poem – Page 51 – don't confuse the narrator

make it fresh: pizzas and poetry

The publican’s apostrophe in the picture caught my attention.

Closer inspection suggested that it wasn’t the only problem: my friend wondered what would happen if he turned up with a pizza that had seen better days and ordered them to “make it fresh.”

I was reminded of telling another friend about a poetry competition on the theme “Fresh voices” and her suggestion made that “fresh” ought to be reserved to describe bread, milk, eggs, etc. That discussion might have been pedantic, but it inspired me to write a winning poem.

Hunting around for it in the archives, I am amazed to discover that it was written in the year 2000. It also surprises me that I have never posted it on the blog. Here it is:
Continue reading “make it fresh: pizzas and poetry”

dydd dewi sant

It’s St David’s Day, and they say Tri chynnig i Gymro, so it seems appropriate to post three photos, all taken in Wales.

In every town and village
grey stones
grey skies

Continue reading “dydd dewi sant”

watch the birdie*

Bright plastic pegs
perch along the clothes line:
a flock of tiny parrots

(*Perhaps the post title should have been “wash the birdie”!)

valentine

I know that you’re
a thousand miles away,
yet each grey car I glimpse
demands I look again

losing the thread

Amor, Amor
(after Garcilaso de la Vega)

Love offered me a cloth so fine and rich,
 with folds so ample, I could not refuse 
but sewed myself a habit, stitch by stitch.
 I find the garment shrinks with daily use:
 its generous measures pucker and draw tight,
 I suffocate where once I’d room to spare;
I stretch and strain to free myself, I fight, 
yet still the precious fabric will not tear.
Come, show me one who wants to cut these ties –
 these homespun tapes we fashion for our lives
 to bind ourselves to husbands or to wives –
 and I will show you one who’s spinning lies.
 Each wears the cloth he wove, though I confess 
I wonder if mine’s shroud or wedding dress.