don't confuse the narrator

kisses

For no good reason, other than that it was growing close to a stone church wall, this flower reminded me of a poem written on a trip to the fiestas in southern Spain.

I remember taking an early draft to the local writers’ group for comments and being disconcerted when one of the women said she felt unqualified to comment because she didn’t know what I meant by kisses.

It’s true that I sometimes use everyday images in my poetry to represent bigger issues, but this wasn’t meant to be any kind of trick.

Sometimes, even when wrapped up in the weird perspective and mixed metaphors of an imperfect poem, a kiss is just a kiss.
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fancy pants

Looking through recent photos, it occurs to me that when I take pictures of bees they almost invariably end up as rear views.

This doesn’t seem to make much sense: surely it’s unwise to creep up on a creature whose defence mechanism is probably automatic and very much located in its rear end.
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domesticity

Eight months after moving house, I have finally bought an ironing board. Wilko, in their wisdom, describe it – along with so many of their cheaper products – as “functional”. I suppose that has to be better than dysfunctional.

Today is bright and breezy, a good drying day, if only I had a garden to hang the washing in. I don’t, though, so perhaps I won’t bother with such domestic pursuits, and the ironing board can continue in its packaging while I go out and enjoy the sunshine.
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aspirations

For no particular reason, the rosebay willow herb is one of my favourite summer flowers. The name is one I remember learning as a child, along with so many other pink and purple blooms: meadow crane’s-bill, mallow, cosmos, buddleia…

I haven’t spent much time in the UK over the last 20 years and I am struck now by the willow herb spires lining the river banks and towering above the long grasses in the fields and meadows.

There seems to be something very aspirational – and inspirational – about how they point to the blue sky: I get the impression they are telling me there is no limit to the possibilities.

A closer look reveals a host of insects busy among the flowers: a reminder that without hard work ambition may count for nothing.

Close up of honey bee on rosebay willow herb flower.

pizza again?

All the recent news about the New Horizons mission has brought to mind a poem inspired by Pluto’s demotion from planet status in 2006:

In the dog house

My Very Excellent Mother used to be
the soul of generosity, and her beneficence
a universally-acknowledged truth.
Around the world, students rejoiced
when they recalled that she
Just Sent Us Nine Pizzas.

But as time passes, so it seems, the universe
contracts; mom’s liberality is capped
and scientists decree that students
will make do with
Nothing.

Supperless
I’m banished to my room. I must redo
my fourth grade science project.