I’m beginning to realise that it is a waste of time sending poems to celebrities . They never reply. I sent a sonnet to Stephen Fry. It’s called:
How sonnets go [or not.]
Petrarchan sonnets rhyme A B B A
Shakespearean ones go A B then A B
In this way writers show their poem to be
a sonnet in the bard of Avon’s style. (A
different choice means that it’s not to be.) A
variation in the pattern thus be-
tokens style and form, revealing that a
choice was made, ignoring which would be
a bad mistake, as readers may not see
the poem’s worth. It might be a grand tour de
force; more likely a mere exercise see-
king to conflate two forms, a parody
of what the poet set out to write;
a flimsy mixture, intricate but trite.
I thought that would appeal to Stephen Fry, but what do I know? I’m the man who sent a poem to the trio at Top Gear. (A poem for Top Gear?!). What was I thinking? I think I thought that if any poem was likely to appeal to Jeremy Clarkson, it would be this one. all hubris of course, they never replied. (It’s a spoof on Leisure by William Henry Davies, by the way) –
What is this life if standing still
We miss the chance to feel the thrill
Of driving round at headlong speed
Not caring where the highways lead?
If full of sloth we miss the chance
To drive Bugattis across France?
If slow to think, we miss the boat
And watch the girl on whom we dote
Float out of reach into the arms
Of someone else, with speedier charms?
There is not time to stand and stare.
Life’s brief and tough, we’re all aware.
A poor life then if full of care
We stand aside and simply glare.