The Daily Poem

Day 54

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The Mead from Odin’s Arse

I’ve recently been reading Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology. It’s very good, which should surprise no one. One of the stories is called The Mead of the Poets, and while I enjoyed the story and, to a degree, agree with the sentiment, I was rather disappointed by it, because it smacked of elitism and snobbery. I think elitism in poetry is off-putting and, more often than not, pretentious and unwarranted, and that writers of Neil Gaiman’s stature should feel secure enough to rise above it.

As a footnote, a few days after reading the story I saw Neil Gaiman making a guest appearance on The Big Bang Theory. He has all of the on-screen charisma and presence of a fencepost, but I would be the last person to suggest he should leave acting to “actors” if he and his friends derive pleasure from it…

My poems lack style, my poems lack class
My rhymes so contrived they would leave you aghast
The narrative structures are borderline farce
They’re the mead from Odin’s arse.

My poems aren’t clever, their meanings are clear
They’re not just for poets or wordsmiths to hear
They’re never pretentious and metaphor’s sparse
They’re the mead from Odin’s arse.

I’m not really sure what a poem should be
But I think if you take it too seriously
You sound like a twat with your head up your arse
And poems like that…?
…Well thanks, but I’ll pass

 

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