The sheer genius of the cat sat on the mat

The art of . . . being poetic

POETRY, when it’s in motion, is pretty fantastic. I tend to read it when I’m having six minutes on a bed at Tan-tastic.

Shakespeare, Byron, I like all the greats and once I’ve absorbed a poem I show it to my mates.

They call me a loser and tell me to stop embarrassing myself.

That last bit isn’t part of the poem. Unfortunately, philistines are what you’ll encounter in droves if you’re going to be poetic.

You see, if people struggle to string a sentence of short words together, it’s unlikely they’re capable of using long ones which rhyme. It’s not your fault you’re linguistically sophisticated and you should be free to express yourself, from time to time.

On occasion you’ll write a line that sings, sometimes you’ll construct a verse that dances on the page and in magic moments you may conjure up a line so pretentious that it makes people want to slap you. The latter is what we’re aiming for.

The Cat Sat on the Mat is quite possibly the greatest line of poetry ever written. It was a trailblazer. Not only did it rhyme in all the right places but it paved the way for other classics like How Now Brown Cow? and The Water in Majorca don’t taste like what it Oughta.

I’d suggest you let life’s emotional journey inspire your poetic expression with the pain of love and loss being particularly fruitful.

One of my best poems is about losing my BA Baracus (of “The A Team” fame) figure on holiday in Devon.

It’s called “B A Comebacus” and, remarkably, manages to convey the devastation of our parting while still celebrating the joy of the 22 years we had together.

Talking of fruit, you won’t read many poems about oranges. It’s because the word doesn’t actually rhyme with anything. Pear on the other hand rhymes with dare, share, wear and tear but for some reason there aren’t many poems about pears either.

In fact, why don’t you make that your first poetic ditty? “Pear Aware” is a possible title for you.

You could saunter artistically over the majestic make up of our country’s fourth favourite fruit.

Despair. That’s another word you can use which my wife has just suggested.

Next week… The Art of being Complimentary