Wouldn’t it be great
a decade from now
when it’s bills, insurance,
married life,
to wander into Waterstone’s
and go *‘hold on a minute,
I sat next to him!’*
At the counter we could say
*‘Oh, I knew the author,
uni days and all that’*
as we fish around
for a ten quid note
thinking *‘hang on,
I should have a signed copy!'*
We’ll call ourselves
intellectual,
scrawl sonnets in cafes,
sup pints, smoke cigars,
proclaim Seamus’s work
*‘just... just… it just speaks
to me you know?’*
And we’ll remember
that teapot,
those guys coming in late,
dishing out slips of paper
like a croupier with cards
and still wonder
if what we’ve written is magic.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
Wouldn’t it be great
a decade from now
when it’s bills, insurance,
married life,
to wander into Waterstone’s
and go *‘hold on a minute,
I sat next to him!’*
At the counter we could say
*‘Oh, I knew the author,
uni days and all that’*
as we fish around
for a ten quid note
thinking *‘hang on,
I should have a signed copy!'*
We’ll call ourselves
intellectual,
scrawl sonnets in cafes,
sup pints, smoke cigars,
proclaim Seamus’s work
*‘just... just… it just speaks
to me you know?’*
And we’ll remember
that teapot,
those guys coming in late,
dishing out slips of paper
like a croupier with cards
and still wonder
if what we’ve written is magic.
Written: March 2014.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time, and the FINAL poem written during my university course. The poem is a look to the future and a reflection on the past, making references to poetry classes over the years. Written in a deliberately jokey style, as was planned by my poetry group before class for the final session together.
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