Furiously writing until the light goes out…
Vocal | Chords I want a voice of my own. | A rasp like Dylan’s -| two bars, you know it’s him. | A voice is not what you say | but how you say it; | Dylan could wring agonies | from Mary and her little lamb. | And don’t get me started |... Continue Reading →
I don't believe you can set out to write a book. Not really. And I suspect many people who set out to do so in a conscious, act-of-will kind of way, are deluding themselves, and are either unlikely to complete the task or in doing so produce something sub-standard. Setting out in this premeditated way... Continue Reading →
Curtain between the valley and the peak a slab of light sliding through the clouds flickers like a scrap of confetti easily slipped into stillness breathing hard through an open smile his eyes see with specific literacy ancient waterfalls carving in slow motion a ribbon of majestic beauty one side of a mortal... Continue Reading →
This evening was the fourth meeting of the new Stanza group which I have been facilitating just outside Derby in the UK. A Stanza is a gathering of members of the Poetry Society who meet - usually monthly - to 'do' poetry, one way or another. For our group, it is the opportunity for its... Continue Reading →
Ellen Hinsey's "The Illegal Age" is one of those increasingly prevalent books of poetry that seek to blend different structures on the page in order to aid the conveying of message. Interestingly, when it comes to appreciation, I suspect books such as this one are more dependant than most on how the Reader is 'feeling'... Continue Reading →
A great launch reading today for "Oak Tree Alchemy"! We had around 35 people in the function room at The Oak Tree in Helperby, North Yorkshire. I know all nine poets who read really enjoyed the afternoon, and I hope our guests enjoyed it too. They certainly seemed to. As always, we were well looked... Continue Reading →
Scots Pine there is a whisper in the air silence-pure a mountain breeze caresses attentive leaf-bound boughs swaying regally picking a cone from the ground you wonder aloud if they have always been there these trees these cones "if you take one home does it open and close with time?" obscurely... Continue Reading →
I used to think the answer to that question was 'No'. From the point of view of principle, I argued with myself that it shouldn't matter; that a post - if it were good enough - would get the 'reads' whenever you posted it. But I'm not sure that's true. Especially if you live in... Continue Reading →
Willow on the river the moon reflected fractured and rebuilt by the movement of the water only to be fractured and rebuilt again in the summer-evening still apologies for waves lap at the punt it feels poetic as if ancient others transported here would be able to wane more graciously than the... Continue Reading →
