Tag Archives: verse

Is There Any Money In Poetry?

I have been asked by a number of people (including my mum!) whether I make any money from my writing. Yesterday evening, whilst out for a drink with friends, I had the same question addressed to me and answered (so far as my memory serves), in the following manner:

“Very few writers make much money, and its particularly difficult for poets to derive an income from their poetry, as that particular art form is rather a niche market.

Whilst I self-publish on Amazon (which has no costs associated with it), I do pay an editor/proof reader to check for typographical and other errors. Also, whilst there is no obligation on me to purchase author copies, I always do buy paperbacks of my books (albeit at an author discount) to distribute to family, close friends, my local library etc.

I could more easily recoup the cost of the above where it not for the fact that I have been in the habit of giving away copies to strangers, in future I shall become a veritable Scrooge in such matters. Actually, I think that this is unlikely, (me becoming a Scrooge I mean!).

Whilst poets can cover their costs, and even turn a profit, it is extremely difficult for them to do so”.

In light of my conversation with friends yesterday evening, I did a little digging with the help of Mr Google and came across this article, https://www.shmoop.com/careers/poet/salary.html, which does, in essence chime with what I told my 2 friends last night.

I would, as ever be interested in receiving comments from my readers.

Kevin

My poem ‘The Poet on The Hill’ is on ‘Place of Poetry’.

I have uploaded my poem ‘The Poet On The Hill’ to ‘Places of Poetry.

To view my poem please click here.

To read other people’s poems, or to upload your own please click here.

 

 

Women’s Poetry Prize

The Mslexia and PBS Women’s Poetry and Pamphlet Competitions are back! Entries are now open until the 16th September 2019, 5pm GMT.
To read more please follow this link, https://www.poetrybooks.co.uk/pages/mslexia-pbs-womens-poetry-prize

Abandoned Stilletos

I remember abandoned stilettos,
Left, bereft under my bed.
The ghettos
Are cruel it is said,
But you
Knew nothing of them,
(Though much of men
And their desire
To play with fire).

What drew
We 2
Diverse birds of a feather
Together?
Dare I say
That you where
A professional and I an amateur,
Or was it the other way?
I can not say.

Dog Hair

Your black
Soft hair in my hand.
You lack
The capacity to understand
As you lie in the sun
After your run,
That I shall find dog hair
When you are no longer there,
For hairs to carpets stick
And tears will, one day, prick
The eyes of he
Who loves thee.

(Note: my dog, Trigger is healthy and happy. But, on picking up some of his hair from my living room carpet, I was reminded of his mortality, and indeed that of all flesh).