Poet

Last week I found an old poem that an ex-student had written. It was about an angry, educated kid, whose head was caught between street and smart. I must have said I liked to write, so this guy, James, bought some of his writing to show me.It was all this rhyming, effortless, angry poetry from this young guy. It was so good.

          I showed the poem to my sixteen year old son. "Mm,mm, that's not bad, still," he said nodding, as it did sound current, even over ten years later- (which is a shame really, as it means young people are still faced with the same issues and problems.)
We spoke about those days for a while, my son and I. The days when he was four and five and I used to drive him to his nice, private school before I went on to work. Those were the days when I had money- the days before I wanted to write full time!