original poem – Page 82 – don't confuse the narrator

computer consumables

Yesterday’s post touched on domesticity and cleaning, so I think this is as good a time as any to post this poem.

Slattern

  My laptop 
is a messy eater. Each morning
 I find tell-tale crisp crumbs 
wedged
 between its square white teeth 

alongside 
cracker fragments and 
the improbably orange powder
 of industrial snacks.

  It’s happy 
sat atop a take-out pizza box
 and olive stones have never yet
 upset its equilibrium. 

It’s anchored
 to the desk by coffee rings
 and gin-and-tonic lemon juice 
has glued the disc drive shut.

  Pass me
 a paper towel and I will wipe
 that smear of melted chocolate
 from the space bar lip.

Remember: Don’t confuse the narrator with the writer. You may have seen the photo of a dreadfully dirty keyboard the other day, but you should not assume that this poem is in any way based on real life!!

the present poetic

I recently sent a very early draft of a poem to a friend for comments. The piece began:

Catless for too many years, I have forgotten
the building of trust. She spends an hour
pacing, investigating every wall and angle,
exploring draughts from window frames
and under each door, establishing
her points of exit.

Leaving aside criticisms of the participles and the prosaic nature of the verbs – it was a draft, after all – I am interested in the comment that was made after the break on ‘spends’:
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deadlines

Once again, there’s an email in my inbox telling me that the deadline for a poetry competition I have entered has been extended. Organisers usually do this when they haven’t had enough entries; this time, they say it’s ‘by popular request.’

Since I made a concerted effort to send off my entry at 10:30 pm on New Year’s Eve – the deadline was midnight – I am a little bit peeved. I could have had another drink instead of remaining sober enough to negotiate yet another illogical on-line payment and submission system.
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TIL, bcc and other TLAs

I know that many of us grew up before email existed and we never had to worry about accidentally revealing other people’s email addresses, but I get very cross with people who forward and re-forward messages and don’t use the bcc field.

There was one message sent to me last year that particularly annoyed me. It came from a ‘friend’ who had previously laughed when I’d commented on his lack of professionalism. I think there were around a hundred people on the distribution list, including information contacts for ski-resorts and children’s schools, as well as a number of names I recognised.

The message – and the number of ‘reply to all’ follow ups – caught me at a bad moment and I wrote an irate reply to the sender, demanding to be removed from his contacts list.
Continue reading “TIL, bcc and other TLAs”

London poetry

Tomorrow, the South Bank Poetry Magazine launches issue 11, the ‘London Poems Anthology’, with prize-winning, commended and short-listed poems from the inaugural South Bank Poetry Competition judged by Niall O’Sullivan. The event is at the Poetry Café in Betterton Street and will include readings of some of the poems.

In the meantime, for those who won’t be there, here’s a London poem. Coincidentally, the original notes were taken when I was going to the award ceremony of the Barnet Poetry Prize a few years ago.

Towards High Barnet

We’re moled and burrowing
through London’s longest stretch
of tunnelling dark, until East Finchley
where sudden sunlight dazzles us.
A shock of daffodils tousles the embankment.
Ivy-drab drapes a dull brick wall
beyond which, an old man digs for victory
against perennial weeds in his allotment.