Actually, no ...
As I walked back from Richmond this morning, yes ... because on the way there, I took my normal route along the road ...
BUT(!) ...
On the way back ... I walked along the river for the first time ever.
Yes.
I didn't really know what was going on ... it was like the countryside, honestly ... lots of wildlife, obviously.
However, I ended up on the Ringo side of the river - which was nice.
So ...
Anyway, as I walked back ...
Two lines of rather great poetry came to me.
Out of nowhere!
I was inspired, man.
Seriously.
I should write the poem ...
'You should!'
If I can sustain it ... well, it might turn out to be a great poem.
I could enter it in the National Poetry Competition later on in the year.
I mean ...
If I'm forced to become a poet, like ... by circumstances, you understand.
'I understand, boss.'
Good.
My life ...
This is a bit fragmented ...
Anyway ...
I reckon to be a great poet these days ... you probably have to Google every line you write.
I've just Googled my two, and they're fine. Totally original!
'Nice one!'
Thanks, Voice.
Listen! If I write about Nature and universal stuff ... life and death ... and all that jazz ... I'll avoid obscurity.
No time for it!
Poles of windy skull? Do me a favour! 'Toe the windy blood!' Eh?
I'll be clear, and concentrated, and go in for lots of great rhetoric ... like Yeats when he wasn't wittering on about spirits and goblins or whatever.
'Fairies!'
I beg your pardon?
'He wrote about fairies. He was ... The Man Who Dreamed of Faeryland ... remember?'
Ha! How could I forget?
I'll tell you, kooks ... you can say what you like about me, but I've never been The Man Who Dreamed of Faeryland. FFS. Do you know what I mean?
Anyway ...
Yeah, late period Yeats is the best. And bits of Shakespeare.
'You could have conversations with me in the poems!'
No. No, I won't be doing that.
'Your loss.'
Right.
It's bad enough ...
'What?'
Never mind.
One voice, my voice, will be all right by itself.
I don't want chaos, do I?
'I suppose not.'
Bye.
'Bye.'
