Poems for your criticism please

[I love Fanta]

Hi. A couple of poems that I wrote this month, as this seems to be the place to post for literary criticism, I'd be glad to hear your views!

Thanks
Mike

Which side of my sofa shall I sit on tonight?

My new sofa (well, sofa-bed in fact) has space for two,
But most nights I have supply only of one
(And occasionally a laptop computer or book).
And the question is always pressing, stressing:
To make sure each side has equal attention
Springs the same strain, cushions equal torsion,
To ensure the whole thing stays stable,
Which side of my sofa shall I sit on tonight?

I could just admire the sofa from afar
It wasn’t a cheap affair, but built from real class,
Worth introducing with pride to new visitors and even
Sometimes demonstrating the mechanism for getting the bed out.
But the armchair I’d use is old and unsupportive
And that misses the point, dodges the question
Of fundamental furniture care and attention:
Which side of my sofa shall I sit on tonight?

My social life is ailing amidst this concern:
Friends tell me the topic is uninteresting
And either a psychoanalyst or a carpenter would help.
But arranging all that would be exhausting
When timewasting should be fun - or self-absorbing.
Theatre, cinema, lectures, debates, the pub quiz
All losers compared to asking self that great question:
Which side of my sofa shall I sit on tonight?



The problem of the Middle Class Memoir

My town was quite a wealthy one
And my parents were relatively affluent
And married throughout and we had a cat
And the cat buried its excrement safely
Until it got old.

My school was just down the road.
We wore a black school uniform, which I didn’t object to,
And I wasn’t bullied, except for the standard slanging between groups
Of rich grammar school boys with high-range yet affordable haircuts.

I regularly made trips to the postbox, to get some exercise of a morning,
And when I was twelve my Mum
Let me go alone by public transport to neighbouring towns.

There were no real disasters in Marlow,
Although once a decomposing corpse floated downstream
Past the posh enclosures at the town’s regatta,
But he had died a natural death.

I did reasonably well in A-levels,
Although not outstandingly so,
And went to university and got a 2:1,
Like most of the others on my course.

And after a short period of unemployment,
I got a job and moved to Birmingham
And now live in Aston, in a flat.
Yesterday, my gas bill arrived.



Single-Occupancy Flat

There’s a party every night where I live
And all I have to do is serve the cakes
My furniture are the best of guests. After all,
Polish is so much nicer than Champagne

The table always has a lively debate
Over music with the house plant, which
Is a techno dance fan, while the table prefers
Indie-rock and also has an iPod.

The chairs stay out of it as they know
The argument has all gone before
Entrenched opinions they’d rather share
With the curtains over current affairs.

They always debate identity cards
It’s all they’ll discuss while I serve canapes
As the host it’s my role to steer well clear
And just flirt in the kitchen with my new kettle

The armchair some say looks lonely and jaded
But really its just relaxed
Observing the scene, they’ll be a remark
On how things were different back in the day

He’s got a crush on the Lloyd-loom chair
They frequently discuss those olden days
But she’s grasped the here-now tight
And insists on her turn at karaoke.

What really lies below in the carpet’s mind?
A trodden-on proletarian or an aspirant social climber?
The servant at the gate dreaming of being
On the floor at some Caribbean airport lounge.

While the lampshade sits content, already in the sun
Choosing who to illuminate and who to ignore
By design she decides a pecking order
By fault of position or just plain aesthetic, no one escapes.

[katyseagull]

Excellent. I would like to read more of your work. You have a unique and humorous style.


[ QUOTE ]
The armchair some say looks lonely and jaded
But really its just relaxed
Observing the scene, they’ll be a remark
On how things were different back in the day

He’s got a crush on the Lloyd-loom chair
They frequently discuss those olden days
But she’s grasped the here-now tight
And insists on her turn at karaoke.


[/ QUOTE ]


lol, i love it.

Can't decide which one I like best, Single Occupancy Flat or Which Side of My Sofa. I think it's Which Side of My Sofa for me.

[henrikrh]

"supply only of one"

might wanna write "supply of only one" seems to flow better, no?

[Duke]

And here I was expecting anapestic tetrameter.