Autumn

Either/or.
Crisp or soggy.
Dry or wet.
Still or wind-swept.
Blue or grey.
Fresh or humid.
Bright or dull.
Clear or foggy.

Waiting for winter’s certainty.


8 October 2008


This was another creative writing exercise with Paula, but my choice of topic (not evry original, I know!). The day before had been miserable weather-wise, whereas that day was the perfect autumn day, so I was trying to write about the possible contrasts...

Freedom

The hill.
The arms outstretched.
The wind.
The swirling coat.
The rain.
The cold-trickled face.
The sky.
The open mouth.
The voice crying [in the wilderness]:
“Yes!”.


8 October 2008


This was a creative writing exercise with Paula, when we met on Wednesday. It was her choice of topic, and my mind was a complete blank! In the end, it was just an image that came to me. Paula found it rather scary, and said it reminded her of Munch's "The Scream". Not sure about the "wilderness" bit, with its obvious religious connotations...

Paperchase

Along the street, I

follow the smiling trail of
rain-sequined photos.

30 September 2008

How could I resist imagining the "back story" to this scene: at least 20 photos of happy people at a party, maybe even a wedding, scattered along the rainy street? I wanted to avoid cliche by directly referring to the drops of rain being like tears on the photos, and hope I have managed that.

An earlier version was:

I follow the trail

of smiling photos along

the rain-sequined street.

But I think the later verison is more evocative. I'm still wondering if I shld just drop the haiku format, in order to say: "I follow the smiling trail etc..."

Ring of Fire

At dusk,

tangle-haired boys

light lemon-flamed torches,

spearing them into the soil.

The circle of light surrounds us,

as we sit drinking wine

around a round table.

The Lord of the Flies

cannot touch us here.

14-29 September 2008

It was obviously a day where I felt I had a lot to write about! We went to my friend, Michele's, belated 40th birthday party in the evening. I was very struck by the ritualistic/tribal nature of the scene, when her step-sons lit citronella torches at dusk to ward off mosquitos.

Chronicles of Death not Foretold

On a mission
to buy hot chocolate
for the tuck shop,
I look left
instead of right,
and only see the car,
when it stops beside me.

I shudder for the children
waiting unaware,
while the sirens mourn
a street or two away.


14-29 September 2008


This incident occurred a few weeks ago, when I was volunteering at the Newham Academy of Music Tuck Shop, where I spend most of my Saturday mornings in term-time. (See "OCD in the Tuck Shop" 29 June 2007!) I wasn't really concentrating, and very nearly got run over when crossng at a slightly odd junction, where a small one-way street joins the main road. I basically forgot about the possibility of any traffic coming from the one-way street. What affected me most later, was the thought that, had I been killed (or even just seriously injured!) no-one at the tuck shop would have known what had happened to me, and would have been waiting (perhaps slightly impatiently) for my return, and woudln't have connected the distant sound of sirens with my absence... I am still not sure if I need the last line, or if I've made the right choice of verb for the sirens (I had 7, as I said in the previous posting! They were (in no particular order): weep, mourn, sob, wail, howl. scream and shriek...) The title's also probably a bit "over clever"...

Somewhere

The trains pass

At the bottom of the garden.

In the dark, thundering thoughts

Rush through my sleep-seeking head:

Somewhere out there,

You are probably weeping.

Somewhere out there,

You may be dead.

18 September 2008

I've had several poems "percolating" for quite a while, but wasn't at all sure about any of them. I had another go at them today, and have got them to a state where I think the versions I'm putting here are possibly the best I can get, but I am still very uncertain about some of the decisions I've made. When I tell you there were some words for which I had 7 choices in the first draft, you might understand why! This is one of the "divorce" poems, written during the night after we finally heard some real progress had been made in the investigation into my ex-husband. We stayed at my friend's, (where I wrote "They Said it Would Snow" on 6 April this year.) that night, as I felt I needed some support. It's obviously a place where I can feel inspired... I don't think it's a good poem at all, though I quite like the second verse, but as with "Anniversary" (7 April, this year), I had to write something...

Mother's Pride

Chocolate milkshake
remains undrunk, while my son
reads Wildfred Owen.

12 September 2008


This is a sort of "sequel" to two other poems about William: "Not by Bread Alone",16 October, 2007, and "A Worried Mother", 25 May 2008.

I don't think it's very good, but it's been worrying me that I hadn't written anything recently, so it was a relief to get something down on paper...