The new Write Out Loud Poem of the Week is ‘Mature Student’, by JF Keane. John Keane, who organises Write Out Loud Stockport, is an admirer of WB Yeats, and describes ‘Mature Student’ as a “loose parody” of Yeats’ ‘Sailing to Byzantium’. His poem opens with the lines, “This is no place for old farts.” He likes to subvert and reinvigorate traditional poetic forms, he told Write Out Loud in our brief Q&A: "Systems of self-expression that have endured for centuries are worth preserving, almost by definition."

 

How long has poetry been an important part of your life and can you remember why it become so?

Poetry has had a tremendous impact on my autonomic nervous system for almost as long as I can remember. I read Tolkien’s ‘Errantry’ in a children’s anthology when I was about seven and recall being fascinated by its trisyllabic assonances and complex internal rhymes. Above all, I wanted to understand how he had achieved such powerful effects. From that time on, poetry has been a major part of my life.

 

What kind of poetry do you write?  What motivates you?

I like to subvert traditional forms like the sonnet or Spenserian stanza with modern words, concepts and sentiments. For example, ‘Mature Student’ is a loose parody of Yeats’ ‘Sailing to Byzantium’. I have also written an epic poem about football hooligans entitled ‘The Chaviad’ and a Petrarchan sonnet about Darwinism, amongst others. The aim is to amuse the reader while reinvigorating traditional poetic forms. Systems of self-expression that have endured for centuries are worth preserving, almost by definition.

 

If you could only have one poet's work to read, which one would you choose?

WB Yeats, for his polished style, technical versatility and conservative values. Also, his success as a Nobel prize winner sets all standards for poetic achievement.

 

Do you perform your work?

I read at Write Out Loud events but to be a good spoken word poet one really has to know the poems by heart. Unfortunately, mine tend to be too long and complex to remember – but I’m working on it.

 

You are cast away on a desert island.  What is your luxury?

It would have to be a Philip Larkin anthology. His gloomy realism would keep me sane. Sorry, saner.

 

 

MATURE STUDENT

by JF Keane

 

This is no place for old farts. The rowdy lifts,

The noisy red canteens with food that should be free -

The wide-eyed girls with cool kinetic limbs

And youths with scraggy beards - none foresee

With innocent gazes still unmarked by time

How quickly failed ambitions come to be.

Caught in the amber of youth, all neglect

The minds where distant decades intersect.

 

A middle-aged man is usually a sad bastard -

Unless, of course, he can raise his social value

To overcome his overflow of years. That is hard,

Given widespread ageism. What best to do?

Be honest! After all, he holds the killer card

And knows what is and what cannot, be true.

He is not distracted by the curve of lissom arses

Nor fine hair binding skulls delicate as vases.

 

Oh schizoid intellectuals with sketchy sex lives,

Dwelling forever on your loveless death –

Or at best cursing disenchanted wives

In quiet rooms with baited, bitter breath –

Give me the abstractions, concepts and beliefs

To draw my thinking from its tarnished sheath.

So moist etceteras, young eyes and blue-veined skin

Do not distract me from the thoughts I wonder in.

 

Quite purged of carnal whims beyond my span,

I will not harbour lusts I cannot slake

But fight the noble fight, keep to the plan,

Avoiding lissom flesh by shunning break

And reading every text-book that I can,

My cold ambition keeping me awake;

And emerge from all these trials with such a pass

I am beyond dispute the truly middle class.