Caravaggio painting, the adoration of the Shepherds

Nativity

Caravaggio  (1609)

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 : )

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!

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

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

What is the Gryphon dreaming about? I have always wondered...

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.

The wood is desaturated.

Each tree trunk a vertical stroke,

Twigs overlap into letters,

Like discarded whimsical fonts.

Beauty is a short-lived tyranny: Socrates

Ice frosts the landscape.

Snow Clouds

The clouds seem to be merging with the earth. Everything is white.

The new picture above our fireplace...

So lucky to have my daughter.

Been working on a poem about her today. Will post a part of it later.

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...

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.

I have had a poem chosen to go into a splendid book about butterflies.

It is called Hedge Brown and it was great poem to work on. I am pleased with the finished poem so I was very happy it was chosen. The Hedge Brown Butterfly is also known as the Gatekeeper. As soon as I read that I was inspired to write about it.

From good old Wikipedia:

"The name "Gatekeeper" may refer to its frequent occurrence near field gates and to the man who was responsible for the toll gates in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries when butterflies were more numerous than they are today."

Ok I can't write a novel in a month, I just can't...

but it certainly helped me to start well and I am going to keep on with it. If I hadn't got so much work for university I think I could have given it a good shot but this month has been so busy.

The children all have a little social life that I have to help them attend. It is exhausting just driving them around and sorting out their many demands!

A barren week of writing.

Last night was the first time I worked on my novel for a while. I was too busy in real life to get to my imagined world. University work is getting more intense as well, so much reading to do every week. I am hanging on, just about!

But it means my story is suffering slightly. I am thinking about it all the time though. It has pushed poetry out of my mind which feels a little strange as I am so used to poetry ideas buzzing around all the time even as I wash up, change nappies, make dinner, walk the dog. Especially when I walk the dog. Now it is scenes from my novel flicking into my head.

Got an hour now, must write as much as I can in it.

Word Count today? 40

and they were:

'At odd times she would pick up the tarot deck and pick a card, willing it to tell her the answer, solve the confusion of her past, or predict a solid point in the frightening empty canvas of the future.'

That took long enough, and it is utter nonsense really, today has been a writing disaster. And now to bed...

The characters are taking shape and have beating hearts...

I stayed up until 2am last night, writing about my secondary characters. My main girl is quiet and her brothers are doing all the talking. I didn't get that many words done, not as many as I needed but I am pleased with what I wrote and I am excited by it. I want to to keep going and it doesn't feel like hell. It feels like fun!

Good writing advice...

I know the feeling of not writing anything because I can't decide where I want my characters to go and I don't want to commit to a path that removes all other potential pathways...which may be better.

On the NaNoWriMo website they have pep talk pages which are worth reading.

This gem stuck out, by Janet Finch (her therapist came up with it.)

"I know it feels like you have all these options and when you make a decision, you lose a world of possibilities. But the reality is, until you make a decision, you have nothing at all."

Small progress but it is hard to write in the evening.

My mind is kind of broken after seven. I just want to watch Jamie Oliver cook noodles or read Twilight. I don't even speak much in the evening, we sit in comfortable silence. After being moaned/chattered/demanded/screeched/ laughed at all day by three small peeps I run out of words.

However, I have ground out 2000 words this evening, My novel is taking a shape, a voice. Not the one I imagined, it seems to have a life of its own. Maybe an exhausted voice.

My writing buddy, Fuller, is way ahead of me. As usual I am both proud and jealous. Excellent motivation.

Haven't written a single word today.

I normally try and write in the morning but it all depends on what the children need. I find as the day goes on my ability to write slowly evaporates into exhaustion. Even though I want to achieve my goal of 15,00 words a day I have to be realistic...the kids come first. That's how it is. I will do it though, nothing will stop me being a writer and there is no time limit on it.

The cold weather makes me wish it was still the summer holidays...

NaNOWriMO

So today is the start of National Novel Writing Month, the aim is to complete 50,000 words by 30th of November. There is still time to register today if anyone feels like banging a novel out. Even though I have no time I am going to attempt it. I will never get on and write a novel unless I have a time limit to work to. So I have the idea and a basic plan/ structure and I am going to write 1600 words a day (try!) Will see where it takes me, the characters could completely change and the genre. But it will be a fun challenge...or a massive stress as I fall behind in my word count.

Word and Sound poetry night at Worcester Arts Workshop.

 The venue is atmospheric and intimate. The vibe is very welcoming and chilled out.  All different styles of poets attend making it an exciting evening as you don't know where you will be taken next as the words fill the room. The next event is 17th December 730pm-10.30pm

Tiger, Tiger, your light is dimming...

The last few weeks I have been working on poems about tigers. In the past I have been more concerned with the plight of the orangutan but I have been thinking a lot about the tiger because my small son has developed a great love for them and our house is full of stuffed toys, books and pictures. He also likes me to paint his face with stripes so he can BE a tiger.

A friend posted a link on facebook about a new project to raise awareness about the tiger through art...

"The Tiger Tiger campaign  is an arts and fundraising project, founded by arts for education company The Written Image in May 2010. The aim? – To raise awareness through art.  Its quite simple isn’t it? There are less than 3,200 tigers left in the wild.  By 2022, Tigers could be extinct."

It prompted a surge of thoughts about how tragic it would be to live in a world without tigers. They are so beautiful and graceful, fierce and lonesome, my son loved them as soon as he was old enough to articulate it. I think all humans feel in awe of the big cats. The poem I submitted was chosen to appear on the blog the week. There will be new poems and fiction pieces posted each week so please click on the link and check it out. The travel piece by Andrew Kirby is incredibly vivid.

Tiger Tiger Blog

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