lacking inspiration

Once more, my mind is as empty as a dead teasel head.

I’m sure it has plenty of potential spaces for ideas, but there really doesn’t seem to be anything in them. And just at the moment it seems unlikely that there ever will be again.

Even the next poetry reading that I am appearing at has me stumped: the theme is sport and I really don’t have much in my files that is in the least appropriate.
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sporting blues

The first time I posted the poem 21st-century pugilist to the blog, I didn’t really have the right picture, so it was accompanied by a photo of the wrestler, Stan Roberts.

Now, though, I have a photo of the statue of Randolph Turpin, the boxer, so I think it’s a good time to re-post the poem, which was written in Spain around eight years ago:
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students playing football, Midlands, England
I don’t often get involved with topical news stories on the blog, but this photo of lads playing football in the Midlands, taken on a glorious autumn afternoon a couple of weeks ago, seems doubly appropriate now as the Football Association celebrated their 150th anniversary yesterday and storms are forecast across the country today.

Olympics II

In keeping with my previous post, I am unaware whether the the Beijing Games have already finished or are just due to do so, although, despite news boycotts and a general head-in-the sand attitude, the information is filtering through that the end is nigh.

All along, the “Team GB” nomenclature has been irritating me and I have finally decided why. There’s more to it than the fact it just sounds silly.
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Olympics I

I suppose there are a number of blogs out there which have been extra busy during the Olympics as the writers have been keen to share their opinions about the Games. And other blogs where there’s been little activity as the writer has been too busy watching to write. For this blog, though, the lack of recent posts is unassociated with events in Beijing.

I’m not a great fan of any sport, though I suppose I used to enjoy watching the football – supporting whichever team the boyfriend of the time supported. But, unlike the colleague from years ago who listed her hobbies on her cv as “Rugby, football, cricket, rowing – spectator only”, I have never really understood the pleasure of watching other people play sports.
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