Tick
No Box
There
is only one job
where
you make so many friends,
have
a lot of laughs,
travel
the world,
feel
so busy and get so occupied,
feel
like you constantly have more to learn
and
yet seem to achieve so little.
There
is only one job
where
there is always a long way to go,
mountains
to climb,
humble
pie to swallow
so
much skying to do,
cloud-bothering
and moon-bathing,
hustles
and hard knocks,
and
that's the full time job of poetry.
Poetry
is the poor cousin
at
the wedding of real writing,
journalists
and authors and comedians
and
playwrights and broadcasters are real writing.
I
can imagine this grand banquet,
there’s
poetry sitting on the floor,
begging
and feeding off the scraps it is thrown.
A
one-minute slot here,
A
bit of telly there
A
spot of radio, yeah,
slipped
in like an after thought
an
amuse bouche, an aperitif,
before
the juggler and after the hoola-hoop girl.
About
once a year a blaggard,
writes
an article with the headline
‘Poetry
Is The New Rock And Roll.’
This
is swiftly followed by debates about the health of poetry,
as
though poetry is an elderly distant relative,
coughing
up blood and awaiting test results,
its all about page v's stage and
its all about page v's stage and
people
get excited…
and
then it all goes quiet again,
and
poetry slumps back to its blogs and the back pages,
by
the crossword and an advert to buy thermal long johns.
Poetry
is akin to the poi juggler.
You
can see it takes some skill and practice,
But
seriously, can you be bothered?
Poetry
is the failed comedy,
the indulgent monologue,
the
verbose non-song with no melody.
Poetry
is all short bony lines with no meat or pictures,
Poetry
is hardly ever asked to sit at the big table with real writing,
rarely
passed the gravy or the bread,
never
given an actual plate or cutlery,
poetry
eats off the floor with ink-stained hands,
bad
teeth and absinthe blind,
because
poetry is a dog,
because
poetry is a sad orphan,
because
poetry is difficult,
because
poetry isn't sexy.
because
poetry audiences have no attention span
for
a poem that is longer than one minute.
And
writing sits up high at the big table feasting,
sucking
bone marrow, slurping whine and sour grapes
Hmm
interesting…what is real poetry?
Darling,
it must be the poetry that was expensive!
Or
the poetry that told the truth.
The
poetry that was all about you.
The
poem that was all about me, me, me...
Or
is it the poetry that the clever person told you was clever poetry?
Or the poetry that paid homage and bowed to the Queen?
Or
the poetry of the mad or the poetry of the dead?
Real
poetry is dead poetry.
Yes.
We all agree.
Dead
people write real poetry!
I'd
rather sit under the table
Than
pull up a chair and join the salesmen and magicians.
And
I suggest as poets we all carry on,
carry
on as we always have and always will do,
carry
on doing our writings and doing our readings,
carry
on reading, carry on writing,
carry on as you were and as you are,
while
the big mouths dribble all over the big table,
And
decide amongst themselves.
What
this is and
Who
we are and
Why
we do this.
Poetry.
An
odd life is poetry,
I do
it on purpose.
This
work is all my own work,
working
towards changing all of the above,
none
of the above.
I tick no box.
(c) Salena Godden / London / 2014
JUNE 2015: NEW! SALENA GODDEN LIVE AT THE ROUNDHOUSE READING THIS POEM, CLICK HERE
'Tick No Box' taken from the new poetry collection by Salena Godden, FISHING IN THE AFTERMATH, published with Burning Eye, watch this space.
My next poetry gig is MARCH 27th with the mighty Tongue Fu - For all David Lynch, William Burroughs or Andy Warhol fans, you might like this one-off show we're doing at The Photographers Gallery in the West End as part of an exhibition of their work. The eagerly anticipated ‘Springfield Road’ a literary childhood memoir will be out soon, look out for news at Unbound... Thanks for following!
Happy World Poetry Day
NEXT GIG: MARCH 24TH 2015! BRISTOL!
