Zoe Cannell is the sixth Manx bard. Here she shares a poem and explains what led her to write it

I am regularly asked if poetry always needs to rhyme - a popular question, particularly from children.

The Third Manx Bard, John-Dog Collister, and I take a similar stance that poetry should rhyme and have metre, because I believe that’s where a lot of the skill and creativity lies. Performance poetry allows for slightly less rigidity, as its important elements are interpretation, emotion and delivery.

The nation’s most beloved and well-known poems, ’If’, ’I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud’, ’The Listeners’ and ’The Lady of Shallot’ do rhyme and have established metre, and there is no escaping that.

Of course, there is a place for non-rhyming poetry. However, for me personally, this is niche. When writing in this style, it is easy to swiftly freefall abstract ideas, often in a natural fashion.

For me, I consider my target audience. Who is going to read this poetry or hear it?

Will they enjoy it or appreciate it? Will it deliver a message or provoke reaction?

A vital element of writing poetry (or anything) is expressing oneself in a way one enjoys and feels comfortable with.

Conformity in art is never necessary, otherwise there would be no progress.

Hence why, this month, I’ve had a stab at a slightly different style from my usual, as I look at the general mess that Covid-19 has left behind.

I am passionate about the (poor) state of the Isle of Man and it could, one day, be enough for me to stand for the House of Keys.

I am hopeful that after this current phase ends, I will be able to spend my last few months in my Manx Bard role wisely and effectively.

I have had disappointments during my tenure with three lockdowns, but now have engagements in my diary, all of which I am greatly looking forward to.

I have a handful of other plans, which I must work to bring to fruition.

I have also spent time writing a few personal poems for people who I feel have served our island well, or who have helped and supported me.

It is always a joy and privilege to pay tribute to people I admire, and causes dear to my heart.

Locked down, locked away, locked within

a twelvemonth plight not invited in

Time as a treadmill; trekking odysseys

Sailing with stealth across stormy seas

Wearily wading in wellies, we quash quagmires of this quandary

Man meanders, mettles the mud,

heavy-heart, heavy-foot on Covid crud

Predicament duels with the Academic

Swordplay rules? Joust joust joust pandemic

Life on pause, don’t Rest in Greece,

life in the slow lane, speed decrease

As we clasp crustaceans; dare we peep?

Claws clamp again? This crab won’t sleep

Dirt by dogs; owners idle. Why? Unjustified

Feckless, reckless, sullying idyll countryside

Spoil it. Dog toilet. Shift it! Just lift it!

Dread of a tread, so down fix your eyes;

wish not for the squish of stinking surprise

Bag? Pocket, pack it. Carry it, and the worth

and responsibility; the honour respecting our Earth

Home-turf conditions - lifeless; pride-less

Grab a Saturn-sized hoover to vacuum the mess

Gungy, grungy and grimily grim

The fringe of this Isle needs a bold barber’s trim

Pavements: spattered and jagged and tattered

Roads: battered and ragged and shattered

A driving adventure for the soulless soulâ?¦

Streets are faded, jaded; took its toll

Trash around, waste-ground, fly-tipping

drops blots on nature’s page. So stop the dripping

As we weather together huge global mess,

we must razzle and rise to rebuild our success