Poet files #3

Secret poet in the corridors of power?

The dust is settling now and it’s all about money. As Robert Graves said, “there’s no poetry in  money. But then there’s no money in poetry either.” So somehow we have already begun to forget the secret poetry of the man who made the pact with the Tories (as he is now known), Nick Clegg.

He reveres Samuel Beckett. Now, some might think this was a disturbing tendency for a man who is supposed to be forthright, dynamic and in charge. But maybe not. Time will tell. Maybe as we go on his speeches will get slower and slower, the pauses longer and longer… But then he also says Yeats is his favourite poet. So maybe it  is the speeches themselves that will get longer and longer…

Clegg famously wrote a poem for his school magazine – a tragic love poem, of which the second stanza goes:

But now. Yes, I can see you now,
Too dumb, squatted in my eyes,
Poisoned like a dying pearl,
A killer’s vengeance – twisted.

I’m not going to say anything about aademic standards. Or maybe talent really is innate. Those of you who saw the “other George Best’s” poem last week will recognise that Westminster school, and an extra five years, could have done more for Nick.

But let’s not knock it! Fingers crossed for culture funding, then.

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