no change

It’s Saturday and, as usual, I’ve spent half the day wondering what on earth I’m going to write on the blog.

Not having had any major new insights or flashes of inspiration, let’s continue from last weekend, when I said that I was trying to choose which poems to read at an evening where the theme was change.

I didn’t find it a very easy task and reckoned that it would be much easier for the writers of fiction: even I know enough about plotting to be aware of the common story structure that sees the protagonist undergo a transformation, but that really can’t be applied to poetry.
Continue reading “no change”

changing voice and mood

Next week I’m taking part in an evening of readings and yesterday I received an email reminding me that I needed to supply a biography and also give some idea of genre and tone for the pieces I’ll be reading. The suggestions offered were: “prose/ poetry; fiction/ non-fiction; light/ serious”.

I understand that the running order will probably work better if tragedy isn’t sandwiched between doggerel, but I don’t usually make decisions very far in advance – after all, I might yet write a new piece that is just perfect for the occasion – so just at the moment I have no idea what I’m going to read.
Continue reading “changing voice and mood”

reflections on perspective

Yesterday I wrote about details and concluded that what you see depends on your perspective. This is not a new topic for this blog: I think I’ve made it clear over the years I’ve been posting that I think we have a lot of choice about which lens we choose to view things through and that Hamlet was right when he said:

there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

Continue reading “reflections on perspective”

unreliable narrators

The photo above, taken late last week, shows autumn at its sunniest: all ginger and bright, the sort of day that tempts you to scuff through piles of rustling russet leaves, even if you’re wearing smart work shoes.

The tree in the next picture, with its red leaves flaming against the clear sky, reminded me of the burning bush.
Continue reading “unreliable narrators”

not exactly floral

I seem to have posted a lot of pictures of flowers and fruits recently, which is slightly annoying, as it sometimes seems as if this blog is turning into a photo report of a harvest festival.

This isn’t what I am aiming for, and I am reminded of a question that cropped up when talking about writing some years ago:
Continue reading “not exactly floral”

a rose for summer

Apparently the summer solstice and the full moon coincide tonight, so here’s a white rose – a rose for summer and white for the moon.

white rose

White roses always make me think of this line in Laurie Lee’s Home From Abroad:

The hedges choke with roses fat as cream.

Continue reading “a rose for summer”

endings and beginnings

About ten days ago I was running to catch a bus to get to a meeting when I passed a huge may tree in full bloom. I hadn’t time to do more than pause and then rush on, but I thought it’d be a good idea for the last blog post of this month: how we have two bank holidays in May, and yet neither of them are May Day; how the English say Ne’er cast a clout till May be out – whether that be the month of May or the blossom – while the Spanish with their far balmier climate say hasta el cuarenta de mayo no te quites el sayo – don’t take off your coat till the 40th of May; how taking may blossom into the house is supposed to bring bad luck…

Of course, I then forgot to go back and take the picture.

This morning I went across the park and there are plenty of trees and other plants in bloom, but I didn’t find any hawthorn.

The park was frothing at the hedges with cow parsley:

cow parsley
Continue reading “endings and beginnings”