writing and writers – Page 120 – don't confuse the narrator

bees and birds

Last week I wrote a post – summing up – in which I did a quick round up of some of my recent writing activities. I think I hoped to give the impression that I was a real busy bee.

But not every insect that fumbles the flowers is a bee.

Similarly, not all frantic activity is genuinely useful. I wonder how much of my busy-ness is real, and how much is just headless-chickening.

Duck: female mallard dabbling in river. Head not visible

en route

On a walk the other night, I came across this sign:

Kenilworth Greenway - a permissisve bridleway with kissing gates

I rather like the idea of a “permissive bridleway”, but I like it even more knowing that it has kissing gates installed along its route.

As the seond photo shows, the path also has way markers that hang out on the verge [sic] dressed in their glad rags.

I think perhaps I should be writing a poem entitled In summer, the permissive bridleway puts on its finery, but I fear that would be the high point of the piece and I would be unable to do it justice.

snail mail

This morning I went to the local post office to send a book to a friend. There are two separate counters, one for general goods, and one for official post office purchases, so, since I had to buy a padded envelope, I had to get receipts from both tills. The envelope cost me 70p.

Years ago, I worked in a school where the secretary kept a box with pens, glue, scissors etc; it was labelled stationary box because it was not to be moved from her desk under any circumstances. My father had taught me that stationery was what was sold by the stationer (the -er- matches) so I understood the joke.

Today when I got home, I checked the till receipt. Now I am wondering whether the parcel will ever arrive; I think I bought an envelope that is going nowhere:

summing up

Recently I don’t manage to update the blog as often as I would like, although I do try to write at least one post a week. The problem is, of course, that I am doing many other things as well.

Bees on white foxglove spire — it's not just the bees who are busy

Perhaps this excuse would sound more believable if I did a round up of a few of my more recent writing achievements and activities. So, in no particular order:
Continue reading

four-oh-four

Recently, I seem to be waking very early. One morning when I checked the time it was four minutes past four; it occured to me I should be writing a poem with the line “4:04: sleep not found”.

That idea didn’t seem to go anywhere, but here are a few pre-dawn lines:

awake again at 4 am

birdsong weaves around the house;
the chorus swells and fades
in fugal waves of sibilance
to spin a spell that teases out
the softening grey.