A number of friends and contacts were begged, blandished, bullied and blagged into contributing items to this issue. As a result of their enthusiasm and generosity the Editor has had to leave a lot of excellent material on file. Much of it may appear in future editions.
His huge thanks go to all those who have contributed their work, not for cash, malt whisky or book tokens but simply for the promise of a brief editorial mention to include a website Link and, hopefully, useful references to their publication successes. Also, and perhaps less wisely, to random biographical details chosen at the whim of the Editor - a practice which will continue in respect of all future contributors.
The illustrations, including the wonderfully doleful-but-resigned-to-it-all bust at the head of the Home Page, are by Will Nice.
To make sure you scroll to the bottom of the contributors' list, here are two relevant and heartfelt items of my own:
The Poet's Song
A poet’s lot is not a happy one
As he tries to make a living from his verse.
There’s no recognition, income, fame or fun
For his chance of publication can’t be worse.
Too few publishers will help a living poet
By enabling him to get his new work read.
Though the sods may like his work they seldom show it;
They much prefer their poets to be dead.
It’s the late ones who bring in vast sums of money.
You can earn a better living once you’re dead.
For the struggling current poet it’s not funny
That it’s corpses who are earning all the bread.
So to make ends meet what I should now be doing
Is to buy a knife and go and cut my throat.
Then my royalties will surely start accruing
When they posthumously publish what I wrote.
First published in The Spectator, also appears in 'Pick n’ Mix'
Enough is Enough
A few crisp lines should be enough
to satisfy the poetry buff.
Poetry should be short and pacey.
So cut out crap. Rethink and précis.
Surplus words will never please, or
justify your killing trees for.