•April 30, 2013 • Leave a Comment
OH MY GOD IT’S FINISHED.
Yes, here is my last poem for NaPoWriMo, and I’m still alive.
I saw a prompt some time ago about writing a poem giving thanks to a poet … I do not know where I saw that prompt. Anyway, I’m sort of thanking my tutors at university with this (writers, poets), but I’ve also ended up recognising the contribution my singing teacher from fifteen years ago made to my artistic life.
We are always learning. Too often we realise we learned something fifteen years after the fact.
(Also this poem is not to be taken as a good example that I suddenly know what I’m doing when it comes to writing. For one thing, I wrote it in 20 minutes. Until this month I’d never written anything in 20 minutes. And for another thing, I still have a lot to learn. Ask me again in another fifteen years.)
At eighteen I learned
to sing from my diaphragm,
how to hold and bend
the notes, how to breathe.
She told me talent did not
make you an artist.
She told me art was found
in what you could control.
I used to write poems
that didn’t make sense.
The words danced
but fell flat after one
pirouette, stumbled away
through the space on the page
and dragged themselves off stage,
saying “that’ll do”.
Eventually I began to learn
how to keep a poem
on its feet until the end
of the dance. I have to sing
to them: deep breaths, bend
the space around the words just right
so they dance in lines, smiling,
curtseying when the curtain falls.
•April 23, 2013 • Leave a Comment
So I’m playing catch-up today – Sunday, Monday and Tuesday’s poems all in one day! But not all in one post.
This was a NaPoWriMo prompt earlier this month, I think, but I’ve used it by accident – a poem based on a lie. On Sunday, the Pete took us out for dinner at a pub, and during conversation I said someone kicked squirrels. I’d had a few glasses of wine. The adults present knew I was messing about, and I thought my sons did as well, but the kids asked me to clarify the next day.
So to clarify: I don’t know anyone who kicks squirrels, and I never have. (No squirrels were harmed in the writing of this piece.)
Oh yes, he’s awful. Really terrible.
Why? Because he kicks squirrels!
I’ve seen him do it. They call him
“the squirrel kicker”, and sometimes
if there are no squirrels, he spits
balls of paper at toddlers, through
a straw, when their mums aren’t looking,
so they scrunch up their faces and cry.
At other times he sticks his tongue
out at crows and magpies.
HE DOESN’T EVEN CARE IF IT’S UNLUCKY!
He’s that horrible.
So, I stay away from him!
But yes, what was the question?
Would I like another glass of wine?
•April 19, 2013 • Leave a Comment
Well. I’ve used the Day 16 NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 19 (this is approximately how long it takes me to see the prompts: three days), and I can safely say the following is NOT much of a poem …
It was, however, an interesting exercise in stretching my vocabulary, and oddly enough, will definitely be one or more real poems one day. Some amazing images came to mind writing this.
I used this poem by Marijana Radmilovic as a guide, and allowed my right brain to “translate” the shapes of the Croatian words into similar shaped English ones.
Good luck reading this one, ladies and gents …
Necklace-like opportunity, poverty boils you,
skidding body to body, the malachite or topaz agenda.
Anime koi spare others from the video,
the necromancers secrete spells viscerally,
the cream of the government – same as sorbet.
She smokes crayfish at a nice price
now anime koi ostracise naked cement dubstep
with useless gloves, tattered cement in Gucci;
pigeons nap in a nest.
A City cement impostor procures sorbet
rejected by tureens of rice, tortillas -
inane is the progressive smog of amnesia.
The ultimate zealot tamed a nasty ostentatious alcoholic,
seated on a lily-pad the immovable magnitude of paprika, scenes and radicals.
You love me with tentacles moving the same as static innovation.
My zazen nemesis with jedi drugs vibrates vice.
•April 18, 2013 • Leave a Comment
NaPoWriMo and I aren’t in sync at all this week. The kids are back in school, and I’ve gone back to uni. So here are some haiku. Again. (I kind of knew this would happen several times this month.)
She scratches behind
Her ear – little zen cat’s back.
Balance then and now.
Distant traffic sings,
Trees rumble with percussion:
Music before light.
•March 27, 2013 • Leave a Comment
Hello poetry people!
Just leaving a first post here so the blog doesn’t look naked over the next few days. I mean, there’s good naked, and there’s “what is this empty blog doing here?” naked.
So: see you again soon on 1 April for the beginning of this year’s NaPoWriMo. (And I hope to meet more participants along the way!)