The BBC is having a poetry season. I haven't heard any of the poems broadcast, I'm just guessing that they won't be my kind of poetry. I like poetry but, being a simple soul, I don't like anything too abstract or metaphysical (not even sure what that means). Nor do I like stuff about nature and the countryside, or declarations of love.
My kind of poetry is straightforward, punchy, maybe witty, maybe lary, almost always short. Also I like political protest stuff, sticking it to "the man", having a pop at the ruling class. I also like poems about the condition of the working class, to borrow a phrase of F. Engels. Idris Davies, now there's a poet I can get along with. Joe Corrie too, he's bound to get a nod.
Some of the poetry I like might be classified as doggerel by more knowledgeable people. Still, if it pleases me it goes into my anthology, i.e., it's scribbled down in a notebook, or on a piece of paper tucked inside a book. One day I'm going to type it all out on this machine and put it on a memory stick - my anthology.
As a start to this mighty project I'm going to have my own poetry season. I intend to type a few poems I like into this blog then save them on some or other device.
I begin with one of Alex Comfort's, one that, although written decades ago chimes with the zeitgeist -

TOP DOG
(For my tripehound)

My puppyhood convinced my mother
that I was destined to be great -
avoiding my more vigorous brother
I bit my weaker litter mate:
I am a minister of state.

An idle cynophilic race
demands the cur to make it run -
the lapdog voice, the poodle-face
denote the leader. I am one;
the biggest bitch's eldest son.

I do the mischief I am able,
I make the best of what I get -
keeping me is my country's foible:
I am an inexpensive pet -
there is no filth I will not eat.

From squalid noise I will not cease
until run over or put down.
My statue in a public place
will have it's fitting honours done
by all the other dogs in town.