I’ve been thinking about workshops recently.
No, not the sort that illustrates this post, but writing workshops for the commentary, critique and creation of original texts.
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Category: poetry
‘it gives us the other’
The abstracts have been published for the sessions at the It Gives Us the Other poetry and translation conference & workday to be held in Nottingham in April.
I suspect some people will wonder who on earth I am and what I’m doing leading a workshop there, so they’ll Google my name and some of them will end up here. (Although I don’t think there’s anything on this blog that explicitly says who I am, the Googlebots are cunning little spiders and have managed to make the connection.)
So, just so that things are made a little easier and a little clearer, I’m gathering together a few relevant posts here:
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world poetry day
I have been reminded that today is World Poetry Day – “a time to appreciate and support poets and poetry around the world.” Someone even went so far as to wish me a “happy” day, which seemed rather out of place as I’m never very creative when I’m happy.
Ah well, I really should post a poem, I suppose. But not having been very creative recently, it’ll have to be an old one.
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fine feathers three
The discussion about el Centro Educativo Los Morales and whether it might be a centre for teaching lost morals made me think of Thomas Hardy’s The Ruined Maid. I’ve always been fond of ‘Melia.
I suspect her “bright feathers three” would have been rather more ostentatious than the ones I’ve found to illustrate the post, but the cats don’t get much chance at anything more colourful round here.
I think the black and white one came from a woodpecker, and, as far as I know, was shed naturally. The blue one is from a rabilargo, whose wing was left on my doorstep, presumably as a comment on the inadequacy of a kibble diet for outdoor cats. And the rather fine spotted quill is one I picked up from a pile of feathers in the olive grove next door. Whether the cats worked as a team to bring down one of the neighbour’s guinea fowls, I don’t know, but I’d have thought it would have been too big a job for one on their own.
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cosas de caza
Further to my last post here about the crooning that woke me in the middle of the night – which turned out to be a cat defending its prey, rather than one of the locals serenading me outside my window – I’ve been watching one of the semi-ferals play with a rat in the wet grass this afternoon. He was keen on bringing it up to the verandah for me to have my part, but I assured him I wasn’t hungry, so he shared it with one of his brothers instead.
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don't confuse the narrator 