Poetry club

This week I attended poetry club, a name that I think is cooler to say than the ‘Gerard Manley Hopkin’s Youth Programme’. My friend and I, being the nerds that we are, thought it would be fun. Arriving the first day, I suspected that I may be greeted with a number of pretentious wannabe poets. I was wrong. Nearly everyone there made me internally scream ‘please be my friend’ and luckily many must’ve heard my inner begging. I’ve gained a number of new Snapchat & Facebook friends and even a few Instagram & Tumblr follows.

And lucky there were so many likable and charismatic individuals because wow could it get boring. Try sitting through an hour of some old monotone voiced professor discussing Hopkins’ ‘fascinating’ religious conversion. Poetry club united with coping mechanisms to get through some of these endless lectures. These included pretending to write notes while actually writing poems or doodling (one lad drew incredibly realistic sketches of the speakers), sleeping or practicing our ‘oh that’s interesting’ face. I opted for the third option; raising my eyebrows and nodding my head slightly with my hand placed on my chin.

Don’t get me wrong though, there were entertaining activities too. Highlights included being the model of a kimono, listening to a pep talk by a John Keating wannabe and speculating about Hopkins’ yeast infection and Donne’s sexual BDSM desires with God.

Our dreaded challenge for the week was to write our own poem and perform it on the last day. I wrote approximately 10 poems until I finally settled on one that I thought was semi-acceptable. It’s primarily made up of words beginning with ‘p’ (gotta love alliteration), I believe it would be best recited by Mr Lawler from That’s So Raven.

I’ll leave you with a poem I wrote to sum up the week (it includes a number of inside jokes, you probably won’t get, oops I’m that annoying person who references inside jokes).

Poetry Club

Welcome to poetry club.

First rule of poetry club,
Be a wanker.
Go to SBC, for this, you can thank her.

Second rule: Do not rhyme.
It is simply a colossal crime.

Third rule: Do not listen to the second rule.
Just play the fool.
“Oh Will, it was accidental,
please don’t go bloody mental”.

Fourth rule: Always accompany Gemma to lunch.
It’s long to walk but sure we make a banterful bunch.

Fifth rule: Try your best to not look bored,
Don’t be known, like Rebecca, as the one who snored.

Final rule: Isn’t Bruno lovely?
Okay so this isn’t a rule but we all just wanna be his buddy.







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