Over the years, I’ve done a lot of travelling on the railway line between Gloucester and South Wales, which runs for quite a long stretch beside the Severn Estuary.
I usually try to sit with my back to the engine, and preferably a window seat so I can look out at the river. Although the view is very familiar, I can seldom resist snapping a picture or two.
Sometimes it’s of the view back towards Gloucester.
Continue reading “never the same twice”
Looking through some old photos, I found this, from a project I had entirely forgotten.
I’m guessing this is going to be very frustrating for those of you who read the blog on your phones as you won’t be able to scan the QR codes and read the poems. I’ll leave it to you to sort out how to get round that!
“Ah… the ‘p’ word,” said my friend Claire, yesterday, which seems a good point from which to start today’s blog post. I wonder what that phrase meant to you when you read the title.
Perhaps, because it was juxtaposed with a photo, you thought I meant pears. If so, you probably wondered why they would be unmentionable except by initial. Certainly we weren’t talking about pears or fruit of any kind yesterday. But as I had the photo from a recent walk in the park, it seemed as good a picture as any from which to start.
Continue reading “the “p” word”
It seems that autumn is nearly upon us. Certainly the weather is no longer very summery. The rain is torrential and the gusting wind makes thinking almost impossible. Even when the wind chases the clouds away and allows the sun full rein [sic] there is little warmth in the sunshine.
But clearly there is enough warmth and sunshine to have started to ripen all the autumn berries, as I found on my walk today.
Continue reading “berry bright”
Years ago, I used to participate in an online poetry forum. It was the best thing that could have happened to me at the time, as I learned a huge amount and stopped writing teenage-angst, hearts-and-flowers poetry and started to – occasionally – write something worth writing. Perhaps even, though more rarely, worth reading.
I posted my own poetry, and I learned from the comments and critiques, and the subsequent discussions. When someone misunderstood what I’d intended, or found my word choice or phrasing unsatisfactory, it was always helpful, as it encouraged me to look more closely at what I was trying to do and where I had failed.
Continue reading “the wrong poem”
don't confuse the narrator 