New Year Poem by Barry Tebb would touch your heart for its motivational spirit, simple language and the very sweet and effortless rhyming that is sure to tug the heart strings of readers of all age and cross section.

The 123NewYear team thinks this to be an apt one to read at the onset of a New Year because of the simple reason that the poem begins with a strong nudge to look beyond what is negative and try to change things for the positive.

The poet here sets an example saying that he has never found it worthwhile to keep harping on something not so good that happened in the past, but just consider it to be a learning experience and perhaps just a cause for temporary irritation, and then simply move on by learning from the mistakes of the past and converting them into sources of inspiration that nudges you to reach for what is best, for each New Year is like “a gift to you” that gives you the opportunity to start afresh.

Rejection doesn’t lead me to dejectionBut to inspiration via irritation

Or at least to a bit of naughty new year wit-

Oh Isn’t it a shame my poetry’s not tame

Like Rupert’s or Jay’s – I never could

Get into their STRIDE just to much pride

To lick the arses of the poetry-of-earthers

Or the sad lady who runs KATABASIS from the back

Of a bike, gets shouted at by rude parkies

And writing huffy poems to prove it…

Oh to be acceptable and


Like Lavinia or Jo

With double spreads

And a glossy colour photo

Instead I’m stuck in a bus queue at Morden

London’s meridian point of zero imagination

Actually it’s a bit like ACUMEN with the Oxleys

Boasting about their 150,000 annual submissions-

If what they print’s the best God help the rest…)

At least my Christmas post had – instead of a card

From Jeremy Reed – his ELEGY FOR DAVID GASCOYNE –

The best poem I’ve had by post in forty years

And Jeremy’s best to date in my estimate –

The English APOLLINAIRE – your ZONE, your SONG

OF THE BADLY LOVED – sitting in a cafe in South End Green

I send you this poem, Jeremy, sight unseen,

A new year’s gift to you, pushing through

To star galaxies still unmapped and to you, BW,

Sonneteer of silence, huddled in the fourth month

Of your outdoor vigil, measuring in blood, tears and rain

Your syllable count in hour-glass of pain.

– By Barry Tebb

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