
as I strut in there with my
sky blue tracksuit.


I walk in the room,
I feel a little intimidated
I thought I was under the
age limit...

Surrounded by O.A.P's
Old Age Poets.

you thought I meant pensioner?
For shame you who
read that wrong....

I say respect your elders,
you never know what
they can teach you,

But was I not the guy who said
F%%k elders... Yes... now my respect
increases the more I meet the wiser ones.


The meeting commences,
I feel cool in my blue
tracksuit as I rapidly introduce
myself, using fast speech to
disguise my shyness.

I go first to introduce myself and read,
after my long intro I was happy to go
first now I can breathe...

As each of us go one by one,
I imagine I am round the nights
table with poetic jousters;

We all had sharp stanzas,
some could even put a
hole in your heart
and pierce your pineal.

 I am part of a high minds,
travelling from a
"so called" low place,

Poetry has no image,
when others share the vision,
I still believe one day a poet
will become a politician.

I have found a intellectual
home, not to far from my zone,
I shall see my new group every
other Tuesday, no longer am I alone.

Peace Pitshanger Poets...

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