poetry – Page 62 – don't confuse the narrator

more monsters

After the open mike last night, I was accompanied for part of the walk home by the splendidly appropriate creature in the photo.
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repetition and variation

I’ve been reading about ecopoetics, a term I rather think should refer to poems that use a lot of repetition, whether of sounds or phrases.

Perhaps in Spanish this might be the case, since there’s no orthographic distinction between the prefix eco (from the Greek οἰκο- oiko) as in ecological, and eco (from the Latin echo, in turn from the Greek ἠχώ ēchṓ) as in echolalia; but in English, I suppose I must accept that the term is used to refer to poetry with an ecological emphasis.
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a little light poetry

Last Thursday was National Poetry Day in the UK, so I am feeling very guilty that I haven’t got around to posting a poem to mark the occasion.

It wasn’t simply that my head has been too full of wispy clouds to focus. Even on Saturday, a day when I usually post, I was busy, not just with the usual domestic nonsenses, but also preparing to present the guest poets at an evening of readings at the local bookshop and community centre.
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caged

Blue-toned photo of ginger cat looking through iron railings

Today I’m posting another old poem, this time prompted by a cat – triste y azul** – who seemed to think he was in a cage:

Workspace

How can I write,
caged in by walls,
smothered by cushions
and draped curtains?
Even my balcony is barred
like a prison cell.
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you don’t know what you’ve got…

When I moved to Spain in the late Eighties, I still thought of the UK as my home. Having now, at least temporarily, ceased to have a permanent base in Spain, I seem to be in the opposite position. I don’t think I’ve ever really suffered with home-sickness, but there is always a hint of greener grass elsewhere. (Or, more realistically, greener grass in the UK and bluer skies in Spain, I suppose.)

I don’t know if the leaves in the picture are actually olive leaves – there were certainly no olives visible on the trees – but even set against the grey English sky they reminded me of the olivar I used to walk through to get to the pueblo and I had to stop to take a photo.
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