I've written another purpose built poem for the event, again not sure whether I'll read it... - as always - opinions/ random irresponsible encouragement most welcome... :-)
A Quiet Night In
I'd love to go out
but I couldn't be bothered
didn't want to dress up, or look for another
excuse, so I'm just telling you straight and you better believe it
If I go I'll only be askin you when I can leave it
what I can talk about next to this dude
whether my hair looks all tangled and crude
why does what I'm wearing look faded and dated
next to the ethEreal annoying sprites out there
(the etherEAl annoying sprites are everywhere
no less annoying the fact that I can't decide how to pronounce em
with their stupid EtherEAlness)
who the hell do you think you are
where the hell are the toilets located
and who wants to be here, when home is so nicer
with its puppy dogs tails, and its sugar and spicer
and there's no con artists, selling kegs for a treasure
and there's no closing time, just bed at your leisure
no queueing for taxis or trembling sins
life's much more relaxing on a quiet night in
11 comments:
Go for it! If I went and found out afterwards that someone had written this and not read it, I'd feel let down. (Random irresponsible encouragement!) :)
The s on the end of sins strikes me as optional.
Oh what a great poem. You have captured that state of ennui, laissez faire, "can't be bothered" saturday night going out blues. I do hope you share this out loud.
Good call Dominic, am inclined to agree (re that extra s)
Thank you Gwei, I'll have to see whether it'd fit!
I echo, Dominic, go for it. Read it. If it bombs (which I doubt), everyone will walk out and go home. And if it is a rousing success, you may just convince people to ... well, walk out and go home for a quiet night in ... unless of course you can convince the place to change their name for the rest of the night to The Quiet Night Inn. There you have it, a pun, the lowest form of humor ... or so they say.
On a serious note, the poem works nicely, Niamh. Go ahead and read it, and do so with your hair all "tangled and crude" so you can have the best of both a night in and a night out.
My hair is always tangled and crude... a side effect of poeticness.
Thanks Lorenzo!
Alternative title - Hymn to Middle Age?
Yes, read it, read it, read it! It was written to be read.
That's a great gig too, congratulations on landing it.
You may be contacted by the owner of my local bar asking about why his revenue stream has dried up, as this has caused me to reconsider my daily visit.
By all means, read it.
I love Dominic's random irresponsible encouragement. The world needs a lot more of that, maybe he should patent and promote it.
I so identify with this poem I should weep. The final lines,
"and who wants to be here, when home is so nicer
with its puppy dogs tails, and its sugar and spicer
and there's no con artists, selling kegs for a treasure
and there's no closing time, just bed at your leisure
no queueing for taxis or trembling sins
life's much more relaxing on a quiet night in"
is perfection. Yeah, lose the "s".
Thanks Peter, I shall think about that alternative title,
Acorn, poetry is such a powerful thing sometimes :-) very kind of you to give the go ahead.
Thanks Titus, am starting to feel sorry for that little s now... with everyone just ganging up on it!! Actually maybe I'm more embarrassed - I'm like "I can't believe I let that stupid s into my poem!!"
Anyway - thanks for the courage folks
Are you sure about that when you say "My hair is always tangled and crude... a side effect of poeticness"? Could it perhaps be the other way around? That poetry comes from tangled and crude hair? Personally, I hope not, as I am quite bald, but who knows?
Either way, I go with John Lennon when he said that "madness is the first sign of dandruff". Just in case, I try to avoid dark shirts.
Sounds like a question for the "Making Sense of things" series...
I shall conduct some research and report back asap
Post a Comment