​

The Open Mic Night

​

 

I spent my adolescence writing lots of teenage angst

through poetry, and stuck with it, despite it being pants.

I’ve been to Open Mic nights, and risen through the ranks.

I don’t get heckled quite so much, and even get some thanks.

 

I’ve had some poems published, and felt my work improve.

It’s given me some confidence when I’m not in the groove.

I watch a brand-new poet. The first time that they’ve tried.

I clap, although I’m jealous, and thinking deep inside -

 

  Oh crikey, not another better poet on the scene.

   How come even novices are better than I’ve been.

    I don’t want competition from someone just sixteen.

   Oh crikey, not another better poet on the scene.

 

Everyone’s much cleverer, and wittier than me -

I’m slipping down the rankings. I’m in the bottom 3.

I wish there was a talent freeze and some kind of embargo.

I wish I had a better rhyme than using Avocado!

 

 Oh crikey, not another novice poet doing well.

   It must be genes or talent. It’s such a living hell.

   Poets used to start quite poor, get better bit by bit.

      I hate all bleeding poets now. I wish they were more sh..

      Chaka Khan, Chaka  Khan.

​

George Stanworth 2017

​