Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Verse First ~ Patterns




Welcome to Verse First, where simple notions prompt amazing poems. 



Today's notion?


PATTERNS

In simplest terms, a pattern is the repetition of particular objects, like dots, stripes or zig-zags, the cells of a honeycomb or ribs of a palm frond. Millions of patterns occur in nature.  Think Fibonacci!

In humans and other animals, a pattern is an repetitive, predictable type of behavior. Habits develop from patterns, repeated. 

Mathematics is sometimes called the science of patterns; and computer programming is based on reusable, repeatable lines of code - patterns. 

A pattern can be a template or a guide used to recreate an existing item, like an architectural element, an item of clothing or a piece of furniture.


Patterns. Look around. Look inside. They're everywhere. Now write about one!

Ribbed Pattern in Mediterranean Fan Palm

Child's Magnetic Patterning Kit

Patterns for Period Costumes
Take this information, or one of the images above and create a poem. Post your work on your website, then use Mr. Linky to share it with us. Feel free to leave a comment below, and be sure to support your fellow poets by visiting and commenting. 

Looking forward to reading some amazing poems! ~ Kim





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Monday, February 25, 2013

Life of a Poet~Panchali


Hold onto your hats, kids, as today you are in for a very special treat. We are making a whirlwind tour of Kolkata, India. Panchali, the wonderful poet who writes at  PanchaliBolchi, is allowing us to visit her amazing family, and she is going to point out some of her favorite sights in the City of Joy. I have always loved India, and Africa, (where Panchali also lived for some years), as they feel, to me, like the ancient heartbeat of humankind. Come sit by me. Panchali’s “man Friday” is bringing in hot chai tea, there is the smell of incense in the air, and the women, arrayed in the most beautiful of saris, are beaming with happiness.



Poets United: Panchali, I am so excited to be visiting with you! I have always adored India.



Sunday, February 24, 2013

Poetry Pantry #139


Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada


The Poetry Pantry
2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Greetings, Poets!  

I hope you all had a good and creative week.  I am happy to see that here, in the northern hemisphere, days are getting longer once more!  I am beginning to believe that spring will come once again. 

One highlight of my week was receiving a gift of four autographed (to me personally) poetry books in the mail from a friend of mine who attended a poetry festival in Florida!  I have been savoring them poem by poem.  I don't know about you, but when I read poetry it inspires me....as I can learn from the topics and from the style of poetry.  Do you have a highlight of your week to share in comments? (Please DO comment...even just to say hello!)

 I am looking forward to seeing what each of you is sharing in the Pantry  today!  Something old or something new! I love to see your familiar faces here and also love to see new faces. 

This is one of my favorite spaces to post during the poetic week, and I post in many.  I hope you look forward to it too.  Link your ONE poem.  Then visit other poets. That is part of the fun as well.  We really like it if you link back to Poets United too, so we spread the Poetry Pantry word in the blogosphere.

Come back a few times on Sunday and Monday to see what's new.  Visit some strangers, and they will become new friends!

A few individuals have been sharing Facebook links. Please don't. Truly, this site is meant for posting blog links....not meant as ways to give someone's Facebook site some extra 'hits.'  (And the FB linkers don't really seem to participate anyway beyond posting their links....) 

But, if you are on Facebook, look for us there as well. Join our site.  It is one more way to stay in touch!

And now...here is the procedure, for those who are new here:  Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to a poem in your blog. The link will close Monday at 12:00 p.m. (CDT), but you can still visit the links of those who have posted them.


There are 3 simple rules:

1. Link only 1 poem per week.  If you link more than one, anything after #1 will be removed.

2. Please visit several other poems linked here when you link to yours. Please
don't just link and run, waiting for others to visit you. 

 

3. Leave a comment after you have posted
your link.  I find that people who leave comments tend to be more participatory.  They wish to be part of the community.  A little of this goes a long way.  It feels good for all.





Friday, February 22, 2013

I Wish I'd Written This

Oppression 

By Langston Hughes (1902-1967)

Now dreams
Are not available
To the dreamers,
Nor songs
To the singers.
In some lands
Dark night
And cold steel
Prevail
But the dream
Will come back,
And the song
Break
Its jail.

Hughes's biography at PoemHunter.com describes him as 'an American poet, social activist, novelist, playwright, and columnist' and says, 'He was one of the earliest innovators of the then-new literary art form jazz poetry. Hughes is best known for his work during the Harlem Renaissance. He famously wrote about the period that "Harlem was in vogue." '
I wouldn't know about that last, not being intimately acquainted with New York history;* but it seems to me he wrote of the oppression for which this poem is titled and of the longing for justice and freedom. He did so in simple, direct, powerful, often beautiful language. 

He was a master of rhyme, which he habitually used. Sometimes the rhymes seem obvious, sometimes not so much, but never forced or obtrusive. 
His poems were always sad, and sometimes bitter, angry or defiant — with reason, when you consider the subject matter of intolerance and suffering. This particular poem is sad like the rest, and the message unequivocal, yet it carries a strong assurance of hope. And although he had issues with the United States, his country did honour him by putting his face on a stamp, as you see!

At PoemHunter you will find 93 more of his poems. They tend to be short, so it's not an arduous read. And there are books galore at his Amazon page.

* I belatedly discover that Harlem Renaissance was a cultural movement, involving jazz poetry among other things.



Poems and photos used in ‘I Wish I’d Written This’ remain the property of the copyright holders (usually their authors).

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Verse First ~ Fibonacci Poems



Welcome to Verse First, where simple notions prompt amazing poems. 
Today's notion?

THE FIBONACCI NUMBER SEQUENCE

Fibonacci poetry is a literary form based on the Fibonacci number sequence. The sequence begins like this: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21. In order to find the next number in the sequence, you add the two preceding numbers. The sum of these two is the next number, which then is added to the one before it to get to the next number, and so on.

This is how it works:
1 + 0 = 1
1 + 1 = 2
2 + 1 = 3
3 + 2 = 5
5 + 3 = 8
8 + 5 = 13
13 + 8 = 21
21 + 13 = 34...

The Fibonacci sequence appears often in nature as the underlying form of growing patterns. I've shared three example photos; to learn more check out this post at Math Is Fun or this one at The Golden Number.


Photo © Tiago Rodrigues Serra

Photo © kasia-aus

Fibonacci poems can embody the sequence in syllables or in words; and the poem can be any length, so long as each line's count equals the sum of the two preceding lines. Obviously, this gets a little cumbersome past 13 or 21, but hey... do what ya gotta do!

If you're still stumped, here are a couple of Fibonacci's I wrote a long time ago:




Now get busy! Write your Fibonacci masterpiece.  Post the poem on your website, then use Mr. Linky to share it with us. I invite you to leave a comment below, and to enjoy the efforts of your fellow poets by visiting and commenting on one another's work. 

Looking forward to reading some amazing poems! ~ Kim




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Monday, February 18, 2013

Life of a Poet ~ N.D.Mitchell

Kids, I'm sure you've noticed this young Scottish poet posting at Poets United. N.D. Mitchell writes at The ND's Nigh. He is a lovely soul, and lives in the most spectacularly beautiful landscape. Come along, as we zip across the Atlantic (brrrrr, it's cold in the East), and shuttle from Glasgow to David's village. With luck, we'll be in time for tea.





Poets United: David, so cool to talk to a poet in Scotland! First, a goofy question: your blog title - a spoof on the Mayan prophecy? Now that we survived 2012, does it require a disclaimer?





Saturday, February 16, 2013

Poetry Pantry - #138


Cape York Meteorite - Wikimedia Commons
Copenhagen, Denmark

 
The Poetry Pantry
2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Greetings, Poets!  

Wonderful to see you this Sunday again. At least none of us were hit by the meteorite, and the asteroid passed by earth safely.  Mardi Gras is behind us. And the Carnival Triumph is now back safely in port.  Life goes on.....

 I am looking forward to seeing what each of you is sharing in the Pantry  today!  Something old or something new! I love to see your familiar faces here and also love to see new faces.  Please leave a comment for us below when you link.  (I will leave mine in the morning, as I will be asleep when the Pantry - and my link - goes live.)  Tell us something about your poem, your week, your weather, or whatever.

This is one of my favorite spaces to post during the poetic week, and I post in many.  I hope you look forward to it too.  Link your ONE poem.  Then visit other poets. That is part of the fun as well.  We really like it if you link back to Poets United too, so we spread the Poetry Pantry word in the blogosphere.

Come back a few times on Sunday and Monday to see what's new.  Visit some strangers, and they will become new friends!

A few individuals have been sharing Facebook links. Please don't. Truly, this site is meant for posting blog links....not meant as ways to give someone's Facebook site some extra 'hits.'  (And the FB linkers don't really seem to participate anyway beyond posting their links....) 

But, if you are on Facebook, look for us there as well. Join our site.  It is one more way to stay in touch!

And now...here is the procedure:  Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to a poem in your blog. The link will close Monday at 12:00 p.m. (CDT), but you can still visit the links of those who have posted them.


There are 3 simple rules:

1. Link only 1 poem per week.  If you link more than one, anything after #1 will be removed.

2. Please visit several other poems linked here when you link to yours. Please
don't just link and run, waiting for others to visit you. 
3. Leave a comment after you have posted
your link.  I find that people who leave comments tend to be more participatory.  They wish to be part of the community.  A little of this goes a long way.  It feels good for all.





Friday, February 15, 2013

I Wish I'd Written This


Tilting Wind

a man is walking across afternoon sun
drifting across a desert of many voices and things he should not see
the voice of a woman that is camel skin in the wind
the face of a man who is carrying a spoonful of freshwater in a coconut
the touch of a woman like oil from a palm tree
burmese tea cinnamon bark
coral reef hawaiian lava flow
mudbat frogspawn canticle of fear
he is in a rush, his hands are sweating
he is a veteran of war he is a sick dog in a barn
he is a man in a helicopter a man with a flashlight in the dark
he is a photographer of death he is a bloody towel
he is the beard of a goat a chicken bone
the sirocco news the gunclip slung under his naked arm
he is the skin of a lizard he is the broken cheek of a chinadoll
he is armor plate he is tractor shed he is chevrolet
he is a bluebird talk radio egg fallen out of a tree
he is safari hat tooth of lion tail of rat
he is short supply short of supply
a short story by norman mailer
a male stripper named norman rockwell
he is a college president
a collage artist
thinking about nothing
the sun cuts so deep the sun
cuts so deep – this is his tilting sand
this is the sniper's hole, the sunlight snipping
a hole through the magazine of his life



I first encountered NewYork poet and musician George Wallace on MySpace a few years ago. In those days there was quite a community of poets there — not so structured a community as this one, but we found each other and started reading each other's work and commenting ... not so unlike Poets United, at that. (Others I've already included here are Lori Williams, Rob Chrysler, Peter Doyle. The calibre was high!)

His poetry amazed me — such an outpouring of seemingly spontaneous, stream-of-consciousness words. But look again. It is very controlled and crafted. In the poem above, see how he leads us inevitably to the unexpected, quietly shocking conclusion. 

Most of us moved away from MySpace when changes were made and it stopped working so well for us. Some of us left our poetry blogs there as archives though, and George was one. I'm not sure if the public can get in, but it's worth a try, at this link. As you will see in the Wikipedia entry which I've linked to his name, he has long been an organiser of poetry events, and you'll come across old promotions for some on his MySpace blog. Scroll down a little way to find the poems. 

He edits an online magazine called Poetry Bay (which is archived and distributed worldwide by Stanford University) and another with a regional emphasis, Long Island Quarterly. And then there's Polarity eMagazine, 'an online magazine of New American Bohemian literature'. From 2003 to 2005 he was Suffolk County, Long Island's first poet laureate, and from 2011 to 2012 he was named as Walt Whitman Birthplace Writer in Residence. He is a lecturer at Pace University in Lower Manhattan, and he travels to perform his work in both America and Europe.

His publisher, Three Rooms Press, says: 

George Wallace (AB, MPH, MFA) is an award winning poet and journalist from New York who has performed his work across America and in Europe. Author of Poppin’ Johnny (Three Rooms Press, 2009) and twenty-five chapbooks of poetry ... A former Peace Corps Volunteer, USAF Medical Officer and Community Health Organizer, he is winner of the CW Post Poetry Prize and the Poetry Kit Best Book award. With Oklahoma poet laureate Carol Hamilton he co-founded the Woody Guthrie Poets, and was named a “Next Generation Beat” by the Lowell Celebrates Kerouac festival committee.

You can find his poems online here, here and here — and in other places too, if you Google 'George Wallace poet'. He has published 25 chapbooks of poetry (so far) and a longer volume, Poppin' Johnny, which is reviewed here and can be bought on Amazon. An earlier book, Burn My Heart in Wet Sand (2004) is also available on Amazon. He blogs at George Wallace PoemTrain, where you can buy several of his other titles.

A great supporter of other poets, he hosts them reading their work at poetryvlog.com.



Poems and photos used in ‘I Wish I’d Written This’ remain the property of the copyright holders (usually their authors).

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Verse First ~ Committed






Welcome to Verse First, where simple notions prompt amazing poems. 

Today's notion?

COMMITTED

And I'm telling you right up front, fellow poets - this prompt  comes from a very personal place. Today is my wedding anniversary. The Good Husband and I have been married for 32 years, an exclusive couple for 37. I know about long-term commitment.

On a completely different note, I've had the difficult responsibility of admitting a loved one to the psychiatric ward in order to avoid looming disaster. From this perspective, I know more than I ever wanted to know. 


Committed. It's a past-tense verb meaning delivered, entrusted or institutionalized, or the act of having perpetrated a crime.  Other synonymous terms include promised, pledged, relegated or delegated.

Committed is also an adjective that describes someone who is dedicated, attached, devoted, faithful, or one who is or has been institutionalized.

Where does your experience take you? Or will you follow the muse and create? Either way, write and post a related poem on your website, then use Mr. Linky to share it with us. Feel free to leave a comment below, and please support the efforts of the community by visiting and commenting on one another's work. 

Looking forward to reading some amazing poems! ~ Kim






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Monday, February 11, 2013

Poem of the Week~by Steven Federle





Kids, Steven Federle is a writing instructor at Solano Community College in Suisun City, California.  
Recently, on his site, Poems of Steven Federle, Steven wrote a remarkable series of poems which seem to be meditations on life, death, loss and hope. I'll include three of them here. They are so beautifully reflective of this human journey we are making. 


To My Wife in Mourning

bright day,still birds, black
spots on the blue sky, slightly
sway in trees, and wait

for winter to stay
or summer at last to come
like you’re waiting for

the pain to stop, death
to give way to the winter
sun’s soft, warm embrace.


Before the Funeral

Mountains
surround me.

Black ridges
scrape the sky.

Raw lacerations.

Gone are the songs of
hopeful winter birds,

gone to the mountains
of the sun.

In the valley of the moon,
bitter desolation.

So incredibly beautiful, reflective of nature's beauty, and of hope, even through times of grief. The fact that Steven wrote all three of these poems in the same week, and that the poem following is so deeply loving, in a time of loss, causes me to tip my hat in profound respect to him, and make this the Poem of the Week:

Lovesong

I will be there always
even though you don't know me.

My life will shine in your eyes,
O child of my child.

With your small, quick breaths
I will breathe again,
and when you cry
my faithful heart will again break.

So look for me in the still, high trees;
the green brilliance of the winking sun
will be our secret signal.

You don't know me, but
your soul, your golden love,
your fears and hopes
I will keep safe in my heart,

and in the soft wind will I sing to you
O beautiful child.
I will guard you
as you play.

Look up at dancing spring clouds
and shout your joy skyward
to me!

Way to be a human being, Steven, and thank you for your participation at Poets United.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Poetry Pantry - #136

Wikimedia Commons


The Poetry Pantry
2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Greetings, Poets!   Wonderful to see you this Sunday again. Some of you might have been hit by a major blizzard this week. Beautiful, but definitely a challenge to live through.  

 I am looking forward to seeing what each of you is sharing in the Pantry  today!  Something old or something new!

This is one of my favorite spaces to post during the poetic week.  I hope you look forward to it too.  Link your poem.  Then visit other poets. That is part of the fun as well.  We really like it if you link back to Poets United too, so we spread the Poetry Pantry word in the blogosphere.

And, as always, please leave a comment in the comment section for us...and if you are an early poster, perhaps check back later and see what others have said! 

Also, if you are on Facebook, look for us there as well. Join our site.  It is one more way to stay in touch!

And now...here is the procedure:  Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to a poem in your blog. The link will close Monday at 12:00 p.m. (CDT), but you can still visit the links of those who have posted them.


There are 3 simple rules:

1. Link only 1 poem per week.  If you link more than one, anything after #1 will be removed.

2. Please visit several other poems linked here when you link to yours. Please
don't just link and run, waiting for others to visit you. 
3. Leave a comment after you have posted
your link.  I find that people who leave comments tend to be more participatory.  They wish to be part of the community.  A little of this goes a long way.  It feels good for all.




Saturday, February 9, 2013

Classic Poetry ~ "Warning and Reply" by Emily Brontë

Emily Brontë, 1818-1848
A few weeks back we featured Charlotte Brontë here in Classic Poetry, and referenced her sisters Anne and Emily. As you may remember, all three women achieved impressive literary heights before they died in their thirties. And yes... poor pun was intended, because Emily, an oft-published poet called both independent and opinionated, is most remembered for her novel Wuthering Heights. Having attended to five members of her immediate family through illness and death, Emily often wrote of these topics. Warning and Reply is one such dedicated piece.

Warning and Reply


In the earth--the earth--thou shalt be laid,
A grey stone standing over thee;
Black mould beneath thee spread,
And black mould to cover thee.

"Well--there is rest there,
So fast come thy prophecy;
The time when my sunny hair
Shall with grass roots entwined be."

But cold--cold is that resting-place,
Shut out from joy and liberty,
And all who loved thy living face
Will shrink from it shudderingly,

"Not so. HERE the world is chill,
And sworn friends fall from me:
But THERE--they will own me still,
And prize my memory."

Farewell, then, all that love,
All that deep sympathy:
Sleep on: Heaven laughs above,
Earth never misses thee.

Turf-sod and tombstone drear
Part human company;
One heart breaks only--here,
But that heart was worthy thee!

Friday, February 8, 2013

I Wish I'd Written This

Late Fragment
By Raymond Carver (1938 - 1988)

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.


A simple yet powerful statement of that which, I believe, we all want. May we all achieve it!

Raymond Carver was best known as a short story writer, in the style known as dirty realism, but I am much fonder of his poetry.

At this link is a wonderful video about his life, with readings of some poems, embedded in an article with copies of others.

The piece above was written when he was dying of lung cancer and was well aware of the fact. It is the last poem in his book A New Path to the Waterfall: Last PoemsWikipedia tells me it is on his tombstone, along with another, Gravy. There are more poems here.

Like his stories, his poems use simple, direct language. They use it in a way that is new and beautiful, that stays with you, e.g.:

The Net

Toward evening the wind changes. Boats
still out on the bay
head for shore. A man with one arm
sits on the keep of a rotting-away
vessel, working on a glimmering net.
He raises his eyes. Pulls at something
with his teeth, and bites hard.
I go past without a word.
Reduced to confusion
by the variableness of this weather,
the importunities of my heart, I keep
going. When I turn back to look
I'm far enough away
to see that man caught in a net.



Poems and photos used in ‘I Wish I’d Written This’ remain the property of the copyright holders (usually their authors).

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Verse First ~ One Word At A Time


Welcome to Verse First, where simple notions prompt amazing poems. 
Today's notion?

BUILD IT UP
One Word At A Time 

Here's how it works:
Your first line has two words. The second line has three. The third, four, and so on. Length is not limited so long as each line contains one more word than the line before it. Write until it's ready! When you're finished, go back and give your poem a one word title. 

Post the poem on your website, then use Mr. Linky to share it with us. Feel free to leave a comment below, and be sure to enjoy the reflective creations of your fellow poets by visiting and commenting on one another's work. 


Looking forward to reading some amazing poems! ~ Kim

Post Script ~ I am out of town for a week and may have limited online access. If I don't connect with your post right away, please know I will do so as soon as possible. ~KN


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Monday, February 4, 2013

Life of a Poet ~ Audrey Howitt

Kids, today we are heading along one of my favorite highways, Highway 1, along the stunningly beautiful West Coast of the USA, to visit our friend, Audrey, whom you will  find  writing regularly at Audrey Howitt Poetry, Alive and Well. Audrey and her family live in the San Francisco area. Smell that fresh sea air, and pull on a sweater. The fog can be chilly. I believe Audrey has the tea on.



Sunday, February 3, 2013

Poetry Pantry #135

Female Koala - Wikimedia Commons

 
The Poetry Pantry
2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Greetings, Poets!   Wonderful to see you this Sunday again. And I am looking forward to seeing what you are bringing to the Pantry to share today!

This is one of my favorite spaces to post during the poetic week.  I hope you look forward to it too.  Link your poem -- either a relatively new one or one from your archives.  Then visit other poets. That is part of the fun as well.  We really like it if you link back to Poets United too!  And hey, linking is only one part, visit one another too.

And, as always, please leave a comment in the comment section for us...and if you are an early poster, perhaps check back later and see what others have said! 

Also, if you are on Facebook, look for us there as well. Join our site.  It is one more way to stay in touch!

And now...here is the procedure:  Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to a poem in your blog. The link will close Monday at 12:00 p.m. (CDT), but you can still visit the links of those who have posted them.


There are 3 simple rules:

1. Link only 1 poem per week.  If you link more than one, anything after #1 will be removed.

2. Please visit several other poems linked here when you link to yours. Please
don't just link and run, waiting for others to visit you. 
3. Leave a comment after you have posted
your link.  I find that people who leave comments tend to be more participatory.  They wish to be part of the community.  A little of this goes a long way.  It feels good for all.





Friday, February 1, 2013

I Wish I'd Written This


That's all he knew


"It is better to travel hopefully than to arrive" said DH Lawrence wittily.
All I can say is, he must never have driven on the Autostrada in Italy.


This is one of my very favourite poems of all time. I like wit, whimsy and unusual rhymes. l like deadpan humour and throwaway lines. 

(Goodness, I've just created a three-line, half-rhymed verse about it! Quite unintentional but not altogether surprising. Michele is inspirational as well as inspired.)

I first met her (online) in her guise as Banana the Poet, during one of Robert Lee Brewer's April Poem A Day challenges at Poetic Asides. Even among the many talented and interesting poets contributing, she stood out. She's irresistibly funny and irreverent. 

Also she's entrepreneurial. She was a pioneer of online self-publishing a few years ago, and you can now find her series of 'Alternative Poetry Books' at Amazon. Please note that she can also write perfectly serious poems, and her books feature both.

What must be her most successful book so far recently topped Amazon's Kindle poetry sales. It is called Fifty Shades of Blue. You guessed it. It's a spoof of a certain best-selling kinky novel. It's a gem, very naughty in all sorts of ways while not being at all obscene — quite a feat. Like its inspiration it's a trilogy, but all in one volume. Innovative as ever, she has also produced a version of the first section illustrated by pictures of her own clay figurines, Fifty Shades of Clay. And there is even an animated version. (Also check out her animated The Real Story of Cinderella at the same link.)

Her non-poetry blog is The Prize Winning Banana Blog. She posts poems at Michele Brenton's Poetry Blog and Banana's Funny Poetry Blog. She is on twitter @banana_the_poet.

If you aren't already acquainted with this inimitable poet, you just gotta catch up!

Now, did you think I was going to leave you with just a two-line sample of her work (no matter how good)? No, I wouldn't do that to you. Here's a beautiful and intriguing prose-poem I'd be proud to have written. It's from her poetry blog; do check out the other treasures there.

Freeze frames
It is a gloriously sunny day, the air hangs lightly with a hint of freshness, still, warm, enfolding but not enclosing. I gaze out over the hillside to watch the goats pick their way up the shrubby, rocky surface towards the feeding troughs at the top edge that the shepherd has filled with water from the tap I know is there.
I remember the day we first walked up there and found in the middle of an otherwise wild landscape, a pipe with a tap which on turning, gushed clear cool water in abundance. It was as incongruous as the lamp-post in the Lantern Wastes of Narnia and typified the fantasy atmosphere of living on a small Greek island.
Here the colours are so clear and the air so clean we can stand at the top of a mountain further in height from the coastal edge and the sea than the top of the Grand Canyon is from its lowest point, and see every detail like a tiny architect’s model.
And the sunny days stretch ahead of us like a never-ending string of translucent pearls on a golden chain.
I hold your hand tightly and you squeeze back. We are together, here and now in this wonderful place, we are happy, contented and safe. I can feel your skin against mine; hear your steady breathing, slow and certain. I know if I rest my head against your chest I will feel that familiar warmth, smell the scent of you and hear your heart again as always. We don’t need to speak, I know your voice so well as I know all of you as well as I know myself.
Better probably, because I have gazed on you so many times, touched you and shared your space – I am inside myself and outside of you, learning your every atom, recording it and keeping it. Do you do the same for me? Even if you do, I know I will be forgotten. It doesn’t bother me.
You have a terrible memory, it is one of the things I learned about you and because it is who you are, I love, accept and remember it.
It is a gloriously sunny day, the air hangs lightly with a hint of freshness, still, warm, enfolding but not enclosing. I gaze out over the hillside to watch the goats pick their way up the shrubby, rocky surface towards the feeding troughs at the top edge that the shepherd has filled with water from the tap I know is there.
Your dark hair has started turning orange in places because of the strength of the sun. I used to have a brown cat and the same thing happened to him.
It is a spring morning. I am sitting in the garden in South Wales. You are curled up on the flagstones at my feet. I am wearing sandals and I can just feel your fur against my bare skin, soft and tickly. You are purring; you are radiating warmth. If I hold you against me the vibration will transfer into me, I know your smell, your frequency.
It is a gloriously sunny day, the air hangs lightly with a hint of freshness, still, warm, enfolding but not enclosing. I gaze out over the hillside to watch the goats pick their way up the shrubby, rocky surface towards the feeding troughs at the top edge that the shepherd has filled with water from the tap I know is there.
I hold your hand tightly and you squeeze back. We are together, here and now in this wonderful place, we are happy, contented and safe. I can feel your skin against mine; hear your steady breathing, slow and certain. I know if I rest my head against your chest I will feel that familiar warmth, smell the scent of you and hear your heart again as always. We don’t need to speak, I know your voice so well as I know all of you as well as I know myself.
You have a terrible memory. We are together, here and now in this wonderful place, we are happy, contented and safe. I know if I rest my head against your chest I will feel that familiar warmth, smell the scent of you and hear your heart again as always.
It is a gloriously sunny day. It is a gloriously sunny day. It is a gloriously sunny day.
I know I will be forgotten. It doesn’t bother me.


Poems and photos used in ‘I Wish I’d Written This’ remain the property of the copyright holders (usually their authors).