I found this heading on a blogpost the other day and I realised how many different kinds of bloggers there are and how different our preferred reading matter is. Now, anyone who has read this blog before knows that I love poetry, it is a totally natural part of my life. I read poetry, discuss poetry in a poetry group and generally find it life-enhancing. I search out other lovers of poetry in blogland who introduce me to poets and poems hitherto unknown to me and I am grateful that they should take the time do so.
Certainly, the phrase “not another bloody poem” smacked me right between the eyes.
But there are blogs and blogposts which leave me yawning, irritated and even annoyed.
“Hi, it’s me again; a bunch of us went to the cinema/pictures and we saw xyz which was good/bad/indifferent. We had popcorn and ice cream and laughed a lot”.
Unless one of you choked on the popcorn, dripped ice cream down somebody’s collar or you were evicted for lewd behaviour, I don’t want to know.
“Freddie had football/soccer practice and he fell over in the mud and he was sooo muddy and I had to wash piles of muddy clothes. Kids, eh?”
Unless Freddy ran on his hands and headed three goals into the back of the net or choked in the mud, I don’t want to know.
“Hubby was sooo cross when he came home from work because traffic round the gyratory system was really awful and he was late for his favourite soap”.
No accident, didn’t write off the car, didn’t have sex with his secretary in the back of the car? Don’t tell me.
Right, all together now: YOU DON’T HAVE TO READ THIS. Of course, I don’t.
But you, the poetry hater, don’t have to read the poetry blog either.
To end on a literary note, here's what Thomas Babington Macaulay (1800-1859) had to say on the subject
Perhaps no person can be a poet, or can even enjoy poetry,
without a certain unsoundness of mind.
and that, friends, is good enough for me.