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Doggerel Artist
It was some hours of purgatory,
Self imposed, but all the same,
He thought of it as purgatory as
He listened to them declaim
Their long strings of words with
No apparent rhyme or reason,
As if joy and happiness had
Somehow fallen out of season.
They said he wrote doggerel
Of A Most Low And Debase Kind
Containing Very Little Substance
To Stimulate And Feed The Mind.
They inferred he wasn’t welcome
In their flagellatory poetry clubs
Which really pleased him because
He preferred to perform in pubs.
There was a real sense of victory
Using his drill instructor’s voice
To make himself heard above
The normal drinkers noise
He would get their attention ,
Conversations would stop,
You could almost hear at tines
That fabled pin drop.
So many of those drinkers
Happy to give their time
To just stand and listen to
His worthless low based rhyme.
Oh he was well aware that
He wasn’t intellectually lauded
But that couldn't hold a candle to
The joy when a bar applauded.
In the realm of the intellectuals
Much self worth was raised
As they revelled in their world
Of much mutual self praise.
And out in the mundane world
Of the pub, the club and bar
He was regularly applauded as
An open mic performance star.
Copyright ©
Terry Ireland
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