Friday 30 November 2012

#35 - Why I Write Poetry

Graham made a rash promise to Satan
in exchange for some really lovely trousers.

I hearby swear to pen moving, intelligent verse
from this day forth for the duration of my life;
failure to do so will result in defaulting my soul,
an object which, incidentally, will feature strongly
in every poem I write,
                                    Cool Graham x

(Graham signed everything 'Cool Graham' - it was his thing;
he had started when he was six and he sure as Hell
wasn't going to stop now - stopping would imply doubt,
and he never doubted anything, especially not
his really lovely trousers)

You should have seen him in those trousers,
promenading up and down the seafront,
duchesses fainting left, right and centre,
in pairs, dozens even.

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