TBC

Poet Brian Bilston on how poetry is everywhere, followed by our suggestions of places to find it, whether you love dogs, sci-fi or true crime.

If you haven't picked up a book for a while or feel like you don't have the time or brain space for a 300-page novel,

or fancy short shot of the musical power of language

Brian Bilston is one of Britain's funniest and best-loved poets

If you haven't picked up a book for a while, don't have time for

Poetry is an excellent gateway into reading because it is highly accessible, often short, and focuses on the emotional and musical power of language rather than demanding long-term commitment to complex, plot-driven narratives. It serves as a low-stakes, high-impact tool for building fluency, vocabulary, and confidence, particularly for reluctant readers.

Poetry can also be a more accessible route into reading for reluctant readers who feel over-faced by a novel or chapter book, as well as a mechanism for children and young people to share their voice by creating their own poetry when they might otherwise feel silenced.

Brian Bilston is one of Britain's funniest and best-loved poets

and then mention in a longer introduction or at the end of the piece that it's an edited extract from the book

In terms of positioning you could say it's promoting his work, and poetry more generally, to tie in with the NYR, highlighting how poetry is a great way into reading, whatever your age

Poetry is everywhere. It pops up on our social media feeds and television screens. You hear it on the radio. You skim past it in magazines and weekend newspapers. Take a trip to the public convenience at a railway station and you’ll find poetry written on the back of your toilet door, often accompanied by a jaunty illustration. Like I say, it’s everywhere.

Poetry can be about anything. Poetry can be about things familiar to us. Poetry can be about familiar things juxtaposed in an unusual way. Poetry can surprise us. Poetry can make us laugh. Poetry can make us think. Poetry can be weird. Poetry can be mysterious. Poetry can be where our imagination takes us. Sometimes poetry can simply be the joy of the line or the poem itself. It catches us unprepared.

A poem can lift us up when we most need it; provide comfort when life is at its hardest; make us laugh or cry; shine a light on inequality or injustice; reassure us that what we are experiencing is not always a situation uniquely ours; delight us for no other reason than itself; or inspire us to heights we might never have thought possible.

We have a tendency to put poetry on a pedestal, to see it as something ‘other’: a nobler, ‘higher’ occupation removed from the mundanity of everyday life. But it doesn’t need to be so: poetry doesn’t have to be an either/or, it can be incorporated into one’s daily existence.

Read on for a poem taken from Brian's latest book, How to Lay an Egg with a Horse Inside, which perfectly demonstrates the poetry of our everyday lives, followed by a selection of poetry collections which offer different ways into poetry, whatever form your daily existence takes.

Customer Feedback

So that’s all set to end on the twenty-third, you say?
That’s great – thank you! But before you go,
would you be able to stay on the line for a minute or two
and answer a few simple questions
about my performance as a customer today?

Terrific. Okay, when you asked me
those security questions at the beginning of the call
and I misspelt my mother’s maiden name
and then told you my first dog was called Groucho Barks,
did you judge me at all?

On a scale of 1–5, how angry would you say I became
when you informed me that you had no record
of my eight previous phone calls concerning this matter,
where 1 represents passive-aggressive sullenness,
and 5 is noisy, incoherent rage?

And how would you rate the rather clever joke I made
involving the phrase ‘customer hotline’?
Yes, that’s right, the joke. You don’t remember it?
We were talking about the weather. No, no,
I won’t repeat it – it’s not going to work now.

When you put me on hold for the third time,
I began to bang my head against my desk
along to the Spring concerto of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.
How helpful was that metronomic thudding?
You weren’t aware of it. What about all the yelling?

After you told me I needed to stop swearing
or you would have to terminate the call,
how quickly do you think I calmed down?
How well would you say I responded
to the breathing exercises you suggested I try?

Finally, is there anything else you can help me with today?
The laundry? The washing up? The crossword?
No, that’s okay, I thought not. Unrealistic, I know.
Anyway, thanks for being contacted by me today –
your feedback may be used for self-loathing purposes.