Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Tuesday Poem: In the nation’s bookshop chains


First, forced relocations
lower lodgings in some
draughty cul-de-sac
less room, less light.

All the while
unexplained disappearances
James K, Hone, Ruth, others
gone, gone and not replaced.

Those left behind, thin-spined
less popular, lean on each other
take bets on who will be
the last one standing.

Finally, denial of identity
removal of signs
pointing to pleasure troves
proclaiming different-ness.

Survivors now suffer
mass assimilation and burial
in short stories, non-fiction
literature, or classics.

Poetry? Nah mate
don’t stock it any more
waste of bloody space
nobody buys the stuff.

I wrote this poem some years ago after observing the gradual decrease in poetry titles carried by the major bookshops. If anything, it seems to be getting worse.

Visit Tuesday Poem for more.

2 comments:

  1. Indeed - sadly, this poem gets more apt with each passing year.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Nice poem! - and a subject dear to every poet's heart. -- It's hard to know how many poets there are if you look at the big chain stores. But surely with so many great poetry books out this year - someone (besides Rona Gallery) must be selling them :)

    ReplyDelete

Search This Blog

Followers