Archives for posts with tag: water

At the elm spring
five birds sat in the trees
hoping that the
coming year is filled
with All is well.

31/12/16

Other poems about the shift to the New Year
A New Room
in the glow of celebration
Clementi Brings in 2013

By Randolph Caldecott (1846-1886) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

By Randolph Caldecott (1846-1886) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

By Daderot (Own work) [Public domain or CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

Photograph of an Edo period work, 18th-19th century Japan by Daderot (Own work) [Public domain or CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

It was very suspicious
the way that whale
rolled over and opened
its mouth for tips,
then set fireworks
to the water gods
from its blowhole.

Whales have featured in my poetry before. Like sluice gates and bears, whales prefigure as a childhood fascination. In my first or second year of school, we learnt about blue whales. They were enormous yet ate such small food with little effort through their sieve-mouths. Either in conjunction with the curriculum topic or with my family I must have visited the South African Natural History Museum where there was (and still is) the large skeleton of a blue whale. Alongside was a booth in which recordings were played of whales in communication. These creatures had a language, which I could not penetrate. I was in awe.

Southern Right whales come into the sheltered bays around Cape Town to calf. Whale watching is a notable annual event. I still think about a particular train journey from Simon’s Town, past Glencairn, when I saw two majestic whales dancing in the ocean and spouting the fireworks from their blowholes.

So it is that whales crop up every now and then in my musing, in my writing and even in my dreams.

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

Alfred Stevens Le Bain

Alfred Stevens, “Le Bain” (1867) courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

In the facecloth
parcel up the little cry. Let it
well with the suds.

With your fingers, with what is left,
crunch up the crystals from the soap dish.
Rub such salt
against forearm, shoulder,
shin and knee skin;
sand out
the rough grains of today.

In the giant bowl of liquid,
soak off the dead lees.
This could be the basin
that dissolves sharp edges.


With poetry above and life advice below, it’s two for one in this post:

“When it’s been one of those days, the best thing left to do is sometimes to have a little cry in the bath. Let the taps run. Slough it off with the bath salt. Parcel up the little cry.

Then dry yourself off and have some cocoa, honey with milk or soya with cinnamon.”

At some other point, I must write an essayette about the bath I had the day after my dad died, Frida Kahlo’s bath painting and the metaphorical salve of bathing. Today, tea and lesson prep calls.

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

Carl Larsson [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Carl Larsson (1853-1919) ( [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Let the line commence
with a word other than
I, the usual post to fence in
paths that buoy and bob in
hand-drawn bows

and curving scythes:
a writer’s promenade.

If I don’t write on lined-paper or have a guiding template sheet behind any blank page on which I write, my sentences will start to bend and curve like rainbows from left to right across the page.

It’s this, along with the tendency to begin a great many thoughts and sentences with “I”, that precipitated today’s poem.

T: @BeadedQuill
F: BeadedQuill
Books by BeadedQuill

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Attribution: Paul Glazzard.

Posted this time last year, “Conversation” is a poem about a balmy summer scene.

Image with thanks to the Old Design Shop, a vintage image treasury.

Trump such sultry sunshine
with a screen? That will not stem creation.
The words set out for basting in the warmth; 
crossed the bridge at Embankment station. 

The Thames and sequins on its skirt, 
scintilled in summer brio. 
The words, now on the move, 
snacked on radishes a frio.


Thursday, 3rd July was such a balmy day in London that it seemed a pity to spend it spent at a screen attempting to rearrange words. Plus I had a number of engagements to follow up: from N2 to WC2 to N1 to SE16. The words certainly ended up traversing London town. These lines above are an account of their wanderings.

A little linguistic poetic license is requested for the ending. A chilled radish in Spanish should rather be “los rábanos refrigerados” (if my basic abilities in the language and a bit of Googling are close). However, a poem’s needs call for adjusted forms. Kindly indulge.

(Oh yes, and I sort of invented that word scintilled. Such word creation is considered a no-no in some creative writing circles, but I’ve gone and done it anyway.)

(Ah yes, and that isn’t an error: it’s meant to be ‘basting’.)


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

Poems about spiders

Image thanks to Wikimedia Commons, contributor: Siebrand. This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published (or registered with the U.S. Copyright Office) before January 1, 1923.

Click on the image above to read these two poems from the archive.

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.

“Mollusca: Octopus, squid, nautilus, and cuttlefish” from The Animal Kingdom, Baron Cuvier, 1834. Image courtesy of Biomedical Ephemera.

From one side of the pool
to the other,
pacific waves cursive;
held by rocks hard-backed in blue.
A visiting squid squirts ink 
fresh and black.
A pseudomorph arrows from the nib.

26/06/2014


For Christmas ‘Secret Santa’ gave me a dinky, frosted pink fountain pen. It’s small; probably about 8cm in length. Its micro-cartridges only last about a dozen A4 pages, which spans two to three days of writing in my world. The half-a-dozen cartridges that came with the pen were used up long ago. I have been without ink for nearly six months, so today I decided to re-stock.

For £1,99 I bought a bag of 50 cartridges from Ryman’s on the Strand. This is the first poem from that bag of ink-filled plastic bullets now sitting on my desk.

Here’s a link about the ink-squirting of cephalopods. I’ll leave you to peer into the metaphorical rock pool and make sense of the squid and its pseudomorph.

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

Nos Liberavit

“the maiden’s voice soars
and plunges
as she elongates the siren call”

Image “Midnight Harp” courtesy of Esmira