I had been struggling last week with a poem. I know, other people have bigger problems but this poem in particular wouldn’t leave me alone. It is a solitary life trying to write poetry, no one there to mop your fevered brow when you tinker with feminine endings, nothing to help when your acatalectic  runs out of steam  or your alliterations get into a twist.

Nothing that is until I visited a little known or visited part of Hove in Sussex. Here, to my amazement I discovered a poetic Nirvana. Where else in the World could you find a poet’s convenience store that even sells booze? And if you are really stuck for a dithyramb, there’s the Poets Corner Clinic. I didn’t see many fellow poets but maybe you have to disguise your identity when going to such places.

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