It is a fact – a scientifically verified fact – that the easiest way to make any humdrum poem instantly windswept and interesting is to shift it into the third person singular, and make it about a Spaniard who is always referred to by their full name.
“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
You can write a poem about a ferret race among the slag heaps of Blaneau Ffestiniog, and as long as the winning ferret belongs to Juan Pablo Rodgrigo Arquilla, then a shortlist place for next Poet Laureate is guaranteed.
It would make a fantastic anthology. Ask 50 Northern Poets to write gritty Yorkshire verse about elaborately monikered Spaniards.
I fear it is too late, as the following reblog does the meme far too much funny justice for it to be repeated.