What makes you write poetry? | The Economist

https://www.economist.com/prospero/2012/03/05/what-makes-you-write-poetry

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HAS been a good year for John Burnside. He scooped up both the Forward prize and the T.S. Eliot prize for his 12th collection of poems, “Black Cat Bone”, having been shortlisted for both twice before. Writing strange, luminous and short poems, he revels in the obscurity of the everyday. His poetry frequently captures that in-between state, “the fit between sleep and waking”.

Alongside writing poetry, he has published a novel and two memoirs (“A Lie About My Father” and “Waking Up In Toytown”). The first describes his gruelling childhood growing up in the early 1960s with a hard-drinking, abusive father in a Catholic household in sectarian Scotland; the second considers his own descent into psychosis through drugs and alcohol, before he started to write.

What makes you write poetry, and when did you start?

I started quite late in writing poetry as a serious pursuit, as opposed to playing a mildly diverting game. It seems a long time though. What makes me write is the rhythm of the world around me—the rhythms of the language, of course, but also of the land, the wind, the sky, other lives. Before the words comes the rhythm—that seems to me to be of the essence.

Are you considered too old to write poetry?

https://www.happenstancepress.com/index.php/blog/entry/too-old-to-start-writing-poetry

Keats was dead at 25, Shelley at 29, Dylan Thomas at  39, Sylvia Plath at 30. Chatterton didn’t even make it to 18.

But Fergus Allen, who reads at this year’s Aldeburgh Poetry Festival, didn’t start the poetry business seriously until after retirement. His first book-length collection was published when he was 72.  There have been three others since, and now, at ninety, he  will be conversation with Peter Blegvad about all of this in November.

How to start writing poetry when you are 50+

https://www.silverandsmart.com/how-to-start-writing-poetry-after-age-50/

What Are Some Reasons to Write Poetry?

Writing poetry is primarily a way to express your feelings and thoughts. Whether it’s about a person, place, or thing, poetry allows you to communicate what you feel uniquely. But that’s not the only reason. Other reasons to consider poetry include:

  1. You can write poetry about anything you want, including your life experiences or things you’ve always wanted to say but haven’t had the opportunity to say before.
  2. It’s a good way to keep your mind active and engaged as you age; this can help with memory retention and even prevent Alzheimer’s disease in later years.
  3. You don’t have to be an expert in art or literature to write well; it’s all about using your imagination.
  4. There are no rules when writing poetry—so feel free to experiment with different styles and techniques if you’re stuck.

What Are Different Types of Poetry to Consider?

The truth is that different poems appeal to different people, old or young. Some poems will resonate more with you in writing, while others will not. The reason for this can be structure, form, or style. If you’re thinking about the best types of poetry to try out for a start, the following should do it:

  1. Freeverse: Free verse is poetry without rhyming words, syllable counts, or line breaks. It’s about letting your thoughts flow freely and expressing yourself through verse in a natural and unforced way. Examples of free verse poems are ‘America‘ by Walt Whitman and ‘Lady Lazarus‘ by Sylvia Plath.
  2. Sonnets: A sonnet is …………,

Between the lines, the eyes

The sexual smile the birth and death of kings,

The Plathian axe, the tree, and how it rings

The horse unsaddled throws  its mistress off

The ending of a life, the voice that scoffs.

Even the saddest man can tell good lies

How a woman’s beauty hurt men’s eyes.

The hint of promise paralysed his smile

The sexual smile the enemy,the child

1939:Last train out of Warsaw

Photo by Josh Hild on Pexels.com

Elena,a baby wrapped in woollen clothes.
On the last train,Warsaw to Moscow,
[ change Niegoreloje.]
1939.Father,mother,brother
You passed through the Arctic Wastes of life.
Still as if travelling on a train
To an impossibly far destination.
As you left the German Army crashed into Warsaw
Lost,your aunts
Your cousins.
Your culture.
How does God select the damned?
You had your own baby,here in England,
Not lost like all those others.
Your father died by his own hand,
The hand of history;
The fingers twitching,
Not sure where to point.
Then settling into frozen grief
A sculpture only your mother saw.
You saw too,Elena.
You always saw,though you can’t remember;
The long journey, your mother’s breast,
Your father’s silence.
Only the dead know that silence.
Only the dead weep
With the rocks and stones .
And the ice in each eye
Fell like snow down your cheeks
As you held your own infant.
Warsaw to Moscow,
Moscow to Jerusalem.
Always journeying
Looking for what they can never find:
The home they left behind
The presence of the dead
Lying in gaunt heaps
Like rubbish
Your aunts, Elena.
Your cousins.
You never knew them.
But there’s a hole in your mind
Through which the Polish wind forever blow

I lost all my illusions, and then I lost some more

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Photo by Katherine 2016

 

When I saw you  in that cafe I  knew you would be mine.
You were handsome, smiling,funny..you were specially designed.
You looked like men I’d only dreamed about in all those years before.
I’m so broke up,so broke up;we’re not lovers  anymore.

I saw you on the station as I came from out the train.
You wore an old green parka to protect you from the rain.
I wanted to be one with you,to make a Love entire;
What you did was give me pain I  should not have endured

You walked away so quickly,I could not see you long.
I wish I had a big guitar to draw you back with song.
I looked at where you disappeared;what love has loss revealed?
I wish I could just lay down on this floor and keep my face concealed.

Railway stations sadden me, for I know we’ll never meet .
I won’t cry more ,the tears are running to my feet.
I walk fast looking straight ahead past that entrance gate,
I pretend that you have missed your train,that work was running late.

I count from one and  two to a thousand and many more–
But I know for sure it’s far too late; you have closed that heavy door.
You are hiding in a dungeon
You are covered with white steel
But I know you had a heart and you must surely feel.

I lost all my illusions, and then I lost some more.
I wish I could lay down and die, right here on this floor

The one change that didn’t work: I pounded through exercise classes – until my doctor prescribed rest

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2023/jan/26/the-one-change-that-didnt-work-i-exercised-obsessively-to-wipe-out-my-grief-but-my-body-rebelled?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

The one change that didn’t work: I decluttered my house – then began buying back my belongings

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2023/jan/25/the-one-change-that-didnt-work-my-radical-decluttering-turned-into-terrible-regret?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

His face endures

The face that was familiar is no more

 Though in my dreaming mind his face endures

My heart is not beloved as before.

All alone I’m weary and I’m sore.

I throw myself to earth, the widow’s cure

Would I were a witch. I’d light the fire.

And end my life upon a widow’s pyre

I have no child, my empty womb is bare.

In my dreams he lives, I am a liar

The one change that didn’t work: I started baking sourdough – and discovered my obsessive side

https://www.theguardian.com/food/2023/jan/25/the-one-change-that-didnt-work-sourdough-baking-left-me-frustrated-obsessive-and-covered-in-flour?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

Clingfilmology

By Katherine copyright

Cartology,,…….how to manage a horse and cart.

Cynicism,,… cultivating cynics.

Pointillism,,….. giving meaning to even very small things.

Logisticalist,,…..imitating logic.

Impressionism,……looking better than you ought to

Premodernism,…,a forward looking philosophy

Fictionalology,,,. The science of invention

Maternalism,….the love of people of all kinds

If I am sent to Heaven will I feel like Hell?

I’m feeling very lonely,I’m feeling very sad
The cat has scratched my ankles ; I think I have gone mad.

I have to face reality,I have to see it all.
I must not use denial,I have no bloody gall
I must not yet re-marry,I must not go to bed
Apparently ,it’s sinful,though my old man is dead.
There seem to be some rules,though they are all unsaid
Who will keep on watching me and see what books I’ve read.
I can’t read about doctors,I can’t watch Casualty
I can’t bear hearing sirens,I wonder where to flee.
I can’t read no real fiction and I can’t draw no art
I only took the oil paint to spread it on my heart.
I’m going to ask the doctor if I can have it out
It’s made me feel so dreadful, he cannot have a doubt.
Surely some new batteries would serve me in its stead.
Hearts are such a problem even when you’re dead.
Some folk have them pickled and some have them in jars
I’ll keep it on the Printer or in my sister’s car.
No-one will offend me for I will never feel
Just one tiny problem,will I still be real?
If I am sent to Heaven will I feel like Hell?
What a bloody nuisance, nobody will tell.

I

How can you be the best possible parent, lover, friend, citizen or tourist? Here’s what the experts think

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2022/dec/31/how-can-you-be-the-best-parent-lover-friend-citizen?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

The Silence in the middle of a wood

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Mary woke up as she heard a strange noise.Except it was not as she had overslept.
She put her head out of the window where a young man was standing by the wall
You can leave their parcel here, she cried in her muffled shriek
I have come to collect one, he responded
But they are not at home, she informed him.They have emigrated
No wonder, the man said.I’d like to escape from Dominic Cummings
Has he captured you?
He damages my soul and God is angry
Let’s leave God to one side.I know how you feel, I think
Thank you very much.God will remember
Mary sat in bed and wondered where Stan was.Suddenly she realised he was dead.
Emile came in purring loudly
Emile, is Stan really dead?
I think so although sometimes I think I see him in the kitchen with his Robert Carrier cookbook
Tears came into Mary’s eyes remembering all the meals Stan cooked
He would be horrified if he saw her eat a frozen shepherd’s pie or macaroni cheese straight from a tin
At least I still use Earl Grey Tea, she thought intelligently
Mary drank tea from a large blue mug; in fact it was half a pint of tea. She looked at her phone to see if any emails from her friends were there but none of her friends had written to her which could hardly be surprising as they had all written to her the day before
She saw a letter from British Gas offering her help during the lockdown but she didn’t use gas anymore. if they had been more compassionate when she was having trouble with her boiler she might still be using it but she had decided that gas was a bad thing; it made her think about horrible things like Sylvia Plath and the Holocaust
On the other hand electricity has also been used to harm people and kill them in the United States ;what was the answer?
The best thing is to get up at once. she said and read The Guardian the Times, Independent newspaper The Telegraph and the London Review of Books.By the time she has read all of those who would go back to bed?
Only a sex addict and has she had no husband that was impossible
After all, who prefers a plastic vibrator to a loving man or woman?Mary decided 4 Weetabix and some milk would make a very nice breakfast
Where is my breakfast, called Emile louder?
Oh dear I am very sorry , would you like some kippers for your breakfast
Thank you, Mother
How many times do I have to tell you that I am not your mother; I am human and you are a cat
But you are my mother in a metaphorical sense :you look after me, you feed me, you bath me
On the other hand I sleep on your bed and if I was your son you would not want me to sleep on your bed would you since I’m 18 years old?
No, it might look like incest Mary replied humorously but would an 18-year old youth be attracted to an older lady
Don’t ask me, he said, I am just a cat
I would not know my own mother if I met her and if she was willing I might even mate with her without knowing that she was my mother. God is very kind to animals in some ways but on the other hand why does he let people hunt and kill for fun?
Well he would not tell Job nor his so-called comforters so I don’t know whether he’s going to tell me; if he did tell me I might not be able to understand
Why not, said the cat?
When we don’t know what language God speaks how can we talk to him?
Only by paying attention in the Silence in the middle of a wood or a cathedral as long as it was not full of tourists and and dogs
Are dogs allowed to go inside a cathedral?
I don’t know said Mary I have never thought about it before but I would imagine they are banned because they might start Barking at the wrong moment
I could go to church, Emile cried
Do you want to go to church , Mary asked him
If there is nothing else to do, I will go to church, he mewed
That is not the right attitude, she told him, God is more important than anything else at all
How do you know God is not here in the house
Yes he is; he is everywhere but we can’t see him except in the eye of a child or or the smile of an old man when he is going to die peacefully in the arms of his wife
And what about the wife? the cat pondered<Shall I have to hold you in my arms so that I can see God in your smile as you pass away
Oh dear me said Mary. I never thought of that I am too big to go into your arms. I can go on a diet and save money by only eating half a tin of Heinz macaroni cheese for my supper and half a tin of vegetable soup for my lunch
It is impossible, the cat told her, because even if I eat a lot my legs will never go any longer and as mathematician you should be able to see that you would have to become as small as a tiny baby before I could put my arms around you
The end of a wonderful dream,sighed Mary
I’ll have to ask somebody else Dr Patel maybe if I can die in his arms|
It is like the ultimate act of love to allow someone to die in your arms but one can’t do it too often as it is too emotionally and spiritually demanding
I agree, mother, the cat told her and now I’m going outside to try and catch you some frogs from the pond next door, goodbye.

To return love for hate—- is it possible?

rock formation
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

What is humor except crossing a boundary?
I wish I were an ivy growing on your wall
I wish I were a berry
Just about to fall
I wish I were a hazelnut
And you would break a tooth
For my name is Sally
and not, and not,not Ruth
Image

Why Am I Worried? You Should Be.

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/11/08/smarter-living/how-to-worry-better.html

But that’s OK! Just getting by and not fully collapsing is more than enough right now. But if you find yourself particularly distracted or stressed out this week, try a 60-second reset, a wonderful tip I learned from friend of Smarter Living Arianna Huffington.

“I use my reset many times a day, it takes 60 seconds,” Ms. Huffington told me. “You basically put together the things that are joy triggers. It could be photos of people you love, pets, quotes, landscapes, music you love, a breathing pace.” In just 60 seconds, she said, you can change your mind-set, adding, “Gratitude is the greatest antidote to stress.”

Kim Jones brings Eliot’s The Waste Land to Dior’s 2023-24 menswear catwalk

https://www.theguardian.com/fashion/2023/jan/20/kim-jones-brings-eliots-the-waste-land-to-diors-2023-24-menswear-catwalk?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

Digital art by blogger Katherine

Do it yourself

Your nail scissors can be sterilised and used to remove the stitches from your surgical wound if you can’t get an appointment with the nurse.

You can use your phone to take photographs of your surgical wound so that you can send them to your doctor to see whether it’s infected or not.

You can also use your phone how to take photographs of your teeth if you break one and are not sure about going to the dentist.

I have tried using a magnet to remove those little metal clips they put on wounds but it doesn’t work. The doctor was not very pleased about it but then when can you see a doctor in the United Kingdom?

Remember if you use a saw to amputate your toe your foot will bleed. It will hurt as well so is it really necessary to do that? If you are diabetic you will probably die very soon so why not hang yourself instead if you are ready to depart and you won’t leave such a mess behind you

Changing your wound dressing | Kent Community Health NHS Foundation Trust

https://www.kentcht.nhs.uk/leaflet/changing-your-wound-dressing/

When the hospital tell you to see the GP on a circuit to get

your dressing changed but you can’t get an appointment with the GP surgery through the nurse

Trust

“All shall be well,and all manner of things shall be well”
St Julian of Norwich

Trust the unknown force that grew you,
From the joining of two cells.
Act of love, of mutual giving,
Created you,a brand new self.

Trust the dark,the unseen aspects
Of the life we all must live.
Trust that there is wisdom elsewhere,
To your emptiness to give.

Wait in patience for the time
When inspiration comes at last
Trust in darkness,silence,lowness.
Opposition forms the cross.

Pain is bearable in lowness,
Like the worm in earth I dwell.
When I look I see the sunrise
And I trust all shall be well.

I have no head for verse

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I have no rest from humour

I am very quite.
I arrested humour
I am growing my own body.
Do you like tripe?
I like tea  in my cups
Off with his dread
What was it I did?
I’ll never tarry again
I don’t like men without arts
What was the silver swan?
Why did the Pope design?
Do you believe rowing to church is  wrong?
Do you still refresh your sins weekly?
Welcome to my  comb.
The toilet is free to the first liar

May we borrow your saw. The see saw?
Do you believe the Nicene read?
Why?