Suffering from Art

A poem written from the heart, but one which paints a partial view of the fate of the poet's girlfriend.

Category

Literary Funny Poems

Sub-category

Funny Poems about Literary Life

Author

Why I'll Never Be A Proper Poet

I'm never going to be called a proper poet, because I'm over fifty and quite amiable on stage,
They don't accept you as a serious poet, when you're tea-total and not par'ticually good with rage,
I don't have cousins working at Faber & Faber, I don't have brothers at the Sunday Times,
I don't do poems about war or politicians, and, worst of all, my bloody poetry rhymes.

I've never taken drugs except for aspirin, I haven't got a clue about the hood,
I'd rather wear my slippers than go clubbing, and, brother, as a poet, none of that is good.
I'm not up on all the conflicts in old Palestine, I'm straight-talking, not airy-fairy, weird or fey,
And I've never read a book by Seamus Heaney, just give me Hilaire Belloc any day.

I'm not fitted out for rap or jazz or hip-hop, I'm bald and old and pretty paunchy too,
So why do I keep getting on this podium?  I've suffered for my art, and so should you.

Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved

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