Poet's Corner

Good morning.

The sun is shining outside on a lovely autumn morning and I've almost done my NaNoWriMo word count for the day.  So before I dash off and do something vaguely resembling housework, here are a couple of poems I presented at 100 Poets.

Our programme began with a warm-up and after that, we launched into 'If...', which has been polled as the nations's favourite.  Alternatives were permitted and so I wrote my own version just for the event.  It was quite popular and was picked up and performed by other poets, too, which was very flattering...

If, Revisited…

If you can scan a line when all about you

Are losing verse, and blaming it on you

If you can trust your muse when critics doubt you

(but then decide to change a word, or two…)

If you can rhyme and not be tired of rhyming,

Or being published once, don’t fantasize

Or get rejection slips, and do not mind them

And yet don’t stroke your ego to the skies…

If you make verse and not make verse your master

Use assonance, but not make vowels your aim

If you can write a villanelle or sonnet

But not make those constructions sound the same

If you can bear to hear the words you’ve written

Misquoted so it sounds like breaking rules

Or create consonance so bad it’s broken

And stop, remake it so it sounds quite cool…

If you can Open Mike and stay cold-sober

Quote Homer, Shakespeare, Joyce to name a few

If you can face the blankness of the paper

And cover it with words both fresh and new

If you can fill the unforgiving sonnet

With fourteen lines of florid verse full run

If this 100 Poets has your name on it

Then just make sure you make them scan, old chum…

The next act of the performance was Victory and Defeat, but the poem I want to give you next came from the section after that, 'Get Physical', and I presented two poems, one which I wrote a very long time ago and one I wrote specifically for the event.  In part, it was inspired by the work of Mandy Long, a sculptor whose 'On The Edge' exhibition features ceramic figures in dynamic poses; many of the pieces represent rugby players and Mandy manages to capture the power and grace of these big, strong chaps with eloquence and style. And I wish I had the money to buy a few...

Give Blood – Play Rugby

Animal eyes engage.

Whistled signal and the rush

The dance and slam begins. Throw and catch, run

And run again. Crash

And tackle, smashed bodies

Body armour slabs of muscle, invincible, outside.

Within a feral something stalks

in mud and sweat and blood;

Determination

Not to fall, to be

Less frail.

Slams of exoskeleton.   Meet

And grapple; fingers, hands, reach out and snatch.

Slide.  The ground

Tears like tissue. The ball passed.  Dancer’s grace

And bouncer’s bulk

Meet and meld and reach.

Nosing down, the ball touches

Across the line. The crowd roars,

‘TRY!!!’

Can’t they see, they are?

Poetry is sometimes an acquired taste, so I'll leave it at that for the moment.  I may well pop a couple more into the next post.

Feedback always welcome.