Our postman is a poet
Today, I found that out.
No, it’s not that unusual -
There’s loads of us about.
And he’s not any old poet -
He’s a hippie poet for sure
I found that out as well today.
I’m going to tell you more…
He knocked to give me the junk mail
And pass the time of day.
He talked about the postal strike
And warned of the delay.
Began apologetically
Explained about their action -
A great big smile lit up his face
When he saw my reaction……
I told him I’m a leftie poet
And if there’s one thing I like
It’s people fighting for their rights
And going out on strike!
I gave him solidarity
A thumbs-up and a cheer.
‘You might get moaners down the road
But you’ve a comrade here!’
He said he was a poet too
And knew what words were worth.
Said he believed in unity
Of everything on the earth
Of humans, animals, plants and trees.
They’re all our kith and kin.
And though we’re different on the out,
We’re all the same within.
He said he’d studied allegory
And sought a higher plane
He didn’t like the obvious,
The clichéd and mundane
The happy welcome in his eyes
Became a wistful stare
He carried on quite dreamily
As if I wasn’t there….
I said, ‘My poems..erm…..aren’t like that!’
I thought: ‘HIPPY ALERT!’
An inner voice said ‘Shut up, John -
Or feelings will get hurt…..’
I think our postie writes the kind
Of poems I may not like..
But he seems like a lovely bloke –
And I hope they win the strike!
