What’s it like being a poet?
That’s probably the question I get asked most when visiting schools. As well as the old favourites :
Are you famous?
Are you rich?
Have you met JK Rowling?
No, no and no – if you’re interested
I’ve been a poet since I was 10 – obviously, not as a job – but poetry and words have always been there. From reading and writing stories and poems at school to teenage attempts at song-writing, then to discovering the goalposts that were Roger McGough and John Cooper Clarke. I always think that Roger was the first poet to make me want to write poems and John, the first to make me want to perform poems.
After becoming a teacher, I decided to try being a poet as a job. That was in 1989. Since then, I’ve been a poet visiting schools and publishing books. It feels like yesterday – but also feels like forever. I’ve got to the stage where I visit schools and teachers will greet me with “It’s great that you could come – you came to my last school”. I reply with “Where did you teach?” and they will say “No, I was a child …”
I love visiting schools and performing. That’s where poems really come alive. I can sit at home and think I’ve written a great poem but I never really know until I perform it. I might think it’s the funniest poem ever but if they don’t laugh then it isn’t! Simple. Also, if the audience don’t know when to join in or the rhythms don’t work then it’s a practical problem that needs solving. Editing through performance. That’s where poems really grow. They are living, breathing and need that environment to blossom – and they do just that. Sometimes, after years of performing a piece, something happens that extends the poem or brings it to life in a different way. Always exciting.
In March 2020 – that all stopped. With lockdown. Suddenly I couldn’t go anywhere – no-one could. So, I started to write a poem every day as a lockdown diary. I shared these online and an online community began – a virtual audience. I still do this to this day and haven’t missed a day and have now written nearly 1,300 poems since then. Some a diary, some a response to news, some jokes and puns … I love the discipline of doing this. Sometimes less so, when I have a busy performing schedule. But, having got this far, I don’t want to stop! On those days it’s usually a haiku …
I’ve recently been looking through these poems and have been pleasantly surprised as to the quality of them. Not many have been throwaway – some have. But that’s the nature of this approach and I like the selfie/instant nature of the poems. There is a charm to them.
The first poem I remember liking was Alfred Noyes’ “Daddy Fell Into The Pond” from a primary school library book. I recently visited my old primary school – Little Hoole County Primary School – and met my teacher, Mrs Burton (she had retired but her grandchildren went to the school). We keep in regular contact now – which is lovely – and I know that she regularly responds to my online poems. I’m nearly 63 and still getting marks from my teacher! She also sent me a poem I wrote when I was in her class – aged 10. I have no recollection of writing a poem about a windmill or even lessons about them …
The other question kids always ask is “What’s the first poem you ever wrote?”
I can now answer that truthfully – so here it is, as it was written in 1970/ 971 – unchanged.
Now, onto the next one …
Windmills
One day I saw a windmill there
In a field of tulips fair
The tulips they belong to farms
And the windmills all have swinging arms
In a field so bright and gay
One windmill seemed to say
“How I wish the wind would stop
My sails are spinning like a top”
The sails are spinning in the breeze
The miller grinds the corn with ease
Sometimes fast, sometimes slow
That’s the way the windmills go
The sails go merrily whirling round
Sometimes nearly touching the ground
All of them belong to farms
Those windmills with their swinging arms
Paul Cookson
Paul Cookson has worked as a poet for 35 years, visited thousands of schools and sold over a million books, including The Works, the teachers’ poetry Bible. He is Poet In Residence for The National Football Museum and was commissioned by Everton Football Club to write a poem called “Home”. Even at his advanced age he still visits schools with his bag of poems and trusted ukulele to guarantee fun and laughter for all ages.
Children's Poetry Summit 
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