versification on a theme

The theme for this year’s National Poetry Day in the UK is stars. In conjunction with this, the Poetry Society ran a competition with the theme stripes for Stanza members.

coloured stripes

I often wonder how judges can hope to choose ‘the best’ of a competition’s entries when all the poems are different styles and topics, so I definitely like competitions that either suggest a theme or demand a specific poetic form, as I feel there is then at least one identifiable point of comparison.
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fragments

The photo shows what was going on on my verandah once the sun warmed up this morning and brought the wasps out to feed on a small corpse which I assume was left there by the cats.

wasps scavenging at a cricket corpse
The villagers here in Spain would call it a langosta, I think. Even with my limited knowledge of the animal world, I do know it’s not a lobster, but I’m not sure if it was actually a locust, a cricket, a grasshopper or a katydid. Whatever it was, though:
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4-ever?

Graffiti: "te quiero <3"
how many?
This bench in the village reminded me of the story about the little boy who told his aunt, “I love you millions and billions.”

“I love you, too, dear,” she replied.

At which he burst into tears, sobbing, “Only two?”

new neighbours

horses grazing
They moved in yesterday, and although they sound very close when I hear them snorting, they are mostly keeping over to the other side of the olive grove where there is a little more shade.

In the garden on the other side, we have a small flock of sheep and a Shetland pony. Maybe I should write a village memoir and call it Fifty shades of graze.

newsworthy

clarin.com headline: Es noticia: ¡hay alguien que vive de la poesía!

I’ve often wondered whether there are places more or less conducive to life as a poet.

In the film El lado oscuro del corazón, the poet Oliveiro sells his poems on the street corners of Buenos Aires, and he does so with a lot more panache than the ragged beggars who hand out photocopied scraps of hand-written verse in the Madrid metro and from bar to bar around the Spanish capital.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised, then, to find that it’s possible to make a living from poetry in la ciudad porteña, although, even there, it seems that doing so is sufficiently surprising that it rates a headline.
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