Having just realised that the poem I posted a few minutes ago had already been on the website since mid-January, here is a replacement in which I doff my cap (yet again) to the talents of Macclesfield-based poet and friend, Mark Rawlins.
New Year’s Resolution: Mark My Words
My resolution’s write like Mark,
always rhythmic, often dark.
His politics are sharp and swingeing.
He has the Tory true blues cringing.
His words drill through you, never bore.
His skilful use of metaphor
and simile flash like the stars,
is red and shimmers, just like Mars;
alliteration boldly broaches,
our subconscious minds encroaches.
Adept with onomatopoeia:
clitter clatter, bing bang hear
and never once do his words clunk,
even when his subject’s punk.
Imagine Mark with hair in spikes
and bovver boots in place of Nikes,
kite high, crowd surfing to The Clash an’
studs and chains the height of fashion.
In Verse v Verse, his repetition
sees off all the competition,
sees off all the competition
(in my case, with expedition).
It’s so unfair. It ain’t half gallin’
Sod it! I’ll leave it to Mark Rawlins.