Unrepeated

In the doctors’ surgery,
I hook my finger in the door handle.
It bends back to almost-breaking point.
I remember my mother’s story
Of her twig-snap, childhood moment
In a Cambridge department store –
And slow down time:
History does not repeat
Itself.

4 June 2008

Tried to fit this into a tanka, but the concept was too long! Not sure about either possible title... My mother often used to tell us about various gruesome accidents she had as a child, and their weird (mad?) doctor. Apparently, after my mum had fallen off her bike, and her arm had loads of gravel embedded in it, the doctor just bandaged my mum's arm up really tightly, with out cleaning it or picking out the gravel! My grandparents apparently finally realised something was wrong, when the smell of rotting flesh became over-whelming!

Elderflowers: The Gathering Thereof

Batch 1: 17 May 2008

The wide-eyed children
clustering around the ladder
In the playground:
“Why are you picking
them flowers, miss?”
“Has Mrs Stevenson said
you could pick them flowers, miss?”
The patient explanation to each one:
“I’m making elderflower cordial.
It’s like squash.
You add water to it,
and it tastes like the flowers.”
“Yes, of course!
I would never pick them without
Her permission.”

Batch 2: 27 May 2008

The school is closed
For half-term,
So I try the alley
near my son’s new school.
He’s seen white flowers there,
but isn’t sure if they’re
elderflowers or hawthorn.
In fact, they’re both.
An old lady with a hearing aid:
“Are you making wine or cordial?”
“I’m just making cordial.
I looked at the recipe for wine,
but I was frightened
by the mention of exploding bottles.”

The Nigerian street-sweeper
bellows into his mobile phone.
Then, when the conversation is over,
Silently uses his litter-picker
to pull down
the best-blossomed branches
within my reach.
He keeps going
till my bag is full.
“Thank you so much.
You’ve been really helpful!”
Smile. Nod.

[On the way home,
I buy a kitten.]

1 June 2008

Obviously a sort of "sequel" to "Elderflower Cordial: The Making Thereof" (23 April 2008). Again, very different from anything I've written for ages, both because it is a sort of narrative, but also because I use dialogue. I think the last time I did either, was when I was about 18! The dialogue probably sounds a bit stilted, but is actually as close as I can remember to what was actually said... The 2nd, day in particular, was a very strange, but good day: I had a dentist's appointment, because my temporary crown had fallen out on the way home from a Eurovision Song Contest Party; and because it was a bank holiday weekend, I'd had to wait 3 days to see the dentist. The hole in my tooth felt as big and as knobbly as the ceiling of King's College Chapel... I'd already got an appointment to put in the permanent crown on 2 June, and to my joy, the dentist checked to see if it had come in yet, and it had, so not only did I not have to go round with another temporary crown for a week, but I cld cancel the 2 June appointment! I then went to pick my elderflowers, and had the two nice experiences with the old lady and the street sweeper. I was struck by how doing something unusual makes people talk to you. On the way home, I passed the pet shop, which had a sign up saying "kittens", and just cldn't resist having a look. I think I succumbed to taking one of them home, because we'd stayed the night after the Eurovision party at my friend, Lynny's, house, and they had a litter of Siamese kittens that very evening, which had made both William and I feel horribly "kitten broody"; and I was feeling "full of love" for the world, after my happy experiences, and wanted to have something to pour it onto... I'm not sure if it wld be better if I dropped the kitten bit, as it probably makes it less focused, but my feelings about all the events are tied together...

A Worried Mother

Without pause, my son
Watches vampire DVDs
In a lightless room/with the curtains drawn.

25 May 2008

We spent the night at Lynny's, so we cld go to a Eurovision party nearby. Besides a new litter of Siamese kittens, and an aquarium of (captive-bred) sea-horses, they also own the complete "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" on DVD. Since William has already been exposed to it at friends' houses, I rather weakly caved in, and let him watch it while I was still in bed... I was struck by his pale face glowing in the darkened room... Still not sure which is the better ending.

Not a poem for a change...

...but I just thought you'd like to know that the year's first batch of elderflower cordial is now in bottles, awaiting labelling! (See "Elderflower Cordial: The Making Thereof", 23 April 2008.)


18 May 2008

Fear

The octopus makes itself
Comfortable in
My chest.
He stretches two tentacles
Down, to wind round
My bowels.
He wraps four around
My heart,
To crush its squirming attempts to escape.
He sends the last two up
My oesophagus,
So they can curl out of
My mouth,
And coil around
My throat.
He has to allow me a thin stream of air though,
As he realises a little too late
That he can't throttle
Himself.

2 May 2008

I seem to be writing some pretty gruesome stuff at the moment! This was inspired by my feelings of panic the previous week, (not entirely dissipated...). I originally had a totally negative ending, but realised, when thinking the metaphor through, that there was a technical problem with him strangling his own tentacles; and anyway, the situation isn't totally hopeless, so this is a truer reflection of how I feel. I am not sure if you can use the word "throttle" in this context (where is an octopus' "throat" anyway, and can you strangle anything that doesn't actually breathe air?) Maybe it's just a rubbish image... I am also concerned about the line breaks: shld I be emphasising the body parts so much, by splitting the line before them each time? And shld I repeat "round/around" so much? As you can tell, I'm not very secure about this one!

3:15am

No sirens, no cars.
I can only hear/All I can hear is birdsong.
So sparkling, so loud.

25 April 2008

More in my "comfort zone"! Needless to say, written in my head when I cldn't sleep cos I was so stressed, and the birdsong was deafening. I spent ages searching for the 2-syllable adjective in the last line. It needed to suggest something beautiful, that didn't imply keeping me awake, so I rejected "piercing", and I finally dozed off, having decided on "soaring", (slight hints of "The Lark Ascending"), but wasn't entirely happy with that, as I wanted something jewel-like. I awoke later, and immediately came up with "sparkling", which is much more what I'm aiming for! I'm also not sure which of the two options to put for the 2nd line, but lean towards the first, as the "only" assonates with the "no"s and the "so"s.

Poetry Group/The First Meeting of the Poetry Group

I take the knife
and slice open my abdomen.
I pull my entrails/intestines
out of the slit,
and arrange them –
still attached,
still throbbing –
in coiled piles,
on two side-plates
and four expresso cup saucers.

The others poke them
and stroke them,
gently
loosening tangles
and lifting steaming tubes,
to see what lies beneath.

I stuff my intestines/entrails
back inside me,
and pass the knife on
with sticky fingers.

[The next person
fans out his guts
on one large, silver tray.]

24 April 2008

We had the first meeting of the East London Stanza on Sunday, and I was aware how much more vulnerable I felt showing my poems to total strangers, as compared to Paula, who I've known for years. Despite the graphic imagery, I actually really enjoyed the meeting, and found it really helpful! Still not sure about a title, and the choice of "entrails" or "intestines": which is better in the first verse, and which better towards the end? Also, do I need that last verse at all, or shld I expand it? Is the poem just about me, or about all of us?