Poetry, Story idea

The Mermaid Pool

IMG_0556.JPG

It happened long ago. It was a place she would turn to from time to time,watching over her like the ebb of the tide. In and out. The silence on a still day was unbearable. The sky and sea rested but to her this was unnatural and unthinkable. How can they be calm, while all about her was pure turmoil…

Advertisements
Standard
Uncategorized

Words by Anne Sexton

Pluck That Poem

Be careful of words,
even the miraculous ones.
For the miraculous we do our best,
sometimes they swarm like insects
and leave not a sting but a kiss.
They can be as good as fingers.
They can be as trusty as the rock
you stick your bottom on.
But they can be both daisies and bruises.
Yet I am in love with words.
They are doves falling out of the ceiling.
They are six holy oranges sitting in my lap.
They are the trees, the legs of summer,
and the sun, its passionate face.
Yet often they fail me.
I have so much I want to say,
so many stories, images, proverbs, etc.
But the words aren’t good enough,
the wrong ones kiss me.
Sometimes I fly like an eagle
but with the wings of a wren.
But I try to take care
and be gentle to them.
Words and…

View original post 358 more words

Standard
Uncategorized

Poetry and Art

To me poetry and art have a natural synergy together. Whereby, one balances the other and enhances it. When you look at a painting and I also want to include good photography in this too; I am struck by its story. It is a timeless snapshot of what was going on at that moment ‘stuck in a moment’ a micro story, a poem. What a thing to have as a writer. I implore you to visit RAMM Exeter Museum and not be inspired by their treasures try Clare Woods ‘Daddy Witch’ on exhibition at this moment -what does that evoke? Or a Burra ? Or a clock or a fossil ? Great writing prompts.

Standard
LIFE LESSONS

Wild Swim Is a Lesson for Life.

Following on from my poem ‘Lady of Shallot’ I am struck  by the innocence and malevolence of water. What is it that entices  our darker side to want to go in? granted few of us actually do. I mean lakes, pools and even canals; places where you can’t see the bottom. Your scary white toes cannot touch the bottom. That’s the creepy part. It’s interdit isn’t it? don’t go near the water; you will sink, drown, freeze. It could be a life or death situation. Who wants to take the risk. We are bombarded with safety slogans from birth to grave. But, what is life without taking a plunge. A lesson can be taken, take the plunge jump in literally and metaphorically. Be it a cold pool in the Breacon Becons or sending that poem off or phoning him/her up to say sorry, to auditioning for that part you know that’s for you. You might not be able to see what lies beneath, but the surface is visible and sometimes if you are lucky it’s crystal clear.

Standard
Poetry

The Lady of Shallot

Deep high Matterhorn depths clear on top
Thunderous danger murdered under carriage.
What lies beneath?
A shattered corpse
A trapped siren?
If it calls it is a death knell,
A hymn hum to our sickened senses.
There is no glamour in a suicide watch,
No one will stop and applaud as you lay
Dying inside.
You stay at the place,

Dancing dragonflies whisper and beckon forth
‘Come sway with me’.
You are rooted to a dank spot your fungi feet spun down.

You forget your own life.
‘Come sing with us’.
Dead wood fingers grace the murk,
Rising moving.
The water is calling
Clear as grace.

IMG_0435.JPG

Standard
Poetry

War Memorial

Resurrection Parts 3

Spirit of a mighty oak
Absorb and failing in the middle
Barely barren, stripped
Bled- dry.
Shear stone-cut weary armour, watch a fearless
Fall.
Bone-cut earth now rising, fill deep pools,
that merge, with a guiding light shines up,
to fill, cloud kissed branches,
to take,
Final flight.

Standard
Poetry, Social media, Writing

Getting started: the easy part- writing, the hard part- social media!

All I have ever been interested in is reading and writing. It is what I was good at. Apparently. It fell by the wayside, I left home early, I worked. I also traveled a good deal and worked. I carried on with the reading part, but pen to paper as it was in those days was random and infrequent. I had a string of bad choice relationships. Finally, settled. I began to write and achieved my 20 year old goal of  a BA in English and even better a 2.1, how did that happen? Stop doubting yourself. Now finishing a part time Masters with even more creativity involved, I have a back log of good and not so good stuff to get out there. What to do? I will stumble on, twitter on, and face on with things. I need a blog. Advice from seasoned persons would be a necessity, so please accept my plea. How to get things I write onto a happy medium, get more published and do this career I have wanted for so long. Any takers?

IMG_0488.JPG

Standard