TASTING HIS OWN INDECISION

If this poem was made of metal it would be an alloy. It combines a number of unrelated images and transforms them into a coherent [I hope] whole.

SWITCH

unexpectedly half way through the film

the plot twisted to mirror

certain events from his history

he sat in the darkness

once more

tasting his own indecision

looking out of the glass doors of the foyer

he thought the afternoon light had taken on the cast of the sea

the car park a washed-out watercolour

he was silent all the way home

I remember I was sat in a café with a couple of free hours in front of me when an image came  to mind and over a glass of beer resolved into this enigmatic poem. It must chime deeply with me because it appears often on my performing list.

Here's the Wave Pictures with an old song. They have a new album out and are touring in the autumn.

Until next time.  

HOW TO IMPROVE YOUR POETRY- SOME TIPS THAT WORK FOR ME

I came across an old tip sheet yesterday that I used to hand out when I ran poetry workshops. I thought I'd write a special post and share it with you.

• Always have paper and pencil on you for when inspiration strikes. It may not be a fully realised idea, it may be a phrase or an image that holds the kernel of a concept. Whatever it is write it down while it is fresh in your head. 
• When you are writing try to show your idea rather than telling people. Information dumps are not poetry. You are trying to turn personal experience/thought into something universal and unique. 
• Never be too much in love with a phrase or a line. Sometimes you have to remove a line to make the poem work. Put it to one side, it may be useful later.
• Look at your finished draft and scrutinise each word. Ask yourself whether the poem still works if you remove this word and if it does remove it. Pare the superfluous from your work. Make it lean. 
• Read it out aloud as you write, remember poetry is meant to be heard as much as read. How do the lines sound? Do the words flow? If not change them.
• Revise your work. No matter how perfect you think your first draft is revise it and then revise it some more. 
• Get someone you trust to read it aloud so you can hear how it sounds. Your work sounds different when you hear someone else speaking it.
• When you think the poem is complete put it in a drawer and leave it alone for a couple of weeks. Time grants a more critical eye. You will see the faults believe me. 
• Show your work to others. Join a writing group. You will get useful feedback and you will learn how to structure your opinions. Get a writing buddy and offer each other constructive feedback. 
• Read as much as you can. Not just the poets you like but different ones. Read the classics and ask yourself how does this poem work? How has the poet structured the poem? You can learn a lot from each poem you read. 
• Look at different poetic forms [for example villanelles, sonnets, rondels] and try and write your own. Exploring form gives insight into how poems work. Don't be afraid to experiement.
• Lastly, keep on writing. 

I hope this is of use to you, it is the distillation of sixty years writing. Good luck.

THE THREE LAST PEOPLE ON EARTH

Another train poem. This one also featured in the anthology about trains in the south west. It is based on a real life incident. I was collecting my daughter from the station and the train was late.

NIGHT TRAIN

we could be the three last people on this earth

cold as the bone in this post midnight chill

the station is as silent as sleep

then the light

rounds the bend

yawns to a stop

is this the carriage door

the one you will explode out of

telling tales of jostling platform changes

that lead to cheek by jowl overcrowding

no seat until well after Bristol

of course it isn’t

we hug and walk home

I think it is a straight forward account with little embellishment. 

Here's the Roches with The Train.

Until next time.

THIS IS HOW THE WORLD BURNS

We are experiencing a heat wave as I write. Second one of the year so far. We seem incapable of changing our collective behaviour and reducing the amount of carbon dioxide we create. A number of years ago I travelled across France by train, an adventure in itself, on my way to Catalunya. There was a similar situation.

TRAVELLING IN TIMES OF UNUSUAL WEATHER

I had expected more delays

but the trains ran through the heatwave

slowed only by a series of failed signals

we were handed

plastic bottles of warm water

until the supply ran out

the heat in the final station

stole the sweat from our skin

this is how the world burns

This is a simple, factual poem that I hope delivers the punch in its final line. 

I've been listening to Anna Ternheim a lot recently. Here's Caroline.

Until next time.

PRACTICE WHAT IT PREACHES

Today's poem appeared in an anthology of railway poems. I'd started it about fifteen years earlier but had put it to one side because it just wasn't working. Distance did grant perception though and I was able to make it work eventually.

LET THE TRAIN TAKE THE STRAIN

it is clear the train company worries about me

this is why they advised me [twice] to hold the handrail

at all times when I climb the station stairs

counselled that I must carry water on my journey

as this weekend’s weather will be unseasonably hot

and suggest should I feel unwell

then I must disembark at the next station

as this will make it easier for them to aid me

obviously they have heard that I forget things these days

and so repeatedly remind me

in these times of heightened tension

not to leave my luggage unattended

because if I do the security service may damage

or blow my case to smithereens just to be on the safe side

it is also pointed out that I should stand behind the yellow line

and let people exit the train before attempting to enter

and to mind the gap at all times

as I am now in the quiet carriage I must not play my music

talk on my phone or annoy the other passengers

it is a shame the railway company

does not practice what it preaches

It is a light piece. The announcements both at stations and on the train are faithful to what I heard over the speakers. 

Here's an old Pentangle album, the title song is about a steam train amongst other things.

Until next time. 

RUBBER BANDED

It's an interesting phrase rubber banded, with a number of meanings. The surface definition that a number of things are held together by a rubber band is obvious. In Transactional Analysis the term refers to being suddenly catapulted back to an earlier powerful emotional state. The phrase lent itself to the idea I had for this post's poem.

RUBBER BANDED

there was a memory jogger

buried deep

in the language of the word stash

he held in his hand

and read with his eyes

and it hurled him back in time

to gaze upon his younger self

a small thing half formed

I had the idea of being transported to a time in the past after reading something that chimed in a book. This is a small poem but it was included in The Wait of Water. Contact me if you would like a copy.

Here's Boy Genius.

Until next time.

EVENTUALLY IT SANK IN

A poem of exile. A human the wrong side of a wide sea, a cold beach, night falling.

LIVING BY THE WATER

His last great splendid had sailed.

He walked the changing shore,

watched the waves,

kidded himself that a life

lived beside the water kept it real.

Eventually it sank in.

His last great splendid had sailed.

And here he was

quenched in brine and red biddy,

discovering he was the wrong side of a sea

too deep to wade, too far to leap.

The sun had set, the night was cold.

It is an attempt to catch a fleeting moment, a sudden realisation that changes one's perception. The illustration is by Alison Wilson. Oh, red biddy is a drink of the desperate, cheap red wine and mentholated spirits.

Here's Anna Ternheim and Ana Brun. 

Until next time.