Thursday, 6 February 2014

Poetry Please

Yesterday evening I went to a poetry evening.  It was a bit intense.

One poem went on for ages and had mention of everything from cancer to the four horsemen of the apocalypse, another described in great details the trauma of abortion.

I had written a poem, well, more of a rhyme really, about 'smug travelling gits'.  I hadn't wanted to get up after a quite nice American lad had eulogised about finding himself on his gap year, but my friend had secretly put my name on the list.

There was no choice.

The Smug Travelling Git

We all know one, the smug, travelling git
Wherever you mention, they've visited it
You talk about your last holiday with great pride
Turns out they took their bike there, for a fancy ride.

Show photos of Bali, Bahrain or Bolivia
And smug, travelling git will say,
'Oh dahling, didn't we go there last yar?'

Whatever you did, they'll one up you with a smirk
Be it snorkelling, skiing or Cossack dancing with a Turk.

So when you next see them, this smug, travelling git
Buy them a drink and think
'I don't give a s**t'.

I got a good laugh and round of applause, so I am aiming to be the comic relief each week now.