4 am

You see its nearing 4am Melbourne time,

And I’m all fired up because of the writing.

I could be sleeping but no I am at this stupid

Computer trying to make sense of things.

The first time I read my poetry I was at a pub,

It is an Irish pub called the Dan O’Connell,

The locals call it the ‘Dan’.

In the seventies it was a big folk hangout,

Hippies smoking joints, listening to rebel

Rousing music of the Bushwhackers

Who sang about the ‘Republic’ and outlaws.

Now it is the home of poetry in my town, and

When I first read there I went with a friend.

He was an old wharfie, and tough as nails,

I thought maybe I needed protection.

The beer was swimming, and the poets

Were laughing, hissing, cajoling, agitating,

Swearing, and singing, it was the stuff of life,

I got up and did my thing-two poems.

The crowd roared and I felt like I was a

Spartan on the fields of Thermopylae.

It was heady stuff, and it was then I knew

I was born to be a poet.

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