Stephen Fry believes that if you can speak and read English you can write poetry.

For those of you who don’t know how to start and are about to take a sea cruise, I recommend packing a copy of Fry’s straightforward, witty guide, The Ode Less Travelled. It will help open your mind to the endless possibilities of the poet that has lain dormant inside you.

1,2,3 – go!

All that Fry asks is that you follow his three rules for writing and reading poetry:

1. Take your time.
2. Don’t be afraid.
3. Always have a notebook and a sharpened pencil with you to jot down ideas.

I have just started working my way through Fry’s excellent book which, alas, sparked off the following ditty:

I’m a little cruise ship,
Short and neat;
Come on board,
Where life is sweet.

Sad, really. Nothing seems to have changed since the days I was a part-time student teacher at Sidney Webb College in London, and some of my first poetic efforts were published in the student rag, Nexus, including:

Some things,
I’m glad I wrote;
Others,
Wish I’d cut my throat.

We quickly parted, when I started

With a bit of practice I sort of progressed and had three of my poems published in John Harvey’s Slow Dancer magazine, including:

I wished
when I had phoned you
last night
and your dog came to listen
that it was snowing heavily
outside
but both our rooms were warm
and that I had asked you
to wait a moment
while I opened the door
and took your head in my hands
and kissed you

What I described here actually happened – I simply turned it into a love poem for the woman concerned (long gone).

Yo Ho Ho, too much snow

If you’re stuck in the snow in the UK and feeling the cold, my suggestion in the poem above applies to you – except the kiss will only be planted on your forehead!

By the way, although it was a thrill to get some of my poems published, I was fully aware, as Robert Graves once said, that ‘There’s no money in poetry, but then there’s no poetry in money either.’

Someone else once defined a poet as a person to whom a statue is erected after they have died in poverty and neglect.

So write for your own satisfaction and don’t give up the day job, otherwise you’ll never be able to afford to take another cruise.

A poem is like a little fishy, on a little dishy

As for the results of your efforts, Osbert Sitwell said, ‘Poetry is like fish: if it’s fresh, it’s good; if it’s stale, it’s bad; and if you’re not certain, try it on the cat.’

Sounds like a meal I once had on a certain liner.

Enough, already…I can feel your eyes starting to glaze over.

Stay warm and safe.

And do send me your poems, especially any written on or about a sea cruise.

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Posted in Humour