What Is This, 1983? (Poetry Form 61: Cyhydedd Hir)

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May 13, 2012 by Sez

This really happened. Yesterday. In an arty pub in Sheffield. Not in the mid eighties in a village pub like you’d think.
Thanks to Kate Garret for the funky Welsh form, and thanks to Gav Roberts for gallantly swapping drinks with me and drinking my “lady’s pint” even though we both wanted the cool big tankards which, by the way, weren’t that heavy.
Finally, apologies to the Welsh for my butchering of this usually lovely poetry form.

Poetry meeting:
“Business” was fleeting.
Drinking and eating
Weren’t very far.
Gav and I hankered
For beer in tankards
To get us wankered.
Went to the bar.

Now this is my peeve
Did my eyes deceive?
I couldn’t believe
What came to pass.
The barmaid came near
“Is that for you, dear?”
She said, with a sneer
“Have a ladies’ glass”

She poured Gav his drink
I could only blink
She said “I don’t think
That you realise.
“These things weigh a ton
You will have no fun”
I saw what she’d done
And rolled my eyes.

A tall, slender vase
Patterned with stars
What a bloody farce
I’ve not made this up.
Girls “can’t lift a stein”
If you go there to dine
Do they serve white wine
In sippy-cups?

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