New stuff.

I have been working on two new themes for two different competitions. I enjoy it when there's something specific to think about. Although it's nice to choose a fitting poem or story for a competition it's also good to have the stimulus of a theme set by the competition organizers. The first theme was a 'Dear John' letter which gives a lot of scope and the other was 'land'. this also has a wide interpretation. I got two prose pieces done on the 'land' theme. Both very different from each other. One was a re-work of an existing piece and the second one was completely from scratch. It was a good brain-stretching exercise. Now I shall let them stew a bit before deciding whether to enter them into the competitions.

Rejections.

I wonder why it is that certain places simply do not appear to like certain peoples work? It seems unfair that an editor may choose to continually blank a writer and deprive his readership of their work.Surely an Editor should choose poems that appeal to their readers wide and varied natures and not simply feed them what he or she(the editor) feels is good for them. After having many poems used by many well-respected magazines and anthologies I see a pattern emerging. There are now places that I know will not use my poems and many that I know will. It is a shame because the tendency will be to only submit to those places where my work is known to be acceptable. Yet, I still feel a spirit of rebellion and continue to send to places which have never accepted a piece of my work just for the sake of letting them know that I am still here and still writing.

Back to the blog.

It's hard to believe I have been unable to write this blog for three whole weeks. I have been up to my eyes in moving furniture, decorating, replacing furniture, waiting for deliveries etc.etc. I am very grateful to Harry for doing all the heavy work that I am now unable to do due to my Arthritis. He has worked like a Trojan and one so much in terms of preparation, decoration and construction.The good thing is that now the dining alcove that was our office is now a dining alcove again and the spare bedroom is now an office with a sofa-bed(yet to arrive)and a proper desk and PC space. It's so much more comfortable and easier to work in.I am looking forward to a creative autumn and winter in my designated soft green work-space where I can work without being disturbed or hearing the phone ring. With regard to writing and poetry, well, not much of that has happened over the last three weeks. I have put some ideas down that will be developed later and I did go to the Poetry Cafe held in that nice little Swedish cafe in Rodney St. in Cheltenham.I enjoyed that and my poems went down well with one man coming up to me afterwards to make very complimentary remarks about my piece 'Lost In Transit'. Bless you Davey Jones for being so kind.I have had a further problem in that I am getting used to a different and strong pain-killer for my pain. It makes me sleepy, leaves a bitter taste and makes me feel queasy. It's hard to be creative with that going on,plus, the underlying pain itself which is always present to a greater or lesser degree. so, as my old Da would say, It's a grand life if you don't weaken. I try not to weaken but it's a struggle. Against pain, fatigue, side effects and domestic life which intrudes but cannot be avoided.

writing exercise

I enjoyed going to Buzzwords poetry last night. The guest poet Gill Learner was very good. The workshop used an exercise using random words. Odd coincidence as it was very close to the exercise I had recently put on my blog.

some stats.

I have looked up how many submissions I have made since January 2011. These are to magazines and competitions. These are the results.

Submissions made. 60
poems accepted 07.

I think this gives me roughly an 11% success rate. I wonder if this is good or bad? As I am totally bad at anything to do with numbers I'm probably completely wrong.

A few more from my published poems.

Circus Girls in the Street.

One girl stands reed- tall on spindly stilts
And bends her slender waist. Her face
Though thickly painted, still retains the gentle
Curve of cheek and eyelash. She places
Her hand upon her bony hip and leans down

To smile at me. At her wooden feet two others twist
And pose in acrobatic parody of those passing by.
Their elasticity raises eyebrows while
Their merry eyes distribute laughter
To people who scurry in embarrassed haste,

Fearful of being noticed by the confident girls.
The costumed trio cling in a giggling embrace.
They strike sparks- one against the other,
Happily teasing and posing. They fill the street
With colour as they glide through shoppers.

To beckon and yodel ‘come to the circus’.
Their beauty is un-selfconscious and glows
Through their artifice. It leaves an unseen sparkle
In their wake. They are a comet that cuts
A coloured swathe through the patina of ordinary.





Lost and Found.


I found this tiny little thing, like a leaf
Or maybe a dried up spider but
The colour was wrong.
It looked familiar but I could not place it.
It settled into the palm of my hand.
I lifted it with a fingernail, puzzled over it.
Peered at it, tried to hold it but

It was so delicately small I could only
Let it lie flat. I heard a whisper in my ear,
A mere suggestion of a voice.
A light pressure on my shoulder.
I sensed a presence as I looked to my left.
Then the fairy said
“May I have my glove back”?





Wide Windows.


Remove at once the constraints of walls
And the oppressive weight of the ceiling
That crouches in sullen menace.
Pressing air heavy and stale upon my mind.

Allow the freedom of light to enter, flowing
Like quicksilver, smooth and lithe.
Fling the windows wide, inhaling the scents
And the dampness offered by the vastness outside.

Lift your weary face to the rising sun,
Allow its soft fingers to stroke you in joyous greeting.
And blink away the silver dewy droplets
That cling to sleep-glazed eyes.

Now the blood will quicken. The senses soar.
The mind will open. Dilating, absorbing.
Taking in to the depths of every cell,
the joy of the earths’ breathing.

Inspiration

Last night Harry and I were at a private view for an exhibition of paintings, sculpture and glass art. These beautiful things were so inspirational. They keep the appetite for lovely things sated and the desire to be creative alive.I am so glad to see that there are so many artists out there working in many and varied mediums to make things simply through the need to create and to bring the joys of colour, form proportion and texture to the world.