"Bench Mark"

Four poets and me..
Crossing the frog and toad.
Bit of a chit
Bit of chat
Thought that would be
The end of that.
For they know their stuff
Reading off the cuff
As if it make it worse
They're so fucking buff!
But still they talk to me
Not sure if I fit in
Just poetry nights in common
Doin what it says on the tin.
While standing round chatting
They jumped up and recited
On the concrete bench seat
Which was something rather weird
As we were in them iddle of the street.
I'm one of those who can't recite
Never learnt from heart
Only reading scraps of paper
Which sets me and them apart.
I was nudged to read a short one
Trying not to be afraid
And when I heard their laughter
I was so glad I played.
I bade farewell to get beigels
Strolling toward Brick Lane
If you'd said a year ago
I'd have nights like this
I'd accuse you of being insane.
Tonight's a special moment
Whill I'll cherish with delight
For I think I've finally accepted
I'm a 'Proper Poet' who can right.

Dulwich Poet 23rd July 2014

(I read a poem in a 3 minute Open Mic slot, at Jawdance, the biggest monthly poetry event in London. It's got a really big stage, and there were at least sixty people in the room. I only stuttered over one line once, and the poem I chose was really well received.  Only six months ago this is an Open Mic event I'd NEVER have had the bottle to read at...)