Wednesday 23 October 2013

sri lanka here we come



The Sri Lanka trip with Ocean Stars charity, I am almost in the zone and it's seven hours before leaving: ostsrilanka2013.blogspot.com

Thursday 17 October 2013

the me of now

Sitting late, eating dinner in one hand and typing up the words of Derrida on spatial arts with the other. Ah Derrida. How I love Derrida. He makes so much sense: so eloquent, so true, so tight, so wise, so exhilarating - I wish I had been older, I had been the me of now, when I heard him lecture in the 80s, it all slipping far far far far over my head

Wednesday 16 October 2013

Romania

Invited as a guest poet to the Brasov celebration of European women poets in Transylvania, I am the only native English speaker in a town so beautiful and brightly coloured with autumn reds and yellows that I am continually marvelling - a real feast for eyes and ears (Romanian being a mix of Slavic/Latin and its own very unique sounds). The beginnings of some good poetic friendships are also forged, in the shadow of not-the-vampire castle and the stunning peaks that surround the town.

Tuesday 8 October 2013

wedding poem in my head

This is a draft, right? Came as I was sitting, aimed at me at all angles, rhyme to the fore. I couldn't have ducked if I'd tried. But once I started to type it up the flow slowed, halted, muddled, muddied and my memory of the lines was less clear as well, so has really made me think again about returning to composing in my head, away from screens, boards, papers, wax tablets....... memory-weakeners:


Malc & Sue's wedding sonnet (draft 2)

Shall I describe you as some other couple
who've come to plight their troth this sunny day
or are you something else, are you both double
that - mature and wise and brave enough to say

yes this is person that I choose
to spend my life with: even though they see
my imperfections well, they don't refuse
but welcome them with love as part of me

yes - both say this so happily, turning to look
straight in each other's eyes, with love, delight
reading their partner like a favourite book
with which, though earthbound, they can now take flight

to explore life's offers openly, together
and share with us in rain and sunny weather.

Sunday 4 August 2013

french bean



cut cook consume
the squeaky clean and hopefully stringless
fine green french bean

radish



the fiery raw rush
of a rapid reddish
radish root

kale



all hale hearty never-
failing kale, hungry gap food
economy of scale

parsnip


its sweet yellow
fleshy roots snaffled up before
you can say parsnip

carrot



wetness of carrot
oozing
in a spicy cake

potato

chunky, nobbly-eyed,



                                                               the potato says 'hi,


                                                                                                                              will you be my friend?'

lettuce




let us consider
the lettuce - dressed in matchless
red green salad-aptness

broccoli



thin dark leaves on
hunky trunky clumps of tree
o broccoloccoli!

courgette



a little courgette
zucchini, steamed boiled stuffed baked fried
goes a long way

blackcurrants



too sharp for birds
almost too heavy for branches –
blackcurrants

apple



out of twelve hundred
kinds of English apple
you plucked me

apricot



snug by the wall
the one the Pennine wind forgot
Todmorden's first apricot

Friday 2 August 2013

Poet of the month

The best part of being poet of the month (August 2013) is I had to start thinking/writing my poetics - why I write, how, what it means - read it and see what you think.

I like the end bit I put

'the mood, rhythm, objectness of what goes down on paper and of what does not.'

Wednesday 31 July 2013

curly leaf parsley






curly leaf parsley
after the first straight-edged leaves
the frill of the third

Tuesday 23 July 2013

early

I woke up so early today, was it the light? the lack of thunder? the newly harvested, and new to me, aloe vera gel that I smeared on my hands yesterday from one of my many aloe plants. typing now i can see the sunrise colours reflected in soft pastel cream pinks and blue in the west - reflection sunrises can be the best... living backwards!

Tuesday 9 July 2013

cabbage fame

My little cabbage poem is going further, not only has it been read, on a cabbage, in Manchester and Malvern to rave reviews, http://stirredpoetry.wordpress.com/2013/04/30/stirred-relaunch-rocket/, and featured on www.incredible-edible-todmorden.co.uk/blogs/?c=edible-poetry, but now it is going to North Carolina to Piedmont Community College where as we speak Ginger Ferrell is painting it into a picture for her community class. Here is some of her previous work: http://www.theglassprize.co.uk/ginger-ferrell-p-806.html.

Where will the cabbage roll to next?
And what is it about cabbages that has this effect? Is it the glow?

Anyway I think the poem deserves a space on this blog as well





                     taken apart, the cabbage
                     becomes all heart
                     and leaves

Wednesday 3 July 2013

digging and polishing

writing with novelist in house for the week (what a great idea), she is steeping herself deep in an ancient world reading revising writing polishing as I tunnel through my poem drafts, punctuated by teas, coffees, cafe visits and a trip to tadpole tarn, while workmen dig up my messy tarmacked path to create a smooth flagstone walkway - days of busyness

Monday 22 April 2013

Reading Vegetables

Fantastic night at Stirred's new venue in the wonderful Three Minute Theatre in Manchester. I decided to use my spot to experiment with poems written on vegetables ('on' as in physically 'on'). I thought the cabbage worked particularly well as it involved peeling back the leaves to read each word.

I had a really interesting discussion with an artist, who was painting each open mic participant as they performed, on how to write / paint my carrot poem with it being reabsorbed into the carrot.  He suggested I wear vegetable jewellery as well, and even drew me sketch of how it should look - still thinking about that one.

Saturday 6 April 2013

Jackdaws

I have a new neighbour, in my chimney, chucking down twigs and chirping and knocking on the wall and perhaps the sound of beak scraping and smoothing mud, a symphony of nest-building being played out in my 'library'/'bedroom'. I checked in the birdsong book - jackdaws. I tried lighting a fire to put them off moving in, before reading the RSPB advice : do not whatever you do light a fire - it's illegal to disturb a wild bird at nest and jackdaws are persistent critters anyway so give up the fight and remain fireless till the autumn.
I was very happy about the bluetits moving into the birdbox and moment-stoppingly (?) delighted whenever they come in or out so now I am transferring this attitude, hoping that what I have till now viewed as a pest/nuisance/difficulty can be transformed into an interesting and unusual neighbour. I know nothing about jackdaws, so think of it: jackdaw chicks hatching beside (apart from one wall) my pillow.

Tuesday 2 April 2013

Leek poem



tall green mild and meek
not quite the full onion
the gentle leek

Friday 8 March 2013

Songs for my Grandmother

Below are the poems that form the text of Seaming To's Songs for My Grandmother, her song sequence featured in today's (9 March) Financial Times. I worked closely with Seaming when writing these and spent a really lovely day with her, her grandmother and mother, which I treasure.
Amazing, very creative experience. I have found the musical and performative results extremely moving.


Tour details:

Sun 10 March- LONDON - Purcell Room, part of "Women of the World" festival
Mon 11 March- MANCHESTER- Band on the Wall
Tues 12 March- BRAWBY- The Shed
Wed 13 March- BRIGHTON- Dome, Studio Theatre
Fri 15 March- OXFORD- North Wall Arts Centre


http://sounduk.net/event_page.php?eid=36


Text of poems:

Through

while your breath becomes shorter
your body grows tired
soft skin gains more creases
movements less fire

the squirrels keep stealing
the bulbs that we bring
mistaking for nuts
what we plant for spring

change that will change
every move every step
slowing down holding on
letting go of the breath

we can watch it with sadness
we can watch it with love
we can hold it in quietness
we can cry out 'enough!'

but change keeps on changing
whatever we do
the moment still passing
as life slips on through

the breath become shorter
the body more tired
the soft skin the creases
the movements of fire

the squirrels still stealing
the bulbs that we bring
the nuts they are hoarding
become tulips of spring



I Ask

I ask when they first kiss
maybe one or two years after
she tells me bashfully
such hard questions to answer

She points out a play on words
disappointed I do not know
she wants so much for me to understand
gently kindly so

We look at the picture
tiny, one inch by two in size
the vicars stand beside the couple
24 December 1945

A choir sings at the wedding
It must have been a lovely day
her eyes closed she is listening
her head nods knowingly



Graduation wish

May a star rise up to meet you
in the origami folds
May the road of paper lead you
to a tissue house of gold

Not everybody looking sees
(alive and full of colour)
behind her poise, authority
performing father
remaining mother

Where the wind is always at your back
your feet firm on the ground
and God has smoothed the paper flat
with the hollow of his crown

Not everyone who looks can see
(her face so full of colour)
past the reserve, beyond the need
performing father, retaining mother
(spirited, joyful, free)



Edge of Bearable

I do not say
she does not let me say
family of voices, clustering
before the edge of meaning
tread cautiously
the edge of sense

the shell is porcelain thin
do not break through
here where we are
keep holding in
tread cautiously
keep sheltering

my mouth is stopped
from storms we do not speak of
the quiet of after
winds long since died down
debris folded into earth, rich brown
the quiet of after
life becoming new and green
the storms moved on
the winds long gone

I do not stray
she does not let me stray
beyond the edge of bearable
and so we leave behind
the weather that I never knew
and there is little walking here, less witnessing
here where we are no more
beside the edge of bearable
we sing we fly we soar



I Only Look The Part In Photographs

only just touching 
your language with my fingertips
see how I stand, still, silent, awkward
failing to claim the great the original chinese

so many things you will not speak
so many things I cannot tell

cloth falls in folds around me
essential buttons gone
I fumble, cannot fasten it
I disappoint, we disappoint
I only look the part in photographs
this hand me down that doesn't fit



what was..

what was not quite then memories now reeld back un saya ble



Circle haiku

before words see in silence

[before words see in silence
words see in silence before
see in silence before words
in silence before words see
silence before words see in]



Chinese Proverb

When drinking water Tong Lai Yuen died
from river See Yuen geography in memory
of our teacher Yuen thinking of favourite
consider origins See Yuen from where Yuen
river source the water comes






deer in the valley

Back in circulation I am greeted by two deer (yesterday morning) in the little valley behind my house. I saw one and thought - that's a very large dog - and then realised. Ah....


Friday 18 January 2013

pre-hibernation questions

why is a very hot latte the best cure for bentbackovertinyunergodynamiclaptapforfartoolong syndrome and why does it have to be drunk in the particularly atmospheric Bear cafe?

how many more questions can I answer before retreating into the long meditation course?

have i bought toothpaste, read viv's performance articles, attempted corn of cob poem for incredible edible todmorden?

and should I buy pineneedles? - what moomintrolls eat before hibernating.



Friday 11 January 2013

touching minds



touching minds – all do
over edge-slamming edges
water brain



been thinking alot about telepathy, wondering if we all do it and if it is around alot but we just dont notice we just discount it all the time as a funny feeling or less - i think so

Thursday 3 January 2013

Edward Thomas and de la Mare

Very pleasing to have a review with which I completely agree even if it is only a mention at the end!
Thank you Seren for publishing this book!
http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2012/dec/28/book-review-now-all-roads-lead-to-france/