Dear readers ...
Yeah, instead of relaxing at the weekend, stuffing my face with cakes, or watching TV - like you! ... I was doing even more work on my poem There's nothing.
Man, it is finished now, all right? At last!
I think the problem was ... it used to be a song lyric, and song lyrics really aren't written to the same standard as poems. / Sorry, Bob, son! It's just the way it is. You still deserve your Nobel Prize though for being the best ever lyricist.
[Oh, I hope I haven't upset him.]
Anyway, I've been thinking ...
I'm going to write three kinds of poetry -
Free verse
Traditional verse, where I break the rules or create my own forms
Traditional verse ... where I follow the rules
I mean, with the traditional stuff, if you're going to break all the rules all the time ... you might as well write free verse, you dig?
And, uh ...
Oh!
I've gone off one of the poems I entered in the competition. This means I only have eight poems now that I can put in a volume. / I better get writing, kooks, because I want thirty poems by next March!
Yeah, yeah, anyway ...
There's nothing has been totally transformed! It started off as the Nothing lyric in ... er, years ago! What year? (It's on my other laptop.) Then a couple of months ago, I turned it into a "great" poem, or so I thought. But now ... ooo!
OOO - !!!
Do you know what I mean?
'Nice one!'
Good morning, Voice.
'Good morning, boss! Are you looking forward to another week?'
Er ...
Yeah.
Yeah.
Anyway ...
Listen!
I bought an ebook of Shakespeare's sonnets from a top, respected publisher, but I could hardly read it on my phone screen. It was very disappointing. Cost me about £4. / Then I saw another ebook for 11p from an unknown publisher. 'Ha!' Yeah, I thought it would be utterly dodgy, but I still bought it, and ... it's perfect! It even has some lovely illustrations. Strange, eh?
Anyway ...
What else?
Let's finish with Yeats having a peak or mystical experience -
My fiftieth year had come and gone,
I sat, a solitary man,
In a crowded London shop,
An open book and empty cup
On the marble table-top.
While on the shop and street I gazed
My body of a sudden blazed;
And twenty minutes more or less
It seemed, so great my happiness,
That I was blessèd and could bless.
'Nice one!'
Yeah, I know all about that.
Laters!
