He reckons I’m obsessed
Obsessed he says
Brown caffeinated liquids
Are my obsession
Warm or cold
Fizzy or flat
As long as it has caffeine
It has the knack
For thick frothy coffee
You have to eat with a spoon
Ice filled cola
Or mocha with cream
But I am not obsessed
Oh no not me
I can go for an hour
Any you see
Just don’t tell him
I will beg and plead
If I am without for
More than three
With out caffeine
And I’ll need
Via intravenous drip
Or a take away
Beaker to sip.
He reckons I’m obsessed
Trying to capture the things within
Writers shiver, Artists paint, sculptures try
But try in vain
Always nothing but a ghost or shade
Like the mathimatical landscape
Reduced to notation
Symbols used to show the world
Those things in the void
Behind our eyes
It’s festival rain again! AGAIN!
Packing the tent is such a pain
When you are canvas bound
Listening to it sheeting down
Watching the little bubbles form
Before the riverlets of the storm
A constellation of crystal blooms
As we hide in this tents one room
But this structure must come down
Before the funky beats are found
The Music thumps and does pound
Dancers dance twirling round
Mud bath laughs at the main stage
No one here acts their age
How delicious and sublime
Is the ridiculous at festival time?
For age here counts not at all
Everyone will eventually act the fool
Skipping to natures beat
Dancers leaving behind wet seats
Beat out tempo with squelching feet
Eating churros salt and sweet
Listening to the sage and wise
Laughing loud untill you cry
Sighing as it’s time to go
Watching storm light begin to grow
Golden clouds make banners glow
And there the arc of the rain bow
Just a reminder to other poets that there is lots of helpful stuff over on the NaPoWriMo site.
I personally am gearing up by writing from images in an old fashion mag I’ve ended up with – some of the prompts want to be short stories though!
Having already done two poetry writing drives this year I am preparing myself for yet another poem a day challenge called National Poetry Writing Month – pretty much if there is a challenge I will take part in it
I am going for the spending 30 hrs on poetry this month rather than 30 poems a day.
As I’ve done this year with Month of Poetry and World Poetry Writing Month, I will aim to write 100 drafts or skeletons of poems this month and I have a lot of drafts unsurprisingly to edit and type up.
I would also like to do some work on The Little Book of Easter Poetry and get it moving forward.
And if there is anytime left then I would like to work on my collection The Political Converse but that is a lot to fit in
It starts tomorrow and I am also doing work on my comic book stuff this month so we shall see
And last but not least my Muse Monsters are appearing as a work shop at The Cheltenham Poetry Festival
I have created a board on Pinterest with images and pictures that I think would be good jumping off points for poems – it is here.
Last night I went to Buzz Words – a local poetry night including guest poet, workshop and open mic readings. I realised that I had not been for a long time Due to college and health and busy-ness but Bobby Parker was reading and I really like his stuff which I think I initially discovered during the Cheltenham Poetry Festival. Apart from wanting to hear Bobby read, and try out a new poem myself – I like attending workshops as I nearly always end up with a usable poem from them.
The same happened this time. I’ve had a couple of ideas knocking about in my head for a while, ideas that I thought should be in poems but I wasn’t quiet sure how and so when the workshop started I had material that just sort of slotted together with the brief. Stuff I would have tried to make 3 poems out of clicked nicely into place in one poem.
So basically what I am saying is – if you are stuck with writing go to a workshop. In fact sometimes I find just going to poetry readings work, as if hearing other poets work unlocks something – it becomes safe to write as you are not the only one? Or something like that!
It is that time of year again – I will be attempting to not only write a poem a day through out February but to spend an hour each day working on poetry stuff. I have book cases full of note books with stuff to type up, only a fraction of it is poetry but that is still a lot poems just sitting there, awaiting editing and reading etc…
Also I am once again in charge of the WoPo site, so you might want to go and check out the fabulous writing exercises and guest authors I have lined up for you all 😉
Having said all of this I had better actually get started and do some writing or typing or both!.
It is the beginning of 2015 and a time to start a fresh and plan my writing and poetry year!
And this is ever more complicated as I am now having to keep a two year diary for bookings!
Anyway, one of the keys is to be able to keep writing, I sometimes get far too busy and that is not good nor sustainable as I need to produce new stuff!
So as always I am planning on taking part in the writing challenges such as Month of Poetry, National Poetry Writing Month and the one I help co-ordinate World Poetry Writing Month. These writing challenges allow me to carve out a specific time to write. What is happening at the moment is that my brain is full of ideas that mull and brew and then when the challenge time comes I can just sit and spew them all onto the page or screen!
Other things that need sorting is what I do and don’t have published – I’ve had to pull my ebooks at the moment due to the VAT issues so will probably end up on Amazon after all
I want to get out their more and promote the books I have but not entirely sure how that is going to fit in with everything yet!
This blog is a bit tatty as well with blogs missing that were written and then not sent live and so on, so I shall be having a bit of a sort out and hopefully work out exactly how many poems I have written.
I may even start sending them off again. I tend not to do this, or I mean to and forget and so on, somehow I still get a couple of poems published a year but it’s hit and miss as I don’t send anything off :/
Basically I have a lot of admin to do, it would also be nice to get back to some of the local events that I am not involved in somehow!
I have a beautiful note book to start the year with which will inspire me – I’d better actually go and do some writing
Written for National Poetry Day 2014
Remember the tide lapping at the shore How we walked on shingled beach War bomber fractured in the mudded flats Metal bones peeking at low tide Recall the estuary filled with birds calling You showed me the eddible weeds That grew there Warm salt, bitter Remember the old lady who swam Hat of neon pink, skin of blue There by the wall They build it as wave defence Black tar oozes and regular concrete blocks Bring to mind the pill box set inside Full of junkies’ needles And discarded love
Remember the storm that ripped the sky Spiking down and blazing the land How the sky turned dark Blistering heat and oppression Broken in the thunder The tent sagged upon itself I got wet But was denied the shelter of you I caught you a green crab By curved chimneys reaching into the sky Their roundness cloud factories You said it was edible You said it didn’t belong We put it back But I got a rash From algal blooms You drove me to town for my prescription
Thinking now Of how thisteled sand spiked my feet You carried me to my tent Where an adda lay in wait I scared it and felt sad We saved an orange ladybird The first we’d ever seen That night I was cold A whole in the canvas let in the night I thought of your arms And dreamt of tangled feet Throbbing footpaths greeted us In a misty summer dawn The mass of creatures writhed Lady bugs of all colours And not just dots but all kinds of shapes They made fitful crunches as we walked I gave up trying to save them Most starved, some bit And the sun set like a child’s painting With a moon that arose on it’s heels The whisper of the waves Lapped froth at day glo sandled feet You gave me a padded shirt To keep me warm It smelt of you
Remember the belt of rope you wore To keep up the cut offs frayed to faded fluff A sometimes shirt tight across your chest The skin turned bronze upon you Whilst I hid in sunblock and gingamed cotton There was no hair upon your chest Though you were older than me We went swimming in the sea I cut my foot on carelessness Oh my polluted sea I wept for the crimes of people You smiled I have always wondered Was it for me? My heart hurt at it’s beauty As to keep you I enthralled you in Greens and greys, browns and blues Blending together in landscapes only we saw I rescued a fledgling So sickly small It hopped on to me I was filled with hope Later laying in long sun dried grass You said it would be fine I believed you though I knew it could not be true And little rabbits stopped near us I caught them to pet You laughed that I released them Each with a new name That meant nothing but my love
Do you remember the bike rides, in the ink of night Drunkness a murmur on everyone but ours breath The smell of wood smoke as we cooked And chatted without care Subjects and philosophies dripped from our tongues The stars were pin pricks of ice In my spin
Remember how it could not last How they said we could not be The disapproval The anarchy We did not have the guts to try And the summer evaporated Autumn put dreams under glass We said goodbye So chaste the taste of you The scent in my mind A look of longing You held my hand And gave me a memory