Archives for posts with tag: sun

Photo by Anders Knudsen via Flickr | Creative Commons

A blazing sickle of the sun
cut a toothless smile
unseen by rushing city men
caught up in the Mile.

Thick cloud across
the southern skies
obscured the time majestic
when darkness peaked –
nine thirty-five:
a normal day of business.

21/3/15

This poem was inspired by the solar eclipse mania of last week Friday. I was so excited about the event, but it hardly filtered through the clouds that covered London that morning. The only indicator was eeriness and discord as the birds registered the unusual event. All the busy city folk continued with their commutes to work. I, like others, was at my desk.

The day’s later blue skies allayed my disappointment. The day moved on.

On the commute home, I was reading the follow-up articles in the Evening Standard when some ideas for a poem started to form. So, here it is – a little after the event, and with some touches of artistic license (the peak time of the eclipse, for example).

What was your experience of ‘the smile in the sky’? Did you take any photo’s?

I have written some other poems that feature the sun, stars and moon:
On the declaration of the first day of the Year of Our Light
Transition/ Disclosed
Another Summer’s Day
Philip’s Log: Entries about my moonlit sylph

Twitter: @BeadedQuill
Facebook: BeadedQuill
Books:
In the Ocean: a year of poetry
Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys
Shining in Brightness: Selected Poems, 1999 – 2012

Green Lock and Door

By Swastiverma (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

The lock on the bolt
hung like a coat
flashing its lining
of polished gold.
The weathered door was envious;
Its varnish long sapped
by the sun.

New poems have been a little scarce recently because I have been writing about my dating experiences again. I have yet to find the courage, or fictionalising voice, to share these tales with the general public. Some have said I should; others have cautioned against it. Being a geek, what I have done is turn to research.

From my local library I have borrowed dating memoirs and raunchy books about female sexuality (you know the sort that raises the librarian’s eyebrows to a quiver and the only issue dates to three years back). I’m currently reading a psychologist’s take on infidelity and the difficulties of monogamy. Plus I’ve been on something like 21 dates with 18 men, with another scheduled for 45 minutes from now. For an introvert, this has proved exhausting. Not surprisingly, I have been down with some chest infection, which is now on day 11. I’m not sure if there’s actually any real point to the whole dating enterprise. It has been said that for every 12 ‘nos’ the 13th is a ‘yes.’ I’m also still waiting for that to transpire in my career

Today’s poem is about a polished, gold lock on a weathered door. Perhaps it’s a meditation on my exhaustion and envy of the seemingly solid. Irrespective of any psychoanalytic interpretation, I hope you enjoyed the short verse.


Twitter: @BeadedQuill
Facebook: BeadedQuill
Books:
In the Ocean: a year of poetry
Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys
Shining in Brightness: Selected Poems, 1999 – 2012

A Blow-fly (Calliphora, probably Calliphora vomitória). Photo by Jens Buurgaard Nielsen via Wikimedia Commons.

Soft to the thumb,
the pear I sliced
was gone.
It was rotten inside.

In a wither of ruffles
the rose-heads have browned
dry in the heat.
They sodden after it’s stormed.

Even the blowflies ferocious
have stopped their wings,
landed their green torpedoes
for the last time.

Something from lunch
churns in my stomach –

the rice, three days old?
the dhal, two days defrosted?
the sliver of cheese, too sweaty?
the coffee, a cup too many?

Now I, too, struggle 
to hold down this summer.

25/7/2014


At the moment in London, it is exceedingly warm during the day. Not that it doesn’t get hotter in other places, but here nothing is equipped for the heat. Flowers wilt, flies buzz themselves out, food perspires and no sooner have you laid it in the bowl, the fruit ripens. Even the broadband at the house has conked out.

So I shall have to venture to the library to post this poem and a few scheduled archive items. It was my plan to do so early, when the day was still cool from the night rains and the school holiday crowds hadn’t descended. But I went dancing last night… I too am not quite sure what to do with myself. This is not so much because of the heat. I am a born-and-bred Cape Town girl, after all. (In truth though, I – and my Medea hair – do struggle with the humidity.) My muse seems to be awol once again.

Perhaps my muse has also surrendered to this overdose of summer.

Twitter: @BeadedQuill
Facebook: BeadedQuill
Books:
In the Ocean: a year of poetry
Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys 
Shining in Brightness: Selected Poems, 1999 – 2012

March14 092

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A merry poem from the archive about summer’s sunny kisses.

Vintage postcard image courtesy of Postcard Diva.

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Author: Arpingstone.

The sweaty gym clothes
yelled in the tog bag,
m8t$er f%$*er could the day get any worse?
But in the Zara and Topshop bags,
short summer dresses from the 
50% off rack just giggled at the hope of seeing sun.
The backpack lugging the laptop 
for an evening of more work simply sighed. Weary 
would carry them home.


Another poem inspired by my commuter experiences on London’s tube.

Twitter: @BeadedQuill
Facebook: BeadedQuill
Books:
In the Ocean: a year of poetry
Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys
Shining in Brightness: Selected Poems, 1999 – 2012

Grass grows to an unruly height.

It makes the lawn untidy.

Restore order, with its low rumble.

First it breaks a Saturday lie-in.

It leaves clippings to be swept up.

Give it a few weeks,

once more green blades will jiggle

their blue, sun applause.

Over a year ago I was asked for my advice on something. The question posed was, “Is it worth it?” At the time I wrote a poem about walking up a hill and eating prawns, but those four lines are lost amongst my usually well filed, carefully dated papers.  I’ve pondered the question occasionally since and recently find it much on my mind. Here then is a freshly cut poem on the theme.

Preview more of my poems in Shining in Brightness, my first book.

You can also add Shining in Brightness as a book on your Facebook profile. Please do so!

My second book, Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys, has received preliminary readings from a few discerning modern boys and some modern girls. Their commentary appears favourable. One reader notes of the poems, “I liked the ones I read.” Another notes, “Emily is kind. Emily is patient… Emily asks for us to pay attention for a short while.” This second volume is due out by the end of this month.

I also tweet as @BeadedQuill. I’d be delighted if you would follow me.

Your greatest treasures

in actions and thoughts

are how much, how gently

and how gracefully

you let silent persimmons

fall into your lap.

I’ve written about fruit again. (During the summer I wrote “Summermelon” and “Pakistan’s Gold” – An Ode to a Golden Mango.) I’ve once again also turned to life instructions and direction. When I sat down to write the poem for this blog post, I didn’t deliberately decide on these themes. Initially I was writing about a photocopier technician, then a wedding that didn’t happen and finally I was grappling with a poem about ordinary people and chocolate cake. All these poems remain works in progress. They may yet make it onto the blog.

Preview Shining in Brightness my first book of poems here. Two essays on my writing process are also included. 

My book’s cover features the work of Norfolk-based artist Nicola Slattery. Nicola has generously provided the cover for my forthcoming volume, “Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys”. Watch this space for a sneak preview of the first print! (Sign up via the “Follow” option on the tab in the far right corner of the screen.)

I tweet as @BeadedQuill. Please follow me.