I’m one of those weird people who reads poetry, for pleasure. Honest: I can’t write it for toffee, so it doesn’t appear on this blog, but I’m deeply jealous of those who can and do. They see, and change, the world in a way I’ll never be able to approach.
That’s why I was so pleased to be sent a poem by Steve Pottinger called No-one likes an angry poet. It’s brilliant, but because poems are copyright as a whole I’m not going to copy it here. If want you to read it go to Steve’s website for yourself. Just click the link.
Suffice to say it starts like this, and I think you can begin to guess (but only a little) at where it might be going:
what with the weather being lousy
and the nights drawing in
and the rent being due
and the electricity bill hitting the floor
and going through the roof at the same time
and feeling in need of a mid-morning pick me up
to shore up my morale,
I’m going to put on my rain gear
head into town
walk into Starbucks
and smile at the barista.