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I just got a letter from United Press asking my permission (MY PERMISSION) to publish a poem in a collection called Still Life. The poem? It seems to be everyones favourite - An Inner Monologue Of A Teddybear, which goes..
I sit, angle poised, my beady eyes see all
Sulking in dust and waiting for my time to come
The gift that lived for a day before being abandoned on a high shelf
Never to be played with again
Devoid of love, my stitching intact
But I yearn to be battered and bruised though overuse
My stuffing doesn’t spill out at the seams as it rightfully should
It sits neatly inside me
My flimsily stitched limbs, attached
Not amiably dangling off, dog eared and sick stained
I’m not the comfort tool I wish to be, but a decorative prop
In the play known as life
Gift tag still sewn and neat
My fur is thick, not healthily worn away
I bear no scars nor marks of amusement that I beg for
I sit here, angle poised
--- Apparently the poem made it to the final selection stages to appear in the national anthology (which would have got me a financial reward) but just didnt make it sadly. There are only 100 poems in the final anthology and there were something like 10,000 entries - so I didnt do too badly I dont think.
The book called Still Life is availible in October and will be availible from large bookstores or online at unitedpress.co.uk.
Also my poem Politics was published in an anthology this month by ForwardPress - I've forgotten the anthology name, though.
I sit, angle poised, my beady eyes see all
Sulking in dust and waiting for my time to come
The gift that lived for a day before being abandoned on a high shelf
Never to be played with again
Devoid of love, my stitching intact
But I yearn to be battered and bruised though overuse
My stuffing doesn’t spill out at the seams as it rightfully should
It sits neatly inside me
My flimsily stitched limbs, attached
Not amiably dangling off, dog eared and sick stained
I’m not the comfort tool I wish to be, but a decorative prop
In the play known as life
Gift tag still sewn and neat
My fur is thick, not healthily worn away
I bear no scars nor marks of amusement that I beg for
I sit here, angle poised
--- Apparently the poem made it to the final selection stages to appear in the national anthology (which would have got me a financial reward) but just didnt make it sadly. There are only 100 poems in the final anthology and there were something like 10,000 entries - so I didnt do too badly I dont think.
The book called Still Life is availible in October and will be availible from large bookstores or online at unitedpress.co.uk.
Also my poem Politics was published in an anthology this month by ForwardPress - I've forgotten the anthology name, though.
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I just got a letter from United Press asking my permission (MY PERMISSION) to publish a poem in a collection called Still Life. The poem? It seems to be everyones favourite - An Inner Monologue Of A Teddybear, which goes..
I sit, angle poised, my beady eyes see all
Sulking in dust and waiting for my time to come
The gift that lived for a day before being abandoned on a high shelf
Never to be played with again
Devoid of love, my stitching intact
But I yearn to be battered and bruised though overuse
My stuffing doesn’t spill out at the seams as it rightfully should
It sits neatly inside me
My flimsily stitched limbs, attached
Not amiably dangling off, dog eared and sick stained
I’m not the comfort tool I wish to be, but a decorative prop
In the play known as life
Gift tag still sewn and neat
My fur is thick, not healthily worn away
I bear no scars nor marks of amusement that I beg for
I sit here, angle poised
--- Apparently the poem made it to the final selection stages to appear in the national anthology (which would have got me a financial reward) but just didnt make it sadly. There are only 100 poems in the final anthology and there were something like 10,000 entries - so I didnt do too badly I dont think.
The book called Still Life is availible in October and will be availible from large bookstores or online at unitedpress.co.uk.
Also my poem Politics was published in an anthology this month by ForwardPress - I've forgotten the anthology name, though.
I sit, angle poised, my beady eyes see all
Sulking in dust and waiting for my time to come
The gift that lived for a day before being abandoned on a high shelf
Never to be played with again
Devoid of love, my stitching intact
But I yearn to be battered and bruised though overuse
My stuffing doesn’t spill out at the seams as it rightfully should
It sits neatly inside me
My flimsily stitched limbs, attached
Not amiably dangling off, dog eared and sick stained
I’m not the comfort tool I wish to be, but a decorative prop
In the play known as life
Gift tag still sewn and neat
My fur is thick, not healthily worn away
I bear no scars nor marks of amusement that I beg for
I sit here, angle poised
--- Apparently the poem made it to the final selection stages to appear in the national anthology (which would have got me a financial reward) but just didnt make it sadly. There are only 100 poems in the final anthology and there were something like 10,000 entries - so I didnt do too badly I dont think.
The book called Still Life is availible in October and will be availible from large bookstores or online at unitedpress.co.uk.
Also my poem Politics was published in an anthology this month by ForwardPress - I've forgotten the anthology name, though.
Page: