We, all “poets”, all differently abled
Arrive to find the toilet door not labelled
Trying to find words that rhyme with ‘falafel’
And fittingly all I can think of is ‘offal’
I got the Amateur Poetry Workshop Blues
Through examples we study form and rhyme and meter
An overabundance of assonance finishes off poor Peter
The kennings do for Jennings, they’re a real poet-killer
And Wendy says the wordplay is just wanton word-count filler
I got the Peak District Rural Library Amateur Poetry Workshop Blues
“Do I need rhymes”, asks Jeremy, “at the end of every stanza?”
(His rhymes have, until now, been as subtle as a Panzer)
I feel the table cringe as Celia struggles with personification
Anthropomorphism makes Belinda’s Bichon Frisé roll its eyes in consternation
I got the Council Subsidised Peak District Rural Library Amateur Poetry Workshop Blues
“Repetition, repetition, repetition is the way to success here!”
Says Gertrude, whose chattering teeth have their own onomatopoeia
I’m struggling with the syllable count to finish off my haiku
I want to leave now, go to the pub, and find someone to cry to
I got the Facebook Group Organised Council Subsidised Peak District Rural Library Amateur Poetry Workshop Blues
Here’s another story inspired by true events, which is to say the first stanza is all true and I really did go to a Facebook Group Organised Council Subsidised Peak District Rural Library Amateur Poetry Workshop (it was in Glossop) but it did not give me the blues. Actually I quite enjoy poetry workshops.
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