With a rare Tuesday night off?
No football tonight
In the freezing cold.
It’s obvious-staring me in the face
An Ell Gee Bee Tea poetry showcase!
Not exciting in a hat throwing way,
It’s clearly proudly, openly gay.
Am I still scared of gossiping staff
At my expense having a laugh?
Walking in taking my seat
Got away with it real neat
Two hours of readings
Light on the ear
Never had anything to fear.
A strange crowd
Not sure I mean weird,
There’s one or two
With stereotype beard.
Some publish poems in real books
Rather old, from their craggy looks.
Seems to be a Christmas Jumper convention
The sort reserved for
An annual Boxing Day fixture.
A small crowd tonight
But quite a mixture.
To my council estate ear
They sound quite posh
If all are welcome tell me why
Do I feel out of place?
Is it because I’ve nothing to say
Even though we’re all gay?
Do I want to be a poet?
If I end up like you
Stumbling, shambling forward
Will I be too old to appreciate anything?
But you clearly do…and have.
Fumbling with the hissing microphone
Like it’s your first time
Desperate for recognition, appreciation
…..Approval.
Some of the words I can relate
Others? That’s why I have a dictionary.
Whoosh! Way over my head.
Comparing one to a Hockney
Sage heads nod in agreeance
Apart from mine
Don’t you mock me..I’m a Cockney!
Lack of concentration my mind is drifting
Taking me away from the Junior Library
To my left the JK Rowling shelf
And suddenly I’m not curled up with a book
But Daniel Radcliffe himself
In my own fantasy world.
Just as well to make time pass
I fear I’m a bit too working class
Apart from the bloke sat at the back
In his Tottenham Hotspur top.
Is the attraction the subject matter
Or is he just mad as a hatter?
Or a bit of everything?
But then…
Why should he fit the ‘stereotype’ queer
If that’s the criteria then I’m out of here.
But here I am
To listen and learn
Not sure what I’ll take in.
A chance to read from the floor
To which the phrase “No fucking chance!”
Was undoubtedly made for.
Even I’m scared of being rubbish
And rejected.
Story of my life.
Maybe next year, eh?
No problem at all for “P.C. Man”
Chair in front.
He wants his moment of glory.
Desperate to get up & read
From an old gay tome
A precursor to orate his own.
Which is his real purpose.
But first the urge to tick his box
Women first before us with cocks.
So up she got sparkling like her dress
She was good..the readings I mean!
His face contorting into a panicky mess.
Twitching, wondering what he’d done
Don’t worry mate, you got your time
To read your poem line by line
Glancing up at your chosen spot
To see what peals of laughter you got
Ha! Not very much!
Having to hide the let down
In the spotlight you can’t frown.
That’s poetry for you.
It mirrors real life
And in reality
Poofs are just like anyone else.
We can’t stick together.
Dulwich Poet-13th February 2013
(I work for a public library service. On Tuesday 12th February there was an LGBT poetry reading, from 7.00pm until 9.00pm, at another branch, as part of our borough wide two week poetry festival. I’ve never been to a poetry reading before, & I’m often busy on Tuesdays, watching football. So it was just ‘luck’ that there was no game tonight)
No comments:
Post a Comment