Monday, 20 December 2010

Our sunday in the snow.

 Our house on the edge of the snow covered field.

 Daddy had to pull three children for a long way. Good exercise though and much giggling. I followed behind because the baby decided to get off. He had cold fingers because he was holding an icicle like it was a lost treasure.


Fingers warmed by an illicit bottle of milk. Far too big for this now but as long as he still pronounces it 'bobble' he has me wrapped around his little finger : )

Friday, 17 December 2010

Silflay

Two small rabbits were in the field when I pulled in tonight, the headlights made them pause and then they scampered. I immediately though the word, silflay, when I saw them. In rabbit language it means to graze and eat the shoots of grass. Of course, you have to have read Richard Adam's book to know that. I wonder how many people think of Lord Frith when they see a dead rabbit on the road, or is it just me?

great night of poetry and music tonight at the Word and Sound






Bob would have approved even though he didn't get one of his songs covered, great version of Susanne by Leonard Cohen was played instead!

I read a few poems. Two winter themed ones which suited the frozen night outside.

Peace on Earth


The final Christmas Card picture.



The baby looked great in this one but the dog looked too yellow in the eye!


All the Christmas spirit was gone by this point!

Thursday, 16 December 2010

Iglu

I dream
in shades of blue
the view down a tunnel
blocks are cut in an hour
light turns the white ice
shades of blue    I dream
of animal skins
they hold back death
in here it is hot
the brown skin on your
stomach has never been
touched by the sun    I touch
the furs beneath my back
are hot, the grey fur
is filled with lost
shades of blue
I dream



Wednesday, 15 December 2010

Listen to live poetry this Friday...


Starts at 7.30, book a slot on the door.
Worcester Arts Workshop, Sansome Walk
£3 for the brave
£5 for the audience 

More details here

Monday, 13 December 2010

The dull thump of a rejection letter on the mat.

So, two anticipated letters arrived this week with the news I did not want. No thank you. Poetry rejection letters. It is disheartening to think of my poems out there and an editor reading them and deciding they are not good enough. Poetry can appear simple, a few lines and finished. But the lines hide hours of thought, careful consideration behind each word and comma.

So my poems are spread out on the table. I can see the flaws in them. I also still see their potential, why  I love them.  I know I can write better. So I will, keep learning, keep writing, keep sending them out.

Friday, 3 December 2010

Thursday, 2 December 2010

Snippet of Sylvia and Ted talking about how they met.

Two minutes of Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes being interviewed and they talk about how they met and wrote poems to each other. I can imagine the longing and intensity of those poems.

The courtship of poets...

Wednesday, 1 December 2010


The cold snap is making us all want to curl up with a blanket in front of the fire. The wood is chopped and piled up ready to burn. I have stocked up on food so we can hibernate for a few days. Just sit and watch the flakes drift down.