Heaney didn’t know what to do with himself
He’d just won the ‘Nobel Peace Prize’
My God
If you’d seen the mesmerising glare in his eyes
Real recognition
For a talent running the core
Talent which makes each and every one of his
Reader’s eyes sore
Staying up all night
No coffee break
The washing and cleaning never get done
‘Til they’ve lapped up his every pun
Back to Heaney…
How on earth did he do that?
Churning all of the goodness out
Making it on time to his next reading
One in a long line
His voice had to go flat
From the reading
The conversing afterwards
People trying to get to him
Using their mental swords
Is that what I want?
A ‘Nobel Peace Prize’
To call my own
In gaining real recognition
Although thinking about it some more
My writing by then will have long since turned on its ignition
A step too far most definitely
Because I rhyme a lot more than Heaney
Although that said
‘Mid-Term Break’ rhymed
When I read it over and over again
The other night in bed
So there’s a lot to think about there
While I sit it out in my brother’s chair
Have I really got Heaney’s kind of flair
Or am I destined to be an also-ran
My vast array of poems only ever
To be read by my mother, my father
My dear old nan?
Only time will tell
So do what my mother once told me
Enjoy the ride along the way
And if I do get recognition
Stay on the right track
The same as I am right now
Don’t let my head sway
What with all the pressure
The stauncher people
Looking to trip me up with their ready-made landmines