My favourite poem that I've written

It's a question I am often asked, when I visit schools and elsewhere: what is my favourite poem that I've written? When it comes to my writing for children, I often reply that it is my piece 'I Don't Like Poetry', the poem for which I am probably best known. However, the poem that is closest to my heart may be one that was not written for children. The poem is called 'Here We All Are', and you can read it HERE. When I wrote this poem I wanted to aim high in terms of publication, so I sent it out to all the fancy journals, all of whom rejected it. All, that is, except one: I was delighted when the poem found a home in Poetry Wales, where it was published in November 2023. The poem touches deeply on my Welsh ancestry, so this was probably my first choice home for it in any case. 

Why is this poem so special to me? It's really hard to say. The poem tackles aspects of family history that lie deeply buried within my family's and my community's collective psyche. In Seamus Heaney's famous poem 'Digging', he states that, since he is not suited to digging with a spade, he will take his pen "and dig with it." 'Here We All Are' is probably the poem in which it feels like I am digging deepest.

When I was a teenager, I had Larkin's 'This Be the Verse' taped up on my bedroom wall. Being the cynical, sardonic little smartarse that I was, this poem spoke to me deeply - "They F you up, your mum and dad" - damn straight they do! The subsequent verses, about man "hand[ing] on mysery to man", which then "deepen[s] like a coastal shelf", gave my teenage mind the permission to impute my supposed failings (of which I perceived there to be many) onto something else, namely the generations before me.

As I've grown up, I feel I have lost the misanthropy that led me to put Larkin's poem on my wall. But I have maintained an interest in psychoanalysis, in particular the concept of intergeneration trauma, as discussed by Peter Fonagy and others. 'Here We All Are' does not have Larkin's curmudgeonliness, but it retains a kind of psychoanalytically-informed unease at the state of the human condition. 

Sorry. I know that last sentence sounds very pretentious. To put it bluntly: I think 'Here We All Are', perhaps more than any other poem I've written, says what it wants to say. I try to say the truth; I try to say it succinctly, withour pretention, and in a way that does it justice. I'm not saying I think it is an amazing poem; I'm just saying that I think it does most of what I want it to do, which is to tell the truth about family history, and the reality of what it means to have an ancestry in the first place. 

the edition of Poetry Wales in which my poem is published

Isn't It Weird

to think that everyone

was once a baby?

I was once a baby, and so were you.

Your parents – they were once babies too.

Even your Great Aunt Beryl,

with her hairy chin and shrivelled skin like a prune,

she was once a baby.

Maybe not a very attractive baby,

but a baby nonetheless.

Your teachers?

Your teachers were once babies.

Every single one of them.

And that teaching assistant

who seems about a million years old,

she was once – you guessed it – a baby.

She may even have been

a very cute, squishy baby.

And also your…

you know what, it doesn’t matter!

whoever you think of –

they were once a baby.

A teeny, tiny little baby.

Isn’t that weird?

Joshua Seigal

Cocky

My chicken’s strutting round the place

as though she owns the farm.

She puffs her chest and flaps her wings

with self-regarding smarm.

She scorns the goat, condemns the cow

and disrespects the pig.

My chicken’s full of arrogance – 

her eggo’s rather big.

Joshua Seigal

Joshua Seigal Features on BBC London News Talking About Young Poet Laureate Programme

I was really excited to be told that my visit to Oxford Gardens Primary School, London, would be featured on the BBC News! The visit was to promote the Young Poet Laureate Programme, which I have been working on in collaboration with the National Literacy Trust and the National Poetry Centre. The people from the BBC said it would be OK for me to film my segment and stick it up on this here blog of mine, so that is what I've done. I hope you enjoy it. Hi Mum!!! 

Pupils perform my poem 'I Don't Like Poetry'

My best known poem is probably 'I Don't Like Poetry', which was originally published in my book of the same name, and which you can read here. I was delighted when Mr. Smerin from Mathilda Marks Primary School in London got in touch with me, to say that Gabriella and Lielle from the school had been learning the poem for performance. With his permission, I am extremely excited to be able to share the videos on my blog. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

Fear

Sometimes no other

words are needed.

No scuba diving

into the unconscious,

no scrambling after

rationalisations, metaphors,

symbols. And sometimes

no challenge is necessary –

no contrived interlocutors,

no make-believe bullies

to pin down onto the mat.

Everything is – 

it’s not going away.

And fear’s at the feast.

And that’s OK.

Joshua Seigal

Opposites

It’s funny, isn’t it, how life

can feel like its very opposite.

Life is change, and change

is the death of what went before.

So life can feel like death. 

And a life sentence can feel like a death sentence.

Take having a baby. Why does it feel

like the act of bringing new life

into the world is the act of killing the self?

Is this a good thing? Was it a self

that needed to die

so that it could be reborn into a bigger self,

a self that encompasses more love,

a self that lives all the more?

Perhaps death must occur in order that life

be more fully actualised… I think of all this

as I watch your face.

Your amazing, beautiful face.

A thousand lives behind those eyes.

To Life! Let us live.

And let us die so that we may live all the more.

Joshua Seigal 

Since You Left

there are blizzards in the kitchen. 

Plates pile up on the surfaces

as gusts haul the door shut.

And there’s drought in the bathroom.

Water flows through unseen pipes – 

too deep to be gathered – 

whilst in the living room monsoons soak

the books, get into the circuitry of the TV.

Rain persecutes the window.

And the bedroom? The bedroom is a desert.

I traverse the blazing dunes alone now,

sand catching in my throat.

Joshua Seigal

an inspiring poem from East Acton Primary School

I had the pleasure today of visiting the wonderful East Acton Primary School in, well, East Acton. I'd like to share this inspirational poem that was written during my workshop with Year 6. The poet asked not to be named, but was happy for me to share her lovely poem on my blog. Here it is. I hope you like it as much as I do, and agree that the young poet should be very proud of herself!

a fun, silly poem

 

Me, as a Child, Watching my Grown up Self Perform

I’ve got all this mud on my trousers

from when I did a sliding tackle in the field

at breaktime. Sam said it was a foul

and James sent me off. Who even allowed 

James to be ref anyway? You can’t be ref

and play in the match, that makes no sense.

The score ended up 7-5, but we’ll carry on

the game at lunch. And I’ve got this scab

which is really annoying. I really don’t understand

the maths homework but I don’t want to ask Mum

for help again, she might think I’m stupid.

If she doesn’t already. Yesterday we went

on a trip to the zoo. I’ve been there millions

of times before so it wasn’t that interesting.

Apart from the lemurs, I always like looking

at the lemurs. I think all the lemurs at the zoo

are female. Or male. I can’t remember. Anyway,

this mud on my trousers is really annoying,

and the scab is starting to bleed from where

I’ve been picking it. Joel catches my eye

and gives a smirk. Who is this idiot in front of us?

He seems like he thinks he’s funny.

Some kind of comedian. I Don’t Like Poetry?

Yeah, you’re right, dude. I don’t.

Joshua Seigal

Linguistic Relativity

In the beginning

was the Word

so I guess that means

I’ve found 

my great-great-great-great-grammar.

Joshua Seigal

Quality Joke

Never make a cuppa

from the eucalyptus tree – 

I must conclude,

it’s leaves, when brewed

are poor koala-tea.

Joshua Seigal 

No Cheers

I go to the pub

and I don’t like the drinks – 

the ale’s all watery.

Frankly, it stinks. 

It’s fake and synthetic – 

to hell with the lot!

A faux beer phobia – 

that’s what I’ve got.

Joshua Seigal

a special poem for HALLOWEEN

THREE WORDS 

I know words to give you nightmares.

I know words to make you fret. 

I know words to give you terrors.

I know words to make you sweat. 

When you listen to these words 

you’ll squawk and scream and run away.

When I whisper in your ear

you’ll not keep misery at bay. 

I know words to scald your innards. 

I know words to chill your bones. 

I know words to give you torture.

I know words to give you moans. 

These three words are known to frighten. 

Terrorise – that’s what they do. 

Take a breath and listen closely:

These three words are

I

LOVE
YOU!

Joshua Seigal

Strange Prison

This is a strange kind of prison.

Its walls are made of ‘I do’,

its barred windows from ‘I love you’

and, technically, you can leave

if you choose

but there’s a bigger prison

outside these walls;

the barred windows look out

onto horrors too great

to comprehend. Yes this

is a strange prison indeed – 

a box within a bigger box,

a storm in the eye

of a storm bigger still…

I lie on my bed

and contemplate the ceiling – 

those strange, intricate patterns.

Joshua Seigal

Using Poetry To Inspire Students

When I finish a poetry workshop with a group of pupils, I normally go through the same schtick. I tell the students, who have all written their own poems, that I am a poet, and now they are too! My intention is to demonstrate that, regardless of their preconceptions, producing a poem need not be an arduous process – it can be fun!

I had a similar point in mind when I mischievously titled my first book ‘I Don’t Like Poetry’. I wanted, essentially, to write a book of poems for people who might think they don’t like poetry. Again, preconceptions are toyed with and, hopefully, refuted.

However, what if people come away from one of my workshops and think to themselves ‘well, I may have just written a poem, but I am still definitely not a poet’? What if they then go further and tell themselves that they don’t even want to be a poet? And what if, after reading one of my books or watching one of my performances, they still don’t like poetry? Have I then failed in my mission?

I really don’t think so. I am coming increasingly to believe that poetry is sort of incidental to my work. I happen to enjoy expressing myself using that medium, but I don’t really intend to create legions of fellow poets in my wake. It is probably quite unlikely that a large proportion of my students will go on to write their own poems on a regular basis, and it is unlikelier still that many of them will be inspired enough by me to pursue it as a profession.

The goal of what I do is instead to inspire my students to have confidence in and pursue their own interests, whatever those may be. Someone may well come away from meeting me and think ‘Josh is a poet, and if he can make that work, maybe I really can become a basketball player’. This, in my books, equals mission accomplished.

With this in mind, I think it might be time for me to reassess my schtick. I don’t think there is anything wrong with telling a group of students that they are all now poets, upon completion of one of my workshops, but I think I need to tweak the message slightly, and to add that they may choose not to be poets anymore after a while, but as long as they feel inspired in some way, in whatever way, then that is what I am there for. Poetry is the vehicle, but it may not be the destination.

A Gift

A Gift 

For Christmas we purchased

a gift for our cat –

a house with a blanket,

some toys and a mat. 

She’s made it her home now.

She thinks it quite pleasant. 

Our cat is a wise one – 

she lives in the present.

Joshua Seigal

'I Don't Like Poetry' featured on the Indian curriculum

I am very happy to announce that my poem 'I Don't Like Poetry' is featured in an Indian textbook, published by Good Luck Publishers. Hopefully what this means is that squillions of children will read it. Hopefully they will enjoy it! (NB, the poem should not be centred; the publishers did that without my say so. The poem was written to be left aligned.)

The Myth Buster

I am the Myth Buster. 

I go around Busting Myths.

I kick them over like pathetic little sandcastles.

I pop them like balloons at a toddler’s birthday party.

The other day I saw a Myth in the garden

and I Busted it with my special Myth-Busting shotgun,

laughing as it limped away.

If you find yourself bedevilled by unwanted Myths,

why not give me a call? I’ll charge a fair

and reasonable price to Bust it for you

and I’ll only make you feel a little bit stupid in return.

See, the world is made of Myths, simply waiting

to be Busted. Waiting for me to come and Bust them.

So come one, come all.

Form an orderly queue.

My finger is itchy on the trigger.

Joshua Seigal

Eyebrows

Eyebrows, Oh eyebrows,

you sit on my face.

You clutch my visage

in your kindly embrace.

You’re ever dependable,

loyal and true,

although I confess

I don’t know what you do. 

Eyebrows, Oh eyebrows,

a present from God – 

without you one’s mug

is ineffably odd.

Like two caterpillars

you’re covered in hair. 

This poem’s to tell you

I’m glad that you’re there.

Joshua Seigal

[inspired by the main man Jack Prelutsky]

Poem for Warren Mead Primary School, Surrey

I spent Monday working with the wonderful pupils of Warren Mead Primary School in Banstead, Surrey. I worked with each class, from Nursery right up to Year 6, where we gathered ideas for a school poem to display in their brand new library. I had such fun, and it was a real honour and privilege to be invited to do this. Here, then, is the poem I (or I should say 'we') came up with.

What We’re Made Of

for Warren Mead School

Challenges faced and overcome

A brand new word, a difficult sum

A friendly face when we’re feeling glum – 

That’s what we are made of. 

Incredible teachers, inspiring art

Kinship and honesty straight from the heart

A community, everyone doing their part – 

That’s what we are made of. 

Excellence, courage and kindness too

Picking up litter along with the crew

Playtime pals for me and you – 

That’s what we are made of. 

A wake up alarm and a trip on the bus

An ABC and a – and +

Ready, Respectful, Safe, that’s us

Yes these are the things we are made of! 

By Joshua Seigal, with help and input from the pupils at Warren Mead 

When Dad Watched Football

He shouts and pouts and kicks the cat.

He chucks things at the wall.

He groans with indignation

and he can’t calm down at all. 

He spills his drink and swears at Mum.

He points and jabs and screams.

His face goes red. I’m filled with dread

as Dad berates the teams.

He moans and he gesticulates

with patience wearing thin.

It’s really quite the spectacle…

and that’s just when we win.

Joshua Seigal