Events have diverted my attention from the current poetry season. Time to round it off.
No complete poem here, but some quotations from poems I'd like to print in full, but my understanding of copyright + internet is not up to the job.
First a poem by Maurice Rutherford on my bête noire, Larkin, and his standing among the majority of my fellow citizens. M.R. calls him "Old Bikeclips" as the man was wont to cycle around in search of places of interest in the city he despised.

THE VIEW FROM HESSLE ROAD
(Maurice Rutherford)

Old Bikeclips with the size 12 oxfords wrote,
but eloquently, of a cut-price crowd
...
let's say we told those grim and head-scarved wives
from fishy-smelling streets that they were owed
a swipe at Hull's late bard 'Oozee?' perhaps
they'd gob out from the side of their own lives
'We've never 'eard of 'im down 'Ezzle Road.
No, bollocks. Poetsarra ... crowdacraps.'

The italics mark out Larkin's words. The last line echoes Larkin's - "Books are a load of crap", from one of his poems.

Douglas Young was, among other things, a poet, mainly in the Scots tongue. He was, during World War 2, leader of the Scottish Nationalist Party. He refused to serve in the armed forces, and claimed that a Scot could not be legally compelled to serve in the 'English Army'. For this stance he was imprisoned in Saughton Jail, Edinburgh, where he acted as an unofficial shop steward representing the inmates in their dealings with the prison staff.

A BALLAD FOR DOUGLAS YOUNG
(Sydney Goodsir Smith)

Douglas Young they've pitten by
In Saughton jail is he
He bides mang thae that rob and rape
That stude for Scotland free.

He testified gin unricht bonds
They tighter pu' the chains.

...

But bide a wee , me bonnie Lords
There's twa can play yir game
And we'll hae Doglas oot again
And Scotland rule her ain.

(The poem is printed in full here)