Local Poet (based on the poem Local Poet by U.A. Fanthorpe)


Still looks good for his age, Despite his five pints a night – The pub, his nightly calling.


As well as that, a poem a day, And the paper not read Until the crossword completed.


The menial jobs he’s done – Cleaner, Seller of the Echo – It’s his I’m just a humble man, honest Guv way.


At least his current unemployed status Affords him time to spend with a woman, But even she is somehow not good enough,


The poet in him seeks perfection – Each word he writes with care, Each significant, like a crossword clue.


His poems are published in Welsh magazines – He has a reputation of sorts, But he doesn’t really show off his talent,


The poet in him will not allow it, No, it’s hi Wayne, how are you Rob? He’s no better than anyone here,


And yet…and yet he knows he’s more educated, Speaks like he’s taken elocution lessons, Looks like a man who should be wealthy by rights,


And he’s placed some trust in me, But I don’t think after all I’m the one to help him –


15


I respect his poetry, but I’m more like The others, not worthy. I, like them, Would prefer to tell him – this is not your place!


You should be doing more than this! But really I’m no use if I can’t help him get there, And I know he’s no man for taking orders –


Last orders he’ll accept, No others, and that, voluntarily – He’s drunk enough, he’ll sleep now.


His head filled with the words he’s heard. He even wrote down one of my lines once.


N k F k ic is


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