If it weren’t for social media, I would probably have blithely continued to not update this blog. But today my Twitter feed is full of hastags trying to distract us from global concerns and help us focus on other, more enlightening and uplifting, matters and I have been nudged into action.
Without the reminder from Twitter, I would probably have forgotten that it was #WorldPoetryDay. After all, in the UK, we get a lot more excited about National Poetry Day, which happens some time in early October. But I haven’t written any new poems for ages, so why should that make me want to post here after months of silence?
Indeed, it probably wouldn’t have been sufficient if I hadn’t also seen another hashtag and realised that it is also #WorldPuppetryDay. That seems to me to be a day worth celebrating.
Continue reading “on poetry and puppetry”
The roses in the neighbour’s garden are bright despite the weather, which has not been kind to them this summer. There’s been far too much rain and wind after the recent short but intense heatwave.
Today it’s actually been so windy that the rain seemed to dry almost before it reached the ground. Yes, there has also been some sunshine, but it comes and goes and can’t be depended on.
Continue reading “old roses”
I guess this is a typical British summer: after another short “heatwave” last week, we’ve just had a weekend of almost continuous rain.
At the start of the week, the world was a multi-coloured blaze of flowers and the buddleia-scented air was busy with butterflies and bees.
But this weekend it’s been cold and grey, and even the feathers, bells and face paints of the local folk festival have done little to brighten the atmosphere.
Continue reading “bee-long days”
I suspect many people will be spending Christmas afternoon dozing on the sofa, remote control in hand, watching the TV.
So it made some kind of sense to me when I woke up this morning with the idea of using “the restive season” as a title and writing a blog post with poems about relaxation or sleep.
Then, of course, I woke up properly and remembered that “restive” has little to do with rest – rather the complete opposite: it’s fidgety, not relaxed.
Continue reading “the restive season”
Whatever name you prefer to use for it – the Cold Moon, the Long Night Moon, the Oak Moon, the Wolf Moon, or simply the Moon before Yule – I’m afraid I don’t have a photo of last night’s full moon.
I do, however, have a number of poems with the moon in them.
Here’s one of them:
Continue reading “cold moon”
the sun flowers
and sheds its petalled light
into the corners
of our unswept lives
I said this morning that yesterday was grey, with little to recommend it. Today has not been much better, although I suppose it must be slightly brighter and less grey, if only because it has been a day of domesticity: I have been washing and ironing, sweeping and dusting, scrubbing, mopping and polishing.
Continue reading “lighter, whiter, brighter”
Today I bought nectarines in the market. Five big, dark fruits that will need several days before they’re anywhere near ready for eating. Five fruits that cost me £2.50.
As I walked home, I was thinking that if they ripen properly, they will be well worth it, but if, like so much produce these days, they ripen unevenly, or rot before they are truly ripe, I won’t be very happy: after all, they cost ten shillings a piece, and that is a lot of money.
I’m not sure what triggered that reversion to old money, nor quite what path it was that my thoughts followed past the old-fashioned rambling rose draped over the wall to the fruit-filled memories of childhood.
Continue reading “assorted fruit”