Some good stuff and some bad stuff...

The good stuff was, firstly, spending time today with my beautiful daughter and, secondly, having a poem accepted by 'First Edition' to appear in the September magazine. (I believe it is due to hit the streets around 7 September.) I have another poem due out soon, in the October edition of 'Poetry Cornwall'. That being the case, it is probably time I pushed my prose a bit more forcefully. I have made a couple of submissions but, as usual, I am waiting to hear.

The bad stuff? Well, it's Bank Holiday weekend and there will be the usual mass invasion of Tesco. This will be accompanied by a 'love fest' of family feeling that will find its chief expression in an outbreak of barbecues and picnics. Forgive the note of cynicism: it's self-defence. It's hard being on your own through Bank Holiday weekends, almost as painful as Christmas. Believe me, just popping out for a loaf of bread and some cat food can reduce you tears. Last year, at this time... No, that's enough of that. It won't make things better to dwell on them. Soon, it will be Tuesday morning and things won't seem so bad.

Snippet

When the deserts filled with roses
and white towers scrape the sky,
then, may daisies crown a queen
and butterflies not die?

May lovers ever after love
and ships thought lost come sailing home?
And shall the sea give up its dead?
And I not live alone?

Something from Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson is one of my best-loved writers and this poem, although not widely known or very much anthologised, has long been one of my favourites. I think it communicates so much of her intensity of feeling and her profound sense of loss; however, here she also shows her strength and her and independence of spirit. Remarkably, these few lines accomplish all that with a wry sense of humour and the lightest of touches. Every time I read it, I feel I know exactly what she means.

1755

To make a prairie
It takes one clover and one bee,
One clover and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do
If bees are few.

Tangled Bear Finds A New Home

I know this sounds like a story for children but it is not quite what it seems. The hero of the story, Tangled Bear, is a rather old and battered wooden puppet. Sadly, I cannot post here: for one thing, the tale is not finished yet and, for another, I would dearly love to see this one published somewhere. It is, perhaps, a little quirky but sometimes quirky can be good, can't it? My goal is 500 words today and completion within a week. I am rather disorganised, though, in that I tend to have several projects 'in progress' at any one time. My defence is that this enables me to write something whatever mood I am in. I would be interested in knowing whether others have a similar approach or whether they find it more productive to concentrate on one project at a time.

A Timely Resurfacing...

I have been tidying my desk. I came across some of my old notebooks. In one of them, I found these words. They are the words of a very old and very dear friend who, as usual, spoke more wisely than I knew at the time.

Too late for tears;
trees wet with yesterday's rain.
Ideas begin to form
like green buds
and there is the long, slow growth
of the tree still to come -
the roots, the sap rising.
My moment was then;
yours is imminent.

Jenny, February, 2008

Monday, 24th August, 2009

Of Rain, Dogs and Crumble

This morning, Sadie and I took advantage of a rare break in the rain to do a spot of blackberrying. (Sadie likes her blackerries al fresco while I am fond of blackberry and apple crumble.) Since Sadie has quite a sweet tooth, it has always been my practice to give her the ripest berries and to feed them to her at intervals. In this way, she is encouraged to wait patiently rather than pulling at the leash. Today, though, it all proved too much and, the blackberries being plump and juicy, Sadie decided there was nothing for it but to pick the fruit herself. It was endearing and amusing to see what pains she took to sniff her way along the bottom of the hedgrows. Moreover, it was quite remarkable to observe the speed and the delicacy with which she was able to remove the berries once she had located them. It seemed to me that she was able to satisfy her appetite without scratching her nose at all. Indeed, I think it quite likely that, in the course of our walk, I suffered more injury than she did.

In terms of today's writing, little that is new has been accomplished. I have, however, spent some time organising - and sometimes revising - some verses originally written two summers ago. I have repeately promised myself that I will undertake this task but, somehow, I have always been distracted. Perhaps I will post one or two examples.

Sunday, 23rd August, 2009

Another wet and grey day the dreariness of which has been relieved only by an hour in the gym and a visit from my beautiful daughter. Two poems and three stories 'in progress' at the moment. I must finish something this weekend.