I haven’t written anything new for a while, but am pleased to have polished some old poems and I actually sent off a competition entry today, which is the first I’ve managed in many months. I’ve also recently applied for a place on a course, and offered a workshop for another course, so it’s not that I’m not thinking about poetry, just that I don’t seem to have any new ideas.
So, I was wondering what I could post, and glancing back over the recent blog entries I saw the one about el conductor que más habla del mundo. This got me thinking about the many coach journeys I’ve made in the UK, particularly along the M4 between London and South Wales. And I remembered the days when National Express used to employ stewards who would serve hot drinks and sandwiches.
I remember listening to the driver and steward talking on one such journey and making the following notes. I think the conversation was in English – though the accents were clearly Welsh – but I only remember the general sound, none of the details.
Overheard
They speak
with the deep brown vowels
of the valleys. The broad sounds
of a land exposed to Heaven
roll between them
thick as clouds, and thunder
echoes in their throats.
My files say this dates back to 2002, and I don’t think it’s really a poem, but it seems a fair contrast to the chatter overheard on Spanish bus trips.
Incidentally, I’ve been clearing out some papers this afternoon, trying to find something, and found notes for poems I didn’t know I’d ever even thought of. Maybe I’ll tackle some of those and produce something new soon.
