On poetry

Thursday, October 08, 2015

Hey you, Happy National Poetry Day!  
At school I always thought poetry had to follow a set rhythm, like nursery rhymes, the times tables or the alphabet -  which on a side note has changed rhythm, how the hell did that happen?!

But maybe not so much anymore, now I like poetry that doesn’t always fit together, but comes alive by jarring at the edges. I still get a bit intimidated by spoken word, and that’s more a reflection on me than the artists who write and perform. I think it’s because I find it so confrontational, the words aren’t on a page patiently waiting for me to grasp the poet’s intentions, instead the poet is right in front of me, daring me to think differently and provoke a reaction. I need to get braver at that and go to more slams -  if anyone can recommend London/Essex sessions please let me know!

And guess what? One of my poems Dance has been included in an anthology, The Great British Write Off 2015, out 30th November, so that’s COOL.


In other news, the black tabby is still up to mischief and has taken to jumping at shadows on the wall which is both hilarious and adorable. Named after the smallest member of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s tribe of Cats inspired by TS Eliot, (not Puddleduck, Khan or Rooper as some have guessed) she is our own little literary homage.

I’ll leave you with these lines from my favourite poet, Jo Shapcott -  her poem Hairless has stayed with me since I first read it in her collection Of Mutability, four years ago. Having lost a dear friend to cancer after a fight that lasted most of my life, the image of a strong woman roaring and singing with strength was all too familiar and I was and am still grateful to her for portraying the warrior rather than the victim.

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