I went for a walk beside a canal the other day and hope eventually to write a poem about the swans I saw there. 
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Tag: poem draft
the name game
Yesterday I was working on a poem inspired by something I was told ages ago, which had re-surfaced in a conversation earlier in the week.
So far all I have is this:
Vanessa says,
I’ve heard tectonic plates move
at the same speed fingernails grow.
A flourish of bright acrylic tips
adds emphasis, and then: I like to think
it indicates a kind of synchronicity –
shows we’re in touch with Nature.
Although it hasn’t got to where I want it to be – which would be at least three times as long and with something actually happening in there – I was wondering what to call it. (In my own filing system it’s down as ‘tectonic nails’, but although that may help me keep track of it, I don’t think it will do for a title.)
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dissecting a moon dream
I mentioned the conversation that triggered my wanting to write this piece in the post of poetry, maths and cars. Although it’s still no more than a fragment, it seems to have reached that annoying stage where it’s settled and doesn’t want to be shifted, although I am not happy with it.
The road stretches long into the night.
To their left, the belisha globe of the moon
rises behind mountains made ragged
by pines. He says, I’ve driven
to the moon and back three times at least.
She watches his steady hands on the wheel
and hopes he’ll take her with him next time.
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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insomnia
In A Far Cry from Kensington, Muriel Spark wrote:
the quality of insomnia depends entirely on what you decide to think of.
I don’t suffer from insomnia. Ever. I do have a few sleepless nights. And when I do, I tend to try and write poems in my head. The repetition is often just as effective as counting sheep.
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don't confuse the narrator 