Monday, 31 March 2014

Sonnet Challenge for the Week

I thought I'd set myself a challenge for a week as an exercise. I love writing sonnets and although an undisputed challenge I thought it might be fun to write one a day on waking, making the first line, the first thought that comes into my head. 

So here's Monday's offering. It's only had a couple of drafts and no doubt could benefit from a rewrite but this is its skeleton - hope you enjoy xx

Morning Sonnet I

I could have sworn I heard you shout my name,
In the deep dark night, in a lonely way,
Each syllable pronounced with screaming pain,
Infused with longing and  hope that I may
Put down my lover and come to your bed,
Put aside my own heart and pamper yours,
Put right which is wrong in your confused head,
Give up all that is me to attend your flaws.
A singular cause, a life's work addressed;
A manic few moments, a stranger's bed,
A panicking pause, as you demand more,
My eyes wide as skies, no passion repressed,
A lifetime of loving I choose instead - 
So I'll say: "no thanks", continue to snore. 

Morning Sonnet II coming tomorrow :-)

Thursday, 27 March 2014



She’s pouting alright
This pale-skinned woman who might look her age
I cannot tell, I’m just the selfie.
I have no judgement
Just reflect who she might be
With the right light
The right angle
The right life.

You might look in her eyes
But you’ll find nothing there
Just squashed down emotion
Eaten, smoked, drunk
Distracted by drama
Talked over with laughter
Bottled up
Like shame at a wedding.

You could kiss her neck
She’d close her eyes
And in that moment she’d be closer
Much, much closer to me.
Look deeper, look in
Do you dare?
To see her bare
Naked skin

A red raw bleeding weeping woman
With foundation smoothing off her edges
Eyeshadow brightened eyes
Lengthened lashes
Full lips reddened pinker
Than her beating heart.
She smiles, that’s true
But not for you.

And to show my poem's flaws up (!!) I also want to share Plath's poem Mirror. The 1950s selfie xx


I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

Wednesday, 26 March 2014

The no makeup selfie phenomenon hashtag

It's the strangest thing, isn't it, these fads. And as always when I decide to do something I spend ages thinking about why I've decided to do something. Too self-analytical for my own good sometimes...

I could cut to the chase and decide that I did it to support cancer research, and as my mum died of breast cancer that would be plausible. But what's the real reason behind the rise of the selfie, even with make up. 

A friend said a little while ago that he thought it was the search for a face we like. I liked that for a number of reasons, but it's a surface reason. Many people believe it's a rise in narcissism amongst the younger generation, maybe so. For me, and I do enjoy a good selfie indulgence, it's a way to view myself away from a mirror. A way to create a new character almost, a different persona, an alter ego. Or simply a way to reassure myself that I do look okay; having lacked such reassurances and being at the end of the bully's spite as a child. 

When I posted the no make up selfie and then along side one with a touch of war paint on, it was obvious to me how little difference there was - but the difference in how I felt was huge. And that got me thinking about the masks we wear and I question why. 

Then my daughter presented me with the poster below (she's been telling me for ages that I'm more beautiful WITHOUT the paint) but will I listen? :-) 

But it's prompted a poem nonetheless, even if I still don't have the answer. I'll post it tomorrow when it's finished.

Sunday, 23 March 2014

Summer Dreaming

Spring always does it, doesn't it... It has you leaping ahead to summer. Suddenly it feels like it's close at hand and tangible. In England, this constitutes a huge amount of optimism and hope because we never know what kind of silly season we'll be blessed with. 

So conversely, this hope for the future is sprinkled with memories of past summers when we had that exquisite trip to the beach, or that swim in the Dartmoor pool. So here's to last summer, it was a doozie. And here's to the coming one... 
Hope you enjoy me reading my poem: The Cider Pool from last year.

Tuesday, 18 March 2014

Long time no see...

Hey there,
I notice that it's been over a year since I last posted and yet ironically these past twelve months have been my most creative to date. I suppose I'd better catch up. I think I've written over 100 poems this year and countless haiku but I won't bore you with everything.

Here's a poem I'm working on at the moment, critique is welcomed from those in the know :-) no title as yet..

What a child I can be
Open up my heart and give
Out pieces like toffee shards
To all and sundry.

The useless hammer breaks in
A waiting throng crowds round
Bagsying the largest bit
Compete to sin - complete to win.

I stitch my chest back up
Feel remaining remnants rattle
Poke me from inside out
Until I whisper to them, stop.