Bedraggled autumn afternoon;
a thousand robin’s eyes watch
from the elder tree.
un hand-washing day
I was taken aback to read the following headline on the BBC:
Millions mark UN hand-washing day.
In fact, if you click through, you’ll find it is not, as I first suspected, a day of non-handwashing, to save the world’s limited soap and water resources, but a “campaign and pledge to embrace more hygienic practices by the simple act of washing [your] hands.”
So, wherever you are, and whatever you’re doing today, whether working or celebrating, just make sure your hands are (UN)clean!
the narrator in poetry I
As may be apparent from the blog title – and even moreso if you have read the about this blog page – the subject of the narrator is one I feel quite strongly about.
I write a lot of first person poetry and creative non-fiction. I also believe that real life can provide raw material for my writing.
However, despite what many people think, this doesn’t mean that I write about my life.
Continue reading “the narrator in poetry I”
a for apple
In the summer, the untended land here is mostly too dry for weeds and no lawn can survive without almost daily watering. The neighbour moves his grand-daughter’s shetland pony around between the various empty gardens and fields, and she may not be in one place for more than a couple of days, depending on the grazing.
We’ve had rain now – torrential thunderstorms and strong winds – but not enough sun to bring the weeds on again, though no doubt they’ll be knee high again in a week or so.
Continue reading “a for apple”
on translating poetry
I’ve been thinking again about translating poetry, partly because it’s a pet subject of mine, and partly because I’m hoping to run a course on the subject next year and have been preparing the course spec.
One of the recurring questions is “when does a translation cease to be a translation and become a derivative work?”.
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don't confuse the narrator 