I know poetry is not for everyone. Whenever I start sharing my enthusiasm for the joy of verse, another voice pops up in my head: that of the schoolboy Nigel Molesworth, the self-styled “curse of St. Custard’s”, a character created by the comic writer Geoffrey Willans. Here’s young Molesworth’s view (expressed in his own unique style): “You have to sa the weedy words and speke them beatifully as if you knew what they meant. Fotherington-tomas thinks this is absolutely super and when he sa he wander lonely as a cloud you think he will flote out of the window.” Although we Fotherington-Tomas types may put too much faith in “weedy words”, there can be far more to poetry than Molesworth ever gave it credit for. Indeed, in my case, it’s not an exaggeration to say that poetry saved my life.
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