a fairy tale of Camden Town
Clancy’s Gym, the same old sounds
a minute’s rest then two more rounds
I’ll jack this in (like Bobby Prewitt)
but where’s the one who made me do it?
He hasn’t come, he’s never here
by now he’s on his second beer
presiding in the Dublin Castle
surrounded by his navvy vassals
they’re calling me “the Tralee Tiger”
I coulda been … where’s my Rod Steiger?
the jolting jab, fast on his feet,
the bantamweight that no-one’s beat…
my bucket? Something-Saint-John’s-Wood
and scum from gumshields, spit and blood
I’ve learnt a word I like – “effete”
You don’t hear that on Albert Street
He knows I never wanted this. He
said he’d cure me called me cissy
he calls me Rocky. What a sham
why can’t I be the thing I am?
I want to dance like Nureyev
which might explain the fury of
the shellacking that this lad’s getting
Look at those losers busy betting
Sad old slobs with Patterson poses
ten-buck suits and flattened noses
come to think, though, who’s the fool
they’re not up here on this stool
back room Clancy’s Masculine Sports
blood on the gloves, shamrock on the shorts
(In Utah in January 1977, murderer
Gary Gilmore insisted on being put
to death. After leaving his eyes to
medical science, his last words were
"Let's do it". Imagine that you woke
up in hospital to find they'd given
you Gilmore's eyes ...)
I can see clearly
now the rain has gone.
I read the news today, oh boy.
Psycho killer - qu'est-ce que c'est?
Nice surprise.
They've given me his eyes.
Will I start to show
at the bars he used to go?
Bottom rung, unsung,
unhung, bring 'em young.
My name is Faye -
now you're gonna pay.
Lean, mean, Steve McQueen,
Terry Malloy,
Bobby Prewitt.
I can see Deirdre
now Lorraine has gone.
Sound and vision.
Going in with my eyes open.
Slip slidin' away.
New start, too smart,
play the part,
Robin Hood, no good,
In cold blood,
through the heart.
Let's do it.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.