Today's prompt was to write a colour-tinged poem. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, I chose blue. Blue is my favourite colour, and also the colour which I find most expressive and most inspiring. So, without further ado, here is my poem for day seven of NaPoWriMo: Blue Where one world stops and another begins The sky is tied in blue …
On Serenity and Resignation
NaPoWriMo day six. Serenity Those sidewalks - today They remind me Of lies instead of caresses. They are grey and empty. No one misses them. Things are as they should be. I am content. No more Cheating, no more Throwing about of Complacencies. I am done Trying to disentangle The future from the entrails Of …
On Stuff that Breaks
The fifth poem for NaPoWriMo is dedicated to the thousand and one things that have been going wrong in my life. Broken Things Nothing to be done - Some things, when they break, Can't be glued back together. They shatter into an infinity Of dust particles, winds carry Them away, they get stuck In the …
No Smoke without Fire
NaPoWriMo day three. Today's prompt was to go ahead and pen an epithalamium, but I just wasn't up for the task, I'm afraid. Today was not a day for celebration. So I went and played with another form of poetry instead, the tanka, a traditional Japanese form that requires the poem to have 5 - …
Day Two of Writing Therapy
The second prompt for NaPoWriMo was to Write a poem inspired by the song that was #1 on the day that you were born. Well, apparently, number one in the UK music charts when I was born was Soul II Soul featuring Caron Wheeler - Back To Life (How Ever Do You Want Me). I …
Of Writing as Therapy, or How Poetry Just Made My Day Better
I had almost forgotten that April is National Poetry Writing Month, and as a consequence I almost missed the start. Well then, this would be the second year in a row when I am challenging myself to write one poem a day. Wish me luck, please! (Also, I've been feeling really down for a while, …
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Dead (?) Bodies
[D]ead bodies can talk if you know how to listen to them, and they want to talk, and they want us to sit down beside them and hear their sad stories. [...] They don't want to be voiceless; they don't want to be pushed aside, obliterated. ~ Margaret Atwood, Negotiating with the Dead This is …
On the Margins of an Unspeakable “Something”
Please try to ignore my almost fetishistic love for abstract and/or metaphoric titles. This post is about a lovely little art exhibition at the Walker art gallery, Liverpool. I'm talking about The Living and the Dead, an exhibition of some of visual artist John Kirby's paintings and sculptures, which is on until the 15th April …
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Poetry Goes Well With Friday, 13th
Just another thing that I wrote in-between having self-doubts and doing so-called "real work". For me, poetry remains a way of getting rid of all worries. Someone very dear to me said that this particular poem was "very ugly". In fact, that is so true that I'd love to use it as a sort of …
You know, those things that haunt you when you go to bed…
A place that I can seldom shake off my mind... A road that leads to nowhere... A moon that only shyly peeks out from the clouds... A place of farewells... And tonight's huge and very pagan moon... Another year has gone by. I salute you all.
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