Monday, 21 March 2011

An ode to Garth Crooks

What path
Did you take
When on hanging up your boots
You decided
To forsake
Your Staffy twang
And instead
To speak
Like a man
Whose only trait
Is to just
Every single
In the manner
Of a man
In an exam
For a job
At Buckingham
Palace, mate?

The trouble with World Poetry Day and its subsequent #WPDfootballpoems hashtag is that it leads to simpletons like me – who have never written a poem in their life for a very good reason – to think "Hey, I'll have a bash at that." Apologies to anyone who actually can write poetry. Or likes poetry. Or happens to be Garth Crooks. I will stick to glib remarks about uneventful football matches in future.


Narrow The Angle said...

It's been pointed out (by my dad, no less) that this poem sounds like Rik from The Young Ones! That's kind of what I was going for - pretentious and wordy for a subject matter that warranted a pretentious tone. Garth would be proud I'm sure! I was trying to channel a bit of John Hegley's style too. And failing. Dismally.

If I'd ever written a poem before, it might have been more like this:

Jude Ellery said...

I like it. Sounds exactly like something he'd say, which I'm sure was your intention!

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