Poetry is…
not for some
and not for others;
it may not be for sons,
daughters or mother’s,
and it might not be for dads,
uncles or aunts;
people from Brazil,
Malawi or France;
left-handed Marmosets,
eagles or shrews;
and the cast of Cats
might give it bad reviews.
Window-cleaners, doctors or nurses,
pencil-sharpeners, drivers of hearses,
canal-wideners, chimney-sweeps
or match-selling scouts,
would deny its presence,
nor give away its whereabouts;
they wouldn’t even give it the time of day –
upon poetry they would have nothing to say.
Nevertheless, poetry is.
Graeme Sandford 