Turning Up For Work: Me and Trump

"Inspiration is for amateurs. Professionals turn up and do a day's work." 

So here I am, a newly-turned  professional poet, showing up for work. Given that it's 12:39 pm, it's hardly a great start, but it's a start. 

The Poet 

I am given to self-parody. Many poets are, you'll find.

So, when I call myself the Coleridge of Culver St, you'll kmow

I am not being serious. 

Though - give me my due - if you're calling Donald Trump a President

It should be easy enough to call ME

A Poet.

Poem: Still Raining

 

 

Still Raining

 

My window looks in on me

Still raining.

OK, I like the rain, apart from it being cold and wet:

Those attributes I am not so fond of.

 

I like it's absence of colour and it's

Complete indifference.

 

The speckles it's makes on the glass and a memory of rain- drop races with Adrian.

 

Then.

 

Now:

 

None of my current crop of children would have the patience to watch a raindrop obey the laws of physics and meander down the pane.

 

I can conjure up excitement and laughter and

Small fingers tracing their favourites. Sometimes I called THAT cheating.

 

When I lost.

 

It's good isn't it? To have a cupboard full of moments. Mine is so crammed they spill out.

 

As for this one: I hold it before it goes. It's January 1st 2017, and right here, right now, I am happy.

 

Even

Though

It's

Still

Raining

 

Happy New Year

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