Little Knowing, a lonely desert bird

For some reason hymns, sermons and church architecture invigorate my creativity. Yet the result usually explores a counter-narrative, such as in “Just Punishment“, a poem written this time last year which re-imagines the scene of Proverbs 7. The standard interpretation of this chapter is that the pursuit of wanton desires results in people’s downfall. The femme fatale is an adulterous woman,

People ask questions they have no right to pose

November marks an anniversary month for this blog for it was in November 2012 that I started posting regularly. Looking back at the poems posted last year (Nov. 2013), I’m pleased to report that the month’s archive crop is a particularly good one. November seems to be a good month. Perhaps it’s an echo of

Now, to – I must address

The speaker of “An address from a lectern” is, in my writer-narrator’s mind, a young woman from the Eastern Cape. From the poem itself, I guess it would be difficult to deduce as much – and that she is presenting to an audience in London. I wished to find a woman speaking from a lectern as the accompanying

The whole kerfuffle woke the stars

For World Space Week last October I wrote “On the declaration of the first day of the Year of Our Light.” There are some wonderful lines in this poem, such as “The swirling spheres in proclamation”, “Light of more silver bright” and the bit quoted for the headline, “The whole kerfuffle woke the stars.” Sometimes

The truest smile

What does your truest smile look like? Mine is at its most genuine when it crinkles across my nose. Here’s the very short poem I wrote about it. “Genuine“, along with 103 other poems, features in my most recent book, In the Ocean: a year of poetry.

Lettered objects finely wrought

I did not set out to write poetry. I intended to write Novels. And anyway, I am of the view that much superbly written and evocative poetry already exists. The Shadows of Giants loom large. At the moment I have no illusion about even coming close to their kneecaps, never mind shoulders. This time last year

we tried to love the symphony seldom played

From the archive, a poem about playing in an orchestra. If recollection serves me correctly, we may have been rehearsing a seldom performed Tchaikovsky symphony. My ongoing relationship with music has also inspired: And a – a poem with a boogie woogie beat Nightstar of Sirius – written during a jazz concert We stayed up late and

The bees credit it as some point of luxury to be on the Tube

I have written a number of poems inspired by London commuting, including this surreal scene posted last year. Here are some others: On the Way to Westminster (a personal favourite) Trapped Items Tunnel Days Tube Sketch

She takes to heart her ship

My use of maritime imagery predates the well received poem of August, “Tall Ship“. For example, there is also this poem posted last year, “Preceding seafaring that was not to transpire“. — Twitter: @BeadedQuill Facebook: BeadedQuill Books

the rooted words. Knead! Knead!

The dark encroaches earlier and the temperatures drop. September heralds autumnal change. This time last year I was already battening down by spending more evenings in with the creaking heating, baking and feeling the quiet life.