17 Poets

Hey Readers On day 22 of NaPoWriMo I look back on a wonderful night of spoken word at Extra Second. This is a night I can’t recommend highly enough and to celebrate my first appearance at this excellent evening I have written a poem entitled 17 Poets. Though I have already written a poem with the one word title Poets which was inspired by my friend Audrey Marshall, this is very different in content and though I was tempted to change it I was reminded that there were the three versions of The Power Of Love and none of them sounded remotely similar. My thanks to Paul Wardrope for confirming that my original choice of title was the right one.  So here it is, 17 Poets I hope you enjoy the read.

17 Poets

When poets speak with authentic anger
the audience listens 
as tales on Europe
homelessness poverty and unfulfilled ambitions
proved the personal is political
Now I don’t mean to be critical
of the older generation
but there are occasions
when they need to wind their necks in
and realise that just because they are a certain age
they do not have a right to rage
about not getting a seat on the bus
this culture of entitlement
is not an enlightened attitude
I am sick to death of their platitudes
of how it was better in their day
it wasn’t there lying
it’s not cool
and voting SNP both votes
will not be enough to free Scotland
from Westminster rule
despite Facebook campaigns
to the contrary
capitalism will never cure poverty
it magnifies the gap between the haves or have nots
and just because someone has bouncy hair does not make them an optimist
so make sure you have no regrets
the law doesn’t work for women
or at least not yet
and male ego doesn’t mean
that you are the smartest man in the room
I heard all these tales and many others
on a night when the world discovered what happens
when words danced to the tunes of ranters
and the only recruiting Sargent’s
were from the army of 17 poets
whose dreams were  shared on the stage
even though the final poet raged against rage
we were the voice of authentic anger.

@ Gayle Smith 2016

NB This poem was written on day 22 but couldn’t be posted until now due to the usual technical issues like my phone needing charged.

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