The postman leaves a poem

Today’s piece from the archive is “Without realising it, the postman left a poem.” It was a great delight last year when I composed this poem from the postman’s pre-Christmas visits. This year eight cards have made their way through the door, but I am still waiting for a verse. — Twitter: @BeadedQuill Facebook: BeadedQuill

The ruler has been on a raft

Operations Meeting, El Dorado always makes me smile because it juxtaposes the mundane with the historical and fantastical. An office meeting, overheard during a morning coffee, is recast in an imaginary Ancient Columbia and overlaid with the myth of El Dorado. — About the photographed Muisca raft: This representation of the initiation of the new

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

A near proximity to the far off poem

I suspect that “Screens” is one of those atmospheric poems that evokes interesting images, but by the end of it the reader isn’t quite sure what it was all about. Here’s how I see it: The poem sets forward how our days are filled with noise and rushing. Simultaneously we seek escape in parallel realms and our imagination. We

Exalted thus, we left

An old favourite revisited, because artists are allowed to have their obsessions. “Exalted thus, we left” is a reworking of a poem from 2011: I love the Dorothea Tanning painting that spurred the original “Jacob’s Dream for crinolined girls”. When I’m in Tate Modern, I’ll usually try to pop into the Surrealism gallery to gaze

Ignoring the pearl

Last year I wrote this diffuse poem. The setting is the large ice-mass that perhaps once bridged Siberia with North of America. A couple are migrating across this inhospitable realm. Imagine the pair dressed in furs, with all their worldly possessions in tow – tent, working dogs, blankets, food and household items tied to sleds.

104 Poems

The 2×52 project developed in April 2013 when I committed to posting two poems a week for a year. I completed my self-made creative challenge this April when I revealed the 104th poem. Next month (June 2014), all the poems will be available in a book at my Blurb bookstore. In the meantime, here are the 104=2×52 poems listed in all their glory! And for your convenience, so

In the ocean one night

I try to revive a blue whale with raw eggs from plastic bowls in different colours laid out in a wooden fishing boat. To do this you must put two or three eggs together in each bowl, watch their yolks lilt to the tide, then pour them through the whale’s sieve-like mouth. — This poem

Kindly exit

at the door or retire through the window. That will suffice. Better yet, via my ears make your retreat as swiftly and in neat compactness as a ready ball of orange wax or next time I spit, roll out over my tongue. Or next when through my eyeball I aim a withering look, consider that

Recipe

Using washed hands soft in the palm, scoop voluptuous, ivory nibs since stripped of their brown seedcoat. Blitz briefly those gently ridged amygdalae thrown by the precious palmful. Blitz briefly those sweet, curved kernels. Using floured hands sit finished dumplings on top. Ah, almonds: sweetmeat of the fruit. — I love gathering words, sentences, phrases,