31st August 2018

Thrilled to have received my very first writing accolade with my poem 'When Jesters wear the Crowns' taking out a 'highly commended' award at the Dan Davin Literary Awards. Here's what  I wrote:

When jesters wear the crowns


Dismount your literary high horse, dismiss the belletrist school of thought.

Time is ripe for sober intercourse but not the hanky-panky sort.

You scoff at your fellow authors who write a story of romance,

A bit different from your treatise but the tango is still a dance.

The genre fiction you abhor, the depth of literature it lacks,

“Terrible writing,” you might say, but let’s look at actual facts.

While your work may be esteemed among your peers of classic tomes,

Is it wilting in a library instead of worldwide readers’ homes?

Will your name be just a footnote in some critique of writing history?

“Didn’t they write such and such?” but your work remains a mystery.

At Heaven’s table of great writers such as Dickens, Poe and Twain

There’s a setting for the authors of the books which you disdain,

And if their sales reflect the love while your book still gathers dust.

O Author, your dictum should always be “In the reader we hope and trust.”

All that praise from the elites and their educated views

Mean little to the readers and the stories which they choose.

If you’re writing to please the critics with your metaphors so grand

And your eloquently written phrases and words no one understands,

You’ve forgotten what a story is, that first children’s book you read

Which inspired your love of stories as you snuggled in your bed.

No deeper meaning or hyperbole, no societal commentary,

Just simply told narrations making characters legendary.

“I’ve matured,” you might argue, “And my writing must be deep.”

But where does its value lie if it’s putting me to sleep?

Forgive me, literary writer, I mean no harm or disrespect,

I wish simply to remind you, pride oft makes us forget.

Writers bare their hearts and souls when thoughts are put to page,

Be it literary or whimsical, our stories are still upon a stage.

Critique is hard enough without authors being cruel,

Or lauding their credentials from some famous writing school.

One’s trash is another’s treasure and those condescending frowns

Are just silly in a world where jesters often wear the crowns.

There’s a need for every genre and the tales they impart

And the value of a story lies within the reader’s heart.

So stop looking down your noses and applaud your fellow scribe

And we’ll all feel that much better without some petty diatribe.