JOSHUA SEIGAL'S POEM 'I DON'T LIKE POETRY' PUBLISHED IN 'ENGLISH IN EDUCATION' (ROUTLEDGE)

I am delighted to say that my poem 'I Don't Like Poetry' is published in English in Education. Ever since it was included in my first book with Bloomsbury (the book is also called I Don't Like Poetry) this has been my most popular poem.

It is a poem, and it is also a mini lesson plan. Many teachers have emailed me over the years to say they have successfully used it for English teaching in the classroom. Several have even said they used it in a job interview, and got the job!

The poem is widely anthologised, and is available to read for FREE on my website. I'm delighted that a journal like English in Education sees fit to publish it. Before becoming a professional poet, I was an academic. Maybe now I can now call myself an academic again?

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the poem. (it looks a little blurry below, but should give you a flavour of it...)

Second Birthday

For his second birthday we made a tower

on the living room floor, for him to knock over.

My sister, my mum and I, working together,

assembled the building from colourful blocks.

In the morning – the idea went – he would

be brought downstairs, would see the structure

and would rush ahead to push it down.

There he is now, two years old, gleefully shoving

over our wooden tower in the living room

on the morning of his second birthday,

the family all cheering, singing, congratulating.

What could we have known back then

of the towers he would knock down since?

And how could we have comprehended that

no cement would make the slightest difference?

Joshua Seigal 

(published in The Relationship Expert)

JOSHUA SEIGAL HAS POEM PUBLISHED IN NEW MACMILLAN ANTHOLOGY

I am delighted to have had a poem selected for publication in a brand new anthology from Macmillan. The book is called Humbug, and it is part of the 'Poetry Poisons' series edited by the wonderful Deborah Alma, who runs the Poetry Pharmacy. The series is a celebration of the 'less virtuous' emotions, and my poem is a bit, will curmudgeonly.

Now then, I have a task for you. The poem in the anthology is below this paragraph. BUT, the poem also appears in my brand new pamphlet, which is entitled The Relationship Expert. Why not compare the poems, and see if you can notice the tiny difference between them. The first person to email me with the answer gets a prize. I've not decided what the prize is. You can download my brand new pamphlet HERE. (I am delighted to have made is available as a free digital publication. Was this a very brave or a very foolish decision? Maybe neither. Maybe both.) 

Slop

AI slop, AI slop

Everywhere I turn

It’s AI slop

Get me a bucket

Get me a mop

Help me do away

With this AI slop.

AI trash, AI trash

Thought and creativity

Turned to ash

It gives me the ick

It gives me a rash

Everywhere I turn

There’s AI trash.

AI gunk, AI gunk

Looks like a mutant

Stinks like a skunk

It gives me the willies

It puts me in a funk

I open up my phone

And it’s AI gunk.

AI slop, AI slop

Someone pull the plug on it

Someone make it stop

Pass me the guillotine – 

Chop chop chop!

Let us rid the planet

Of this AI slop.

Joshua Seigal

SILLY CAT (a poem for Bluebell)

Bluebell is a Ragdoll

and she’s fluffy

and she’s fat – 

she’s a very very very very very 

silly cat!

She tries to go outside

although our home’s

her habitat – 

she’s a very very very very very 

silly cat!

She wants to get attention

so she stretches

long and flat – 

she’s a very very very very very 

silly cat!

She often leaps around

just like a crazy

acrobat – 

she’s a very very very very very 

silly cat!

There’s not much else to say

and so I guess

that that is that – 

Bluebell is a very very very Very

silly cat!

Joshua Seigal 

fat Bluebell

baby Bluebell

silly Bluebell

The Instructions

have all been written down, but still

she has trouble working the TV. She calls

me up to say the device has turned itself off

again, and could I come over and turn it

back on? Just look at the notes Nana,

I say. I wrote the instructions down for you. 

It’s a similar story with the microwave,

with its buttons seemingly designed to

perplex her. The internet is a true enigma.

I just don’t know how to manage, now

that he’s gone. The place is just so big,

so empty. And the bills, she says. Michael

used to sort the bills – now I don’t know

what to do. I try to assure her that all is OK,

all is in order, the electricity won’t run out,

the hot water won’t suddenly go cold.

She hunches into herself. Tired now. Old.

She reuses a tea bag to make a weak tea.

Joshua Seigal 

(Published in The Relationship Expert)

My Sister's Gone Missing

My sister’s gone missing. 

She’s not in her cot.

She was there yesterday 

but today she is not.

Today there is someone

I don’t recognise – 

she has different hair,

and dissimilar eyes.

She seems slightly bigger.

Her clothes aren’t the same.

Perhaps this is all

a mysterious game.

It could be a strange kind

of practical joke,

a trick that is played 

on susceptible folk.

However, I think

that I’m onto it, maybe –

my own mother said

she was changing the baby.

Joshua Seigal 

The Tip

Come one, come all!

Let’s pack that van!

Remove that mattress!

Lift that fan!

I know a place

we ought to nip – 

there’s nothing like the tip!

Its jaws are poised

to scoff detritus.

It’s the spot

that most delights us. 

Always worth

a Sunday trip – 

there’s nothing like the tip!

Let’s dump that wardrobe

in the scrap; drop

Uncle Derek’s

dodgy laptop!

Transfer all

our ownership – 

there’s nothing like the tip!

The monster’s hungry – 

let us stuff it.

We’ve got garbage – 

let us slough it.

Bid that refuse

toodle-pip – 

there’s nothing like the tip!

So come on down!

Let’s have a jettison!

After it, we’ll all feel

better, son!

It’s rad and groovy!

Cool and hip!

There’s nowhere like the tip!

Joshua Seigal

Forgetty Lettie

She forgets where she’s going and where she’s gone

She forgets the words in her lexicon

She forgets to get a haircut at the hair salon

She’d forget her head if it weren’t screwed on

She forgets Travolta’s name is ‘John’

She forgets the shape of a pentagon

She forgets the mirepoix in the bouillon

She’d forget her head if it weren’t screwed on

She forgets the location of a liaison

She forgets the capital of Gabon

In a relay, she forgets to pass the baton

She’d forget her head if it weren’t screwed on

She forgets there are trees in the Amazon

She forgets her trainers for a marathon

The whole thing’s a phenomenon – 

She’d forget her head if it weren’t screwed on!

Joshua Seigal

Shillbilly Elegy

I used to get work and followers too

I’d do a post and engagement grew

But I went my way, my departure brusque – 

See I had to leave, cos of Elon M*sk.

I used to have chats and healthy debate

It got me through Covid, I thought it was great

But the place became a right-wing husk

Yes I had to leave, cos of Elon M*sk.

I used to have fun expressing my views

I’d catch up with friends and I’d catch up on news

Now its owned by a toddler chewing a rusk – 

Oh I had to leave, cos of Elon M*sk.

Some of have jumped ship, and others cling on

It had its time, but I’m glad I’m gone

A cesspit now, from to dawn to dusk – 

I beg you to leave, cos of Elon M*sk.

Joshua Seigal 

Humans Are...

Amazingly

Incredible 

Artfully

Innovative

Astoundingly

Insightful

Awfully

Intricate

Ambitiously

Inventive

Absolutely

Ingenious

Actually

Intelligent

Joshua Seigal 

National Poetry Day - Embedding Poetry Across the Curriculum

 This Thursday is National Poetry Day, and this year's theme is Wonder.

I am proud to be an Official Ambassador for National Poetry Day and the Forward Prizes by Forward Arts Foundation, and here's what I've come to believe: poetry shouldn't live only in English lessons. It works best when it runs through the curriculum. Wonder isn't confined to one subject, and poems aren't either.

So, here are some ideas for how poetry might be embedded right across the curriculum:

Science: A poem asks children to look closely, and so does a scientist. Try a "list poem" of everything that happens when ice melts or a volcano erupts, or write from the point of view of a seed underground. Precise observation makes precise language, and the reverse is also true.

Maths: Pattern, rhythm and structure are both mathematical and poetic ideas. Count syllables, build shape poems, write riddles where the answer is a number. Children who "don't like maths" will often happily work out whether a line has too many beats.

Geography: Write a poem as a river travelling from source to sea, or as a city waking up. Poetry helps children understand a place from the inside, not just from a map or an atlas.

History: Give a voice to someone the textbook leaves out. A short monologue poem from a Victorian chimney sweep, a WW1 soldier or a Roman peasant builds empathy and understanding at once.

Art & Music: Poems and images belong together. Illustrate a poem, or write one in response to a painting. Perform poems with percussion and let children feel the rhythm physically.

PSHE: Poetry gives children words for feelings they can't easily name. A funny poem can open up a serious conversation. Laughter is a very good way in.

PE: Chant it, stamp it, move to it. Performance poetry is physical, and it's a gift for children who find it hard to sit still.

The common thread? Poetry teaches children to notice, to question, to play with language and to be amazed. In other words, it opens the path to 'Wonder'!

So this National Poetry Day, I'd challenge every teacher (not just the English or Literacy lead!) to bring a poem into a lesson where nobody expects it. Then see what happens.

How is your school celebrating? I'd love to hear.

Our Teacher

Our teacher is now a computer. 

The lesson goes straight to our brain,

transmitted from wire to neuron

like links in a silicon chain.

Our teacher is now an automaton. 

The homework is marked by AI.

In fact we use AI to do it – 

we’ve kissed human essence goodbye.

Our teacher is now in a tablet.

The tablet is now our new god.

They tell us that this is quite normal. 

We know in our bones that it’s odd.

Our teacher is now an illusion. 

We thought that we’d be overjoyed,

but somehow we find that we miss him – 

our teacher is now unemployed.

Joshua Seigal