The Poet Gets A Job

The Poet lived in a small room on the edge of nowhere .
That’s where he stitched it all together . The fabric of his material was rich and rare a little like a colourful quilt . It did come at a cost .

There’s a thin edge between survival and existence called the breadline .
The poet was penniless and poor and the poet needed to get himself above the breadline . Bills and debts were coming in and he made the decision to find a job and get some money back into the bank .

After some very persuasive talking he landed a job in a second hand car dealers yard . Even though he had never sold a car before he was confident he had what it takes .

He was starting at seven thirty in the morning so he cautiously went to bed early . It was twilight and shadows drifted across the sky .
He hung up the phone and tried to turn off the inspiration that often called him up without any warning . He knew he had to get some sleep but the poet never sleeps . During the night he awoke twice with new ideas running through his head .

Morning arrived like a bus with no brakes and stopped the alarm clock that sat by his bed . He wearily got out of bed and went into the kitchen .
Breakfast would have been nice but he opened an empty cereal box and instead left for the train with an empty stomach .

On his arrival the manager of the yard told him he had to go out for a few hours and left . The Poet went and sat at his desk until the first prospective customer called in which was like about right away as soon as he had sat down .
The customer was interested in a van that had twelve thousand dollars on it . The Poet got the keys from the office and started up the engine fir the customer . The Poet knew a little about car mechanics and heard a suspious knocking in the engine . He advised the customer there may be a problem with the van and to reconsider buying it . The customer was so impressed by the honesty that he went over to the front of the yard and checked out a family wagon that was twice as much as the van . After starting the engine the customer asked if he could have a test .

About an hour later the customer returned to the car yard and handed over twenty four thousand dollars cash for the wagon and thanked the poet who was almost in shock at his first sale .
Lunch timer came and her had sold another car and another was in the process of getting finance through .

The poet rang the manager to inform him about the sales . The manager said he was not going to return to the yard until later in the week . Then he said to put all the money into a sock at the end of the day and bring it home .
When the day was done the poet locked up the car yard and took the train back to his little room on the edge of nowhere .

He had borrowed a few dollars from petty cash and grabbed some dinner .
After he had eaten he felt inspired and began to write . He continued composing for hours before the drape of night covered the world outside .

The next day was quiet at the car yard and the poet sat at the managers desk with a note pad . He put down some thoughts on paper and never saw the manager return . The manager stood outside his office door and watched him scribble down things . He was curious at what the poet was doing and asked if he could see what he wrote .
The poet showed him the notepad and to his surprise was given great encouragement by the manager of the car yard who said ,
“You should give your writing more time . This is good .“

“Oh sure I’d love top but I have bills to pay and cupboards to fill . “
Said the Poet .

The manager of the yard replied ,
“All artists have to suffer for their work . “

“So are you telling me you aren’t happy with my abilities here at the yard ?”
The Poet asked .

“No not at all . As a matter of fact that’s not what’ behind my advice . I think you’re a good poet and you are wasting your time selling cars.“

That evening when the poet finished work he called in to a little church and said a few prayers for guidance . He sat there for about a half hour when a nun approached him and invited him into the church for a cup of tea .
The church community was having a get together in the community hall .
An Irish nun who was talking with some of the community came and said hello to the poet . Her name was Sister Honora .

She soon discovered he was a poet and he told her about what his employer had advised him top do .
She listened to him and told him that her time teaching poetry and English grammar had finished .

“When I was a writer” , she said
“I always asked other people to read my work . You should maybe do the same and get some opinions about what you’re doing as a writer . “

The poet felt honoured that somebody was interested in his poetry and so the next day he brought his employer and the Irish nun a number of his poems .
The Irish nun was delighted to have been chosen to read some of his work .
His employer also had a quick browse through the material and advised him to show his poetry around .
His employer handed him a few some contact phone numbers iof people he knew who worked on community radio stations .
That was the first step towards the poet having his poetry broadcast live on air . The next few months were busy for the poet with holding down his job in the card yard and reading his poetry on community radio .
The process was fruitful as members of the poets union contacted him and invited him to become a writers member and then read at some functions in town .
With a little more encouragement the poet contacted various magazines and newspapers and soon his poetry began to appear in print in a number of periodicals .

He now had a long list of people who appreciated his work .

He frequented cafes at night and other places where poets could read their work . He became a recognised poet in his own right .
Reading his poetry had now become regular weekly thing
He had a large number of venues in town that kept him busy as a
performing poet .
He was so happy to hear applause for his work .
The audience were a mixed assortment of people from academics and radio presenters , to the tourists and journalists .
Now his face was known ,
He was relaxed with his new lifestyle and found it easy to talk to most people in the audience .

He had earned enough money in the car yard now to return to his little den just to concentrate on writing again .

He soon found that his creative juices began to flow .
He had so much to write about and now he was able to give it his full time effort .
His new work was exciting and expressive .
He had found a world outside that enjoyed what he was doing .

The End

By Paul McCann