So this was it, the Holy Grail right now, a poetry reading come Saturday morning in my hometown
I’d invite a few friends, not too many just in case the penny might drop that I’m taking this whole thing far too seriously, a few people who will always and forever swim about my poetry
I especially look forward to a visit put paid by one Rupert Perrott, a fine man, a man who went through a different kind of pain altogether, so much so I believe it will always be impossible to explain through the written word the true downfall cancer had gone about causing him
Was I being absurd, a little naive to think that I could manage something like this, pitted with a deft ear, a relatively talented wit when it came to what I felt the need to write
I do hope that he and his wife, Frankie, get to lap it up, a poem dedicated to him, the kind that I liked to write even though the mere thought of his painstaking hardship left me with a certain degree of disdain, only for the illness of course
That poison coursing through his veins
A crux for sure, his a hardened battle oh so very pure, all there inside of his poem “Keep on smiling”, which I am proud to say sits inside of his home, framed for all of you to see
What will come next, after the reading? I well and truly don’t know, not a notion, just my pen and a taste for things, a taste for coming out with a new kind of literary potion
I sip my beer here, wondering what it really takes, do I need to forsake all of the doubters, the people with far too much clout about themselves, quite possibly the ones who weren’t able to remain strong when it came to their own dreams
I can tell you this much for nothing, I’m going to remain forever keen, mark my words