This one’s the Preface to my new book The Calling, now available HERE…
Poetonomics
The essence of poetry
is economy.
Basically, we poets write
to get rich.
Why else d’you think
the art
of making great poetry
is such
a jealously guarded secret?
The training is tough,
hot heady
workshops with endless
cups of coffee,
peer-group meetings on
plush sofas
– and reading! Oh my, it’s like
concert pianists
practising, we read for hours a day
– even troubling
to memorise choice passages.
Then the cost of paper
– scrumpled balls
lobbed at overfull baskets,
sheaves kept
for later scrutiny. Yes, editing, honing,
shaving off slivers
until it’s ready for the sandpaper
of punctuation.
And hey, you know we don’t set up
our easel
before sun-drenched panoramas
– far from it,
the cramped attic garret is essential
for credibility.
Did I mention the actual writing?
Long stints
holding on for dear life to
a well-sucked
pencil, lost to time and place.
Success is still a lottery, mind.
Precious manuscripts
fill the recycle bin of hard-eyed
publishers – who
can take their pick like we’re
refugee orphans
pleading at the fence.
So the big money is
well deserved.
76 poems for £10, let’s see, that’s
13p per poem.
So, sports car or speedboat?
Decision time!
Verses of Five 