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Category Archives: poetry

Take a Side, Pride and A Poem

We live in very uncertain times and many of us feel worried.  At choir we are learning several songs of strength and resistance written by our leader and I always leave choir feeling stronger and more determined.   One of our songs (and I will share them after their debut concert in July) is about standing up in the face of injustice and defending those less able to do so for themselves. I was reminded of these words of Desmond Tutu:

  “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”

On Sunday, in Saltash, we waited for the Cornwall Pride Bus and the parade. It was brilliant and very well supported. One of our songs is about being who you want to be and loving who you want to love and I will share that one later too.

I have a friend who is a poet and he has recently had an event where he gave away A Poem on a Paper Bag – a delightful idea. He visited Cornwall last week but we have family here so couldn’t meet up. However, he has sent me my very own Poem on a Paper Bag and here it is, in his very own handwriting. Thank you so much, Kim. I love it – Jackdaws caught to perfection!

Kak-Kak by Kim Ridgeon

 

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Beach Sign, Bullfinch and A Poem

We need one of these on every beach.

The bird feeder has been busy. Look carefully at the second photo to see the departing Goldfinch.

The following poem, “I am very bothered” by Simon Armitage was one much enjoyed by the teenagers I used to teach. It touched something in them.  I was pleased to hear that he is our new Poet Laureate.

I am very bothered when I think
of the bad things I have done in my life.
Not least that time in the chemistry lab
when I held a pair of scissors by the blades
and played the handles
in the naked lilac flame of the Bunsen burner;
then called your name, and handed them over.

O the unrivalled stench of branded skin
as you slipped your thumb and middle finger in,
then couldn’t shake off the two burning rings. Marked,
the doctor said, for eternity.

Don’t believe me, please, if I say
that was just my butterfingered way, at thirteen,
of asking you if you would marry me.

 
 

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Today’s Post, Pretty Things and A Poem

Today’s post brought me a small packet and a card from a friend with whom I used to work. She has seen my glass pieces and sent some earrings for me to use. I have already put three of them into designs and will show you when they are complete.

Card from June

The earrings are perfect for the way I use them Thank you so much, J.

It is 26 years since my Mum died on this day, 4th June in 1993. Last year at this time I showed you some lovely photos. This year, here is a poem I wrote some years ago when challenged to write a 26 line poem, each line starting with the next letter of the alphabet. It was one of those moments. This one is for you, Mum.

As I was walking along the
Beach
Clutching my shoes,
Dipping my toes in the water and
Expecting to meet a
Friend,
Grief
Hit.
I
Just had to
Kneel in the sand,
Linking
My fingers so tightly they became
Numb.
Odd, how the
Passion of grief
Quits only to
Return
So suddenly and unexpectedly.
Then it’s gone again and I’m left
Uplifted by the
Vision of the sea she loved,
Watching
X numbers of
Yachts
Zimming across the waves………..

 

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Garden Bouquet, Bluebell and Kaja

I collected some prettiness from our garden to make a small bouquet to take to our Dear friend, Ti. In it there was a branch of Crinodendron Hookerarium, some Clematis Montana, two kinds of Pittosporum, some beautifully scented Choisya Ternata Apple Blossom and a few Spanish Bluebells.

In their developing woodland a few English Bluebells have arrived. What a joy!

Kaja loved walking there with us, almost disappearing in the long grass.

Kaja

As I am just finishing writing this evening, Radio 4 has just told me that it is International Dylan Thomas Day. I love the works of this amazing poet who died far too young. If you put his name into my search bar you will find many posts with his poems. His book, “Deaths and Entrances” was my first introduction to his poems, bought for me when I was about 11 years old.

‘A Refusal to Mourn the Death, by Fire, of a Child in London’  touched me then and still does.  It is not as harsh as it sounds. He seems to be asking why one death should be mourned more than another. We are all of equal value.

Never until the mankind making
Bird beast and flower
Fathering and all humbling darkness
Tells with silence the last light breaking 
And the still hour
Is come of the sea tumbling in harness

And I must enter again the round
Zion of the water bead
And the synagogue of the ear of corn
Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound
Or sow my salt seed
In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn

The majesty and burning of the child’s death.
I shall not murder
The mankind of her going with a grave truth
Nor blaspheme down the stations of the breath
With any further 
Elegy of innocence and youth.

Deep with the first dead lies London’s daughter,
Robed in the long friends,
The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her mother,
Secret by the unmourning water
Of the riding Thames.
After the first death, there is no other.
 

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Owl Wisdom, Philip Larkin and Green

Philip Larkin ‘May’

Green everywhere

 

Sowing Seeds, Baking and Sea Glass

We’ve been busy in the garden today, planting small plants and sowing seeds.

Nasturtium seeds

I baked some Fruity Flapjacks for the lovely Mr S and Daughter No 1 who will be working on the boat for the next few days and will need lots of refuelling.

Fruity Flapjack

Regular readers will know that I like to incorporate sea glass into my glass pieces (Thank you, Judith!) I came across this poem which amused me – a lovely way to age.

On a fitting room door on Sanibel Island #SeaGlass

 

 

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A Card, Some Beads and A Poem

Happy Days to you all! All the letters here are glass.

Mother’s Day in the UK was a couple of weeks ago

I love scouring the charity shops, the thrift shops, for jewellery to up-cycle in my glass work. today I found this colourful beady necklace.

Long beaded necklace

There is a lesson for us all in the following poem by Brian Patten.

Inessential Things – Brian Patten

What do cats remember of days?
They remember the ways in from the cold,
The warmest spot, the place of food.
They remember the places of pain, their enemies,
the irritation of birds, the warm fumes of the soil,
the usefulness of dust.
They remember the creak of a bed, the sound
of their owner´s footsteps,
the taste of fish, the loveliness of cream.
Cats remember what is essential of days.
Letting all other memories go as of no worth
they sleep sounder than we,
whose hearts break remembering so many
inessential things.

 
 

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