24 Feb 2016 – Poets

The balls of a poet must be knit of leather,
a man’s or a woman’s – it doesn’t much matter.
Since praise and derision pass by like the weather,
one day the crowds love you, the next day they’ve scattered.

So say all you must, make it raw – make it gritty!
Somebody, somewhere, will loathe you for saying it,
while others will sing in the streets of your city,
but mostly the world simply won’t give a shit!