Beneath the pre-pubescent prose
she signs herself ‘L.B.’
One wonders why - one must suppose
for anonymity.
Her use of English is so poor it’s
obvious that shame
precludes that final confidence,
the signing of her name.
The lines are limp with clichés:
‘hushed hall’ and ‘loud and clear’,
‘declaiming’ - hand the kid her
cards (or kick her up the rear).
I think I’ll send a dictionary,
she’s utterly confused,
equating ängst with wonder, joy - 4B would be amused!
Her poor grasp of semantics has
undermined her jibes -
she calls her targets ‘notable’
(which gives them pleasant vibes!):
“...industrious and clever,
remarkable and wise,
worthy to be noted...” Yes! praise them to the skies.
Select? That’s they, the
“...chosen, picked out, exclusive, choice...”
It isn’t what she meant to say in
snooty, sneering voice!
Poor child, one should be sorry -
she thinks free verse has rhyme;
she cannot have been following
three-quarters of the time.
She missed the point continuously
- too busy being smart;
she thinks that poetry is out,
that ugliness is art.
She couldn’t see the death-bed (she thought it was a goose),
debased the childhood innocence,
thought sex was on the loose.
No doubt she thought calypso a high-proof make of rum,
the milky way a chocolate bar - as ignorant as they come;
no doubt she didn’t understand the
mention of Beirut,
too busy being know-it-all and
sticking in the boot.
Last year’s review a contrast -
not only is it kind,
it’s a great deal better written
by a lady with a mind;
she made no play with callow jibe,
with cliché or with smear
although she held opinions and
made them very clear;
she had a fine perception,
responded to each mood.
She also had humility. She also wasn’t rude.
(June,
1991)
- a snarl at the Malvern Gazette
who sent a cub reporter to the poetry
evening of the Malvern Fringe, a
girl who did not like or appreciate
poetry and who only thought that
those who did should be ridiculed.
