National Poetry Day

It has been so long since I passed by. Today is National Poetry Day here in the UK. Maybe the wider world did not know that. To be honest, I chanced to hear of it on the radio a couple of days ago. The trouble with being a poet is that I am just not engaged with the world of poetry. I used to try and even joined the Poetry Society. I joined the John Clare Society. I hung out with the National Poetry Foundation.  I went to poetic gatherings and felt entirely out of it. I used to feel as if I should be delivering the wine or looking in while cleaning the windows. I wanted to write poems that were about not being a poet. If I write anything at all which is worthy of the name poetry, it is because I do not feel like one. My ideal reader is someone who does not feel like a poetry reader. This means that my target audience is immense. As a young writer I wanted to say something profound about 10mm and 13mm spanners and their special relationship with nuts. I did not get accepted by editors but I picked up some handy car servicing work. If you are a big tough guy out there and know what I mean about the strange satisfying symmetry of those spanners please get in touch. We could create a special website.

To mark the occasion, the famous landmark advertising display at Piccadily in London  is carrying a poem by the Cornish writer Charles Causley. It is a wonderful poem and if you check out the Poetry Day web site you can see some great poems awarded prizes in honour of the event.

The only way a poet can celebrate a special poetic day is by producing a poem. I have been working in my poet’s overalls at the back of the cave on some new poems. I am compiling and editing a collection involving a number of other writers. I am so excited by the quality and range of the submissions. I’m also going to feature audio and there’s a couple of tracks that just give me a big WOW.  The great thing is that being the self appointed editor, all my stuff goes in without any tears, hate mail or counselling sessions with my rejection therapist. Just between us, I’ve been thinking of getting rid of him but I’m not sure how he will take it.  Here is my poem.


Raindrops hitting the river flow
collision of birth death,
a  coming home to die.
Identity sweeping on and away;
a fluidity of self.
Ripples spreading on
the moving face of time
reaching forward
reaching back

We watched the rain
from the river’s edge,
not lovers then,
two selves as yet
un-drowned in each other.

Let us kiss
and fall as raindrops
to be water, time and no one
but our love.


6 thoughts on “National Poetry Day

  1. What a profoundly gorgeous poem, Oscar, frozen in that unique moment of time! You truly are the master! I raise my glass to Poetry on this special day, and to you and all poets and poetry lovers who came before and are yet to come.

  2. What a marvelous mood you created. I think the more poetry that is in one’s soul, the less likely they are to feel like a poet. Rather they just feel like who the are and go write poems because they must. It’s always a treat when you stop by.

  3. Love the sentiments expressed in your prose here, and it seems we both want to move the heart. However, poets are a bit special, like everyone, and, though the establishment is always intimidating, one does want to learn and to be accepted; that’s the hell of it!

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