Archives for posts with tag: distractions in life

Poems inspired by sea creatures

This poem about scales is a mash-up of ideas about old flames and red herrings. Strangely, yesterday I also wrote about sea creatures. In ‘New ink cartridges‘ I paired cephalopods with writing in black ink.

The image of fish scales is courtesy of Wikicommons Media and photographed by Rajesh danji. View the original image here. You can view Rajesh’s work on his photo blog, Banglore Photo Daily.

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vintage mens clothing image, victorian era man illustration, antique catalogue page, free black and white clip art, old fashioned mens clothes

Image courtesy of The Old Design Shop, a vintage design treasury.

Buzz.	
Ping. 
Hit.
Aaah!
‘Phone 
Coffee
Cigarettes 
Skin

High Dependency Units


Another quick read poem/ non-poem, which uses a list format.

See, gentlemen, poetry isn’t such an effort to read. And there’s so much more left of your day to do other things such as check your ‘phone, drink coffee, smoke and check some skin.

(The impressions for this piece came while I was sitting at a coffee shop watching the men come in, buy their espressos, sit outside with their cigarettes and then pour over their ‘phones. An ambulance, with the words ‘High Dependency Unit’ painted on its side, drove past.)

Twitter: @BeadedQuill
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Books:

My latest volume, based on my year-long 2×52 project, will be available at Blurb.co.uk in June. In the meantime, please preview my two other titles.
Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys
Shining in Brightness

With the spit and 
fizz of fireworks,
I clinked flutes 
of resolutions
on a New Year’s Night.

Now March, the ashes
have blown away.


A week ago, I wrote about how my effervescent poetry-writing productivity has ebbed. Wail and gnash as I might, not much seems to be helping. In fact, strange circumstances have stalled production when I have tried to propel it.

Last week, for some indecipherable reason, I could not access my wordpress account from my home laptop. Readers on other computers and devices, indeed, in other countries, were able to enjoy the verses on BeadedQuill. But all I got on my screen was a little pixelated Tyrannosaurus informing me that that ‘this page is not available’.

The usual commitments and tasks of my week clattered in. Against them I asserted, come the weekend, I would sit down to writing and posting.

My landlady informed me that we would be without WiFi for a couple of days.

Fizzle.

I know, I know. A writer only needs pen and paper, and imagination. But it’s amazing how the non-presence of one’s hosted blog and WiFi can puncture the already deflating momentum of a flagging poet.

Enough moaning, for I have produced a poem for you today.
Enjoy!

Twitter: @BeadedQuill
Facebook: BeadedQuill
Books:
Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys
Shining in Brightness

Actually it’s very simple.
Either it’s in motion
or it is not.
This bears the signs
of not.
That bears the signs
of motion.
Words to-ing and fro-ing
And actions
Everything bears
the mask of nonsense.

13/1/14

A liberating revelation in my younger youth was the concept of He’s Just Not That Into You (HJNTIY). The rule-of-thumb is if someone in whom you are interested is not pursuing you, they’re really not that interested in return. In the  book  (and movie) and common understanding, the pursuit is framed as man pursues woman. I have found it a useful concept for relationships of all sorts, including job offers and even dealing with estate or travel agents. Brutal, un-nuanced and woefully marginalising of women’s agency, HJNTIY is however a great counter approach for those with too much headspace for pining, mooning and generally idealised, but unrequited, romanticism. This imaginative energy can then be better applied to creativity – playing halting Romantic Lieder on the piano, dancing Argentine tango and writing bad poetry.

It has been ten years since the book proposing HJNTIY (and its Sex in the City dialogue cameo) entered popular discourse. This probably dates me. I still consider myself more a younger sister who looked up to the SITC quartet than a peer of the Girls generation. (In fact, my younger sister prophesied that one day I – à la Carrie Bradshaw – would be sitting at my laptop in my apartment typing up many a misadventure. This evening almost fulfills her premonition, bar the fact that I type this in my little rented room.)

Many of my lovely, often truly heartbroken friends as well as my aforementioned sister have been subjected to my less than sympathetic dismissals. It’s not complicated. Either it’s happening or it’s not. Next topic. On the other hand, I have had many a patient friend listen to my timed and dated litanies – there was this, then that, then this other thing. And, he left his cigarettes behind!

“As a smoker, I can say that truly means nothing. I’m always forgetting my cigarettes and lighters in places.”

Ah yes, that was a good misadventure from eight years ago that I’d almost forgotten. Nope, never did hear from that one again. Nor from the friend who offered the advice. But this much I know and it isn’t complicated – HJNTIY.

Twitter: @BeadedQuill
Facebook: BeadedQuill
Books:
Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys
Shining in Brightness

What do you believe?
I believe	
	to see truth lived quietly and consistently 
	is powerful. My father died like that.
In trees we find tall truths
	deeper rooted than human folly.
I believe in stakes
	that make us choose a path
right, or left or denial.
	Denial comes back to 
	haunt us in choice, again.
I believe in money and class
and opportunity because we pretend
these things don’t matter.
	I must be Marxist. In part they do.
At sunrise, I believe in God.
Under stars, I breathe an awesome Universe.
In front of a computer’s glare, as I click the news,
	I believe there is no benevolence, no God.
What you sow, you reap. I like this as a concept.
Also Qi.
In the end, I believe I’m just little me.

9/12/12


A friend posed the question – and of course, I couldn’t resist fiddling some thoughts into poem.

Twitter: @BeadedQuill
Facebook: BeadedQuill
Books:
Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys
Shining in Brightness 

The flame is a scale held to the light.
It flickers in petition. It bids us to reignite
some salacity already gutted from our life.

red herring

Yes, that last line is akin to a title. I remembered that Debussy does likewise in his Préludes.

At the moment I am swimming with the red herrings. There’s perhaps another poem in that, though I have been imagining a fantastical puppet show. “Swimming with Red Herrings” would involve fire-eaters and tea-lights. There would have to be a pond on stage.

My grocery list of current cravings includes asparagus, scrambled eggs, real sheep and goat’s milk feta and the freshest pita bread from my local Greek-Cypriot grocer (Tony’s, incidentally). For some reason, I can’t get these items off my mind.

Preview my first volume of poetry, Shining in Brightness here. Follow me as @BeadedQuill on Twitter. Find BeadedQuill on Facebook.