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Category Archives: Poetry
An Irish Giant
in memoriam Seamus Heaney I never met you, Seamus, And now I never will, because as another poet said, “In the forest of poetry the great oak has fallen.” Seamus, you lit the darkened corners of my mind with your … Continue reading
HOW to WRITE POETRY.
1. Write for yourself, not others 2. Find your own truths 3. First drafts are just that (you should see mine!) 4. Work out your own best processes (morning pages/candles/notebook/tablet/glass of wine/cup of tea/ meditation/ fresh air/ log fire/long walk…). … Continue reading
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Asteroid
At the dawn of time you were born, a spark flung from the cauldron of creation. You journeyed onwards through cosmic dark, child of chaos and imagination. On your billion year swing around the sun your orbit gradually decays as … Continue reading
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Troubadour
Troubadour, but not the piping boy Strolling mediaeval landscapes, Or a vibrant dancer, Seductive with scarves and flares, At rustic fairs. This minstrel stalks a different tradition, Born not of romance but of aged necessity, Her pitch cruelly reduced to … Continue reading
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The Gathering Storm
An hour before dinner, grey churning clouds assembled At the top of the lake and merged testily, Like cavalry waiting to charge. They filled the space, swallowed the strident rockface, Blanked the waterside villages below. Waiters hurried to strip their … Continue reading
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Was Worm
For this poem, I used the title of a poem by May Swenson (1913-1988), a US poet of Swedish descent. Single worm, now multiplying daily in a dense green plastic dome of kitchen waste,, devouring vegetation, feeding on the sweat … Continue reading
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THE CLOUTIE TREE
THE CLOUTIE TREE Madron Well Cornwall She wakes, May day. Checks her phone, sees summer comes at last. Leaves sleeping houses Take the inland road, through greening landscapes strewn with granite quoit and capstone shadows – black against the salmon … Continue reading
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Foreign Country?
If only some of the past was a foreign country. Remember that teacher that ridiculed you 60 years ago? The scars as familiar as the London streets you walked back then. No map needed to traverse the route that took … Continue reading
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Choice
‘There’s small choice in rotten apples’, he quoted, as he sank his teeth into the Pink Lady. The sign had declared, ‘Choice Apples’. But why, he thought, as his tongue found the worm hidden within, had he chosen this one. … Continue reading
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FURY
Can you help me? Certainly sir I need something to be furious about Well as you can see on the shelves there’s plenty to choose from, sir. Yes, you always have a good selection at ‘Fury-R-Us’. Let me see, Brexit, … Continue reading
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