The Poetry Police
 

The Poetry Police

I saw somewhere, was it here, that the police came round to the house of a poet and threatened him with all sorts of unpleasantness is he did not stop writing poetry, specifically verses of a critical nature about the directors of the local football team. I imagine Sphereans might feel rather proud of this man. Perhaps someone might be encouraged to write something else, possibly more succint on the subject


So I'm sitting in my arbour penning verses, as you do,
When I hear a knock-knock-knocking at my door.
Well I'm thinking it's the Sally-Ann and wonder where my purse is
And I stagger to the doorstep mouthing harmless litle curses
And the knocking's more insistent than before,
So I open up the door and it's the law, it's the law,
Yes I open up the door and it's the law.

'Are you the noted rhymester who resides at this address?
Are you the famous fashioner of stanza?'
'Sturdy constable I own the soft impeachment. I confess
I have written certain lyrcs. I'm a poet, more or less.
Are you organizing some extravaganza,
Some literary festival bonanza, big bonanza?
I just love a good poetical bonanza.'

But the features of the constable contract into a frown here
And it seems as if it's off he's really pissed. 'Sir,
I regret I must inform you certain parties in this town here
Have complained about your poems and I've got it written down here.
The authorities desire that you desist, sir'
In point of fact, they really must insist, sir, must insist, sir.
No more poetry or else...
You get the gist, sir?'

John, it's delightful.

I confess that I hear the echos (as you do, and at my door) a la Wendy Cope's A Policeman's Lot , by which I mean only to pay you the compliment that this is equally as jaunty as hers and wants, aye demands, to be sung with a bass or tenor chiming in to repeat the endwords.

(I'm sure there is a musical term for that of which I am sadly, unforgiveably ignorant, something more precise than "refrain"; some educated and impetuous Spherian will surely inform me.)

Splendid, John!

Janice, I can't offhand think of the word you're looking for, apart from "chorus". But that's more or less equivalent to "refrain".

This is the first paragraph of the story reprted in the Huffington Post. I would down load all of it but I can't get it right.

Two police officers showed up at the door of Atherton, England, resident Dennis Swift last week with for curious reasons. One of them asked Swift if he wrote poems, and when Swift affirmed that he did, reportedly threatened, 'Well don't go writing any more." Yes, America, England takes its literature very, very seriously.

The Poetry Police dismisseth no one,
Especially one who takes the name of Soccer
In vain. “We can’t abide a knocker,
So get a life, or just piss off and grow one.”

here it is, John. The note was posted at General Talk, but I seem to have screwed up the link there. Now corrected.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/john-l..._hp_ref=poetry

Thank you, Janice. The poor man's couplet has been horribly mangled.

You came to Bolton Wanderers as our saviour and Messiah.
Your interviews are hilarious and your signings are utterly dire.

Is what he wrote, or hopeably what he wrote. That is not a bad couplet at all.

Delightful, John. I want the story to go on. At least I want to hear the good constable explain the reason for his request and the poet resolve whether to obey the law or the muse.

And I'm probably being daft, but I don't see why the very first rhyme falls earlier in the line than later first-line rhymes.

Oh Gawd, does it? I shall have to go and look.... yeah, Max, you're so right. Thanks. I've fixed it.