This poem by Society member Steve Walter was selected for Folio #74, published in 2020
Crime
My Dad was a policeman.
My Dad was a poet.
My Dad was a policeman-poet.
The set homework that night
was to write my first poem that rhymed.
Dad taught me rhythm, taught me rhyme.
He came up with murder:
He banged her head
Against the wall
And then stood back
To watch her fall.
Imagine my relief
when I learnt that poems
don’t have to rhyme at all.
The Kent & Sussex Poetry Society 