It’s Day Two of my countdown to National Poetry Day. Yesterday I shared The Sea’s Hands, by George Szirtes. Today we will see a complete change of style.

I’ve been a huge admirer of Edward Lear for a long time. From his limericks to The Owl and the Pussycat, his work is as part of everyday life as any poet could hope for. He’s managed to slip into the language and stay there.

This poem is one I can’t remember starting to like. It’s been in my head for as long as I care to remember. I don’t think I’d choose it if I was coming to it fresh – but that’s the joy of childhood, it is the most reliable source for who we really are.

I do know, however, that I was drawn to it because its the oddness. I think that in many ways this poem put its hand on my back and pushed me towards Mervyn Peake. It’s called The Pobble Who Has No Toes and was written by Edward Lear.