My City is one of itinerant Poets,
Some internationally known,
But there are many others,
All off us home grown,
And we tour the area
Taking in turn to drive the car,
And we perform open Mic
In pub, and club and bar
Hoping people will listen
To what we have to tell:
Listen up you folks,
Poetry is alive and well.
At Festivals, libraries
Even the odd care home,
We pass on our message
Wherever we may roam:
Poetry is about life,
About misery, and humour,
Dealing with the facts, maybe
Scotching ill founded rumour,
It's a weapon of the people
Bringing injustices out
It's quite an effective way of
Holding our rulers to account.
It's about love, life and death
It can make you laugh or cry
Maybe if can perform the task of
Just asking the question, Why.
And if listeners get bored
Then your poetry is too long
And if they don't understand
Your message Is all wrong.
This is a city of poetry
Most of us are home grown
And we perform for pleasure
A few being internationally known.
