Mags & Blogs/

At the Plastic Bag Museum

these are the things
that carried the stuff
that people bought
see those loops
for hands – handles
they’re called

naturally they never
carried boxes
the corners would
poke through
split sides
you can see why

empties got crumpled
thrust into drawers
small thin ones used
to pick up dogs’ turds
the sturdier ones
for kitchen bins

some got buried
with their cousins or
stuck up trees years
later plucked free or
flushed out to sea
to bob in packs

some (not this one)
swallowed whole or
chomped through
by blue whales
wrapped round claws
or tails perhaps

you’ve seen one
you can’t get them
any more but feel
how smooth and thin
logo intact how
perfectly preserved

 

 

(published in Mslexia issue 53, March 2012)

Mags & Blogs/

Bumper latest news

Seagull_dieppe

Lots been happening lately.

Firstly, my good friend and very talented poet Charlotte Gann was shortlisted for the Michael Marks pamphlet award. Although she was pipped at the post it was a wonderful to see her pamphlet The Long Woman make the shortlist for a big prize.

Then, I had the chance to take part in a workshop here in Lewes with Mimi Khalvati. I’ve been on the ‘reserve’ list for a while and there’s now a strong possibility I may make the cut for the autumn dates.

It’s difficult to step into an established workshopping group where everyone else knows each other, and I had decided not to attend as a ‘fill in’ any more, but if I can become a regular member I think that will be much more helpful, for me and I’m sure for everyone else, as It’s not always useful to have a stranger turn up and launch into a critique of your work.

Also in June I finished a short course at the Poetry School with Jack Underwood, all about putting together a pamphlet. It was useful and fun, although I’m not sure I’d do a regular class in Lambeth again as travel to and from isn’t easy – the class over-ran every time and because I had to run for a train it meant I missed quite a lot. More about the pamphlet in another post. Met some interesting poets on the course, including Harry Man, Madeleine Wurzburger, Steve Boorman and Olly Todd.

Although I missed the Brighton Stanza meetup last month and will miss the next (am giving a talk to the London Writers’ Cafe group about blogging) I did make it to the Pighog poetry night at the RedRoaster Cafe in Brighton last week. It was a great evening, with John Davies, John McCullough and Rosy Carrick reading – I really enjoyed Rosy’s performance and was great to finally meet the lovely John McC who I feel I already know a little via Twitter and Facebook – I’m now enjoying reading his book The Frost Fairs. I did read at the open mic (just – they called it a day and then said ‘OK, we’ll take one more reader’) and got a ‘well done’ from John Davies afterwards, which was kind of him.

PS the photo was taken in Dieppe at the weekend, where it appears to be summer.

Mags & Blogs/

Hurrah! The Rialto takes another

Rialto

So excited to have had a poem accepted for The Rialto.

The first poem I had published was in this magazine (Rialto 70, Autumn 2010) and to say that I was ‘gobsmacked’ would be an understatement… only I’m not allowed to use that word in my husband’s presence as he believes it is an affront the English language.

The only trouble is … I wasn’t as proud of that particular poem as some of the stuff I’ve written more recently, plus since then I’ve had this nagging feeling it was a fluke, and I needed dear Michael Mackmin to say ‘YAY’ to another in order to revive that ever-ready to deflate tent that is my confidence.

So – phew! Very happy.

Also forthcoming are 3 poems in Iota, although I’m not sure when it’s coming out. Back in March I got a rejection from Iota, for the same three poems that had previously been accepted by the same. Very strange – eventually I realised it was because I had submitted twice – the first time I included my contact details on the poems and then realised that Iota operates an anonymous selection process. I was advised to re-submit, and it was the second submission that was rejected. 

It’s a good example of how the same poems can be wrong for a publication one week, and right for it the next – presumably down to things like what other poems are in the mix already, where the editor has a gap, etc. Maybe also what they read that morning or had for lunch. Who knows – but it was a good illustration of how you should not give up too easily on a poem just because it gets rejected a few times.

Uncategorized/

Charleston Festival

Arabiantent

It’s an annual ritual shared with an old schoolfriend. Charleston (Literary) Festival, at the end of May, takes place in the farmhouse once lived in by the ‘Bloomsberries’ – Vanessa Bell, Duncan Grant, Lytton Strachey, John Maynard Keynes et al. Several hundred people are accommodated in a marquee in the garden, with between-sessions visits to the house, the shop, the lovely walled gardens and the tea tent.

This year there was an addition – the ‘Arabian Tent’ – where Faber held a few taster sessions for its writing courses (clearly more money in this than publishing these days). When it wasn’t being used, however, it looked like this – a space where anyone could loll, meditate or have a quiet gossip while draped over a thinly-disguised campbed or (slightly better upholstered) chaise. Lovely to look at though not so wonderfully comfy in reality, especially on the second weekend when it was COLD.

Can’t complain though – on the first weekend we had glorious weather and Caroline and I enjoyed a long boozy picnic on the lawn.

Tent2

Oh – and the actual author readings…well, Charleston never bothers much with poets, although I feel the opportunity is there for them to run a poetry competition on the Bloomsbury theme. I have a lovely little number about Virginia Woolf ready made for it. Except it’s been published already – heh.

The session that stood out for me was Jeanette Winterson, who talked about her memoir ‘Why be happy when you could be normal.’ From the moment she bounced in she had everyone’s attention. Plus, she eschewed the usual format of reading from behind a lectern, or being interviewed in an armchair by another writer. No, Jeanette wore a lapel mic and simply stood and talked, holding everyone’s attention for over an hour. Very difficult to describe in words the atmosphere and the effect she had. This was pure charisma. I got the feeling whatever she might have asked us to do we would have done it. Winterson for PM!

PS the two friends I was with both got their books signed – cleverly leaving those few seconds early in order to get to the front of the queue – just to report that the author in question is MUCH more petite than she seemed on stage. A big presence.

 

Mags & Blogs/

Back

I haven’t posted here in a while, I actually took the blog ‘private’ for a few months, after a conversation with Catherine Smith about poets and blogging… she argued strongly for poets retaining a certain mystique and not baring their souls to all and sundry (or their weekly shop, or what they thought of the Jubilee etc).

So, being somewhat underexposed as a poet so far, I thought perhaps I’d go into hiding. But I don’t know. The exhibitionist in me wants out. And I haven’t published anything here terribly revelatory. Plus I’m careful not to post any poems that haven’t already been published. So I’m back. I’m also hard at work nurturing my Blogging for Creatives blog, so that’s got be back my blog mojo. 

Who knows, if I make it interesting rather than completely random, someone may even get some entertainment from it. See you soon!

 

 

Mags & Blogs/

When my sister is old

I will wait at the door with flowers
if she greets me at all it will be brief
and cold as the Guildford house
where the stairs stayed uncarpeted
and the kitchen unmodernised,
names and numbers taped on walls,
coats and boots crammed under stairs.

Her back will be bent like our mother’s,
she will start in the middle of a sentence
half scolding, half pleased, tired of TV
and itching to get out walking with sticks
she will bring up that time on the Isle of Wight
when my legs gave way and she carried on,
fitter than me and needing to travel.

We will have tea and talk about church
or someone’s baby, there will never be
enough hours for all she must do or has done.
I will tease out family secrets and remind her
of twenty years she thought she’d never have,
if she comments at all it will be brief,
like the moment before sleep.

 

(from Agenda – web supplement to ‘Retrospectives’ issue April 2012)

 

 

Mags & Blogs/

Invasion

It took three rows of barbed wire coiled round stakes,
hammered at angles into sand and shingle. The beach
packed and leaking like keddle nets of cockles in green
buckets, for six summers.

Wading off in gumboots, baitdiggers beyond the rocks
held occasional wakes, observed by boys belly-down
in the dunes with binoculars, swapping quiet jokes
and stale crackers.

Over on the mud flats lugworms blew their coiled casts
as shellfish slept peacefully, and tides took time to warp
the weed-wrapped posts, as crippled as the knees
of sentries denied their leave.

After the war, low-slung homes stood watch: black-eyed,
slammed cold up against marram grass and buckthorn,
demanding their sea defences. Then came Pontins
and the caravans.

 

published in Interpreter’s House, February 2012

 

Readings/

Olly packs em in at Lewes Poetry

Lewes_arms

Last night I nearly didn’t get a seat at the Lewes Arms for Oliver’s poetry night. Who were all those people? Where did they come from?

I hate to say it, but having a few posters out this time (as opposed to none last year, despite my begging Olly to send me one to copy and put up around town) made a big difference. AND the date was in the paper, together with forthcoming dates – amazing! We don’t need to read the horoscope any more to find out when they’re on. Nice one, Olly.

There was a very mixed bag of readings, thankfully none too long, as there were quite a few of us wanting to read. I really appreciate it when poets don’t grab more than their fair share of stage-time.

The limerick competition threw up some great entries, although for some reason the better ones got binned early on, much to the annoyance of one lady at the front who got more and more vociferous and I thought she was actually going to start a fight. And we had some loud moaning about ‘having to write a limerick’ from one person who didn’t seem to want to enter into the spirit of it. Ho hum. And no, I didn’t win this time!

Angst/

The key to writing better poetry is …

Saw a tweet about the new Arvon course list for 2012 being up. So couldn’t resist taking a look.

I’m going through this thing at the moment where I feel a desperate need for some sort of mentoring, or at least workshopping, with better poets than myself. Better writers, more experienced… I guess I don’t necessarily define ‘better’ in terms of recognition or success, but of course that’s part of it.

But it’s funny, sometimes, when I meet someone in a poetry setting, I get an immediate feeling that they’re ‘good’ – it’s hard to describe really, but I get a little ‘ping’, a lightbulb moment I suppose.

I can think of three people who’ve given me this feeling in the last few years. But I’m too shy to name them right now 🙂 The point is, they’re not all obvious candidates for the ‘lightbulb moment’. And I’ve come across many others who you’d think would qualify, but don’t.

It’s probably nothing to do with poetry wisdom or anything. Just a spark, a perceived (and possible one-sided) rapport.

Anyway, the Arvon courses that jumped out at me were a week on ‘Advanced Poetry’ with Carol Ann Duffy (quality-controlled entry, which I like) – but it’s a) in Scotland and b) overlapping with family holiday (already booked) …. a week in Devon with Mimi Khalvati and Sean O’Brien (I think… if I remember that correctly) – I haven’t yet been able to infiltrate the Lewes Live Lit monthly workshops with Mimi Khalvati, something that frustrates me NO END – and the idea of travelling to darkest Devon JUST to get into a workshop with her, when I can’t do so in my HOME TOWN, seems deliciously perverse.

And then there’s the possibility of a week with Don Paterson, albeit a ‘fiction and poetry’ week, when fiction interests me not one iota…. but Don Paterson? Oh my. Don. Paterson.

So I probably won’t be shelling out my £650 this year to the Arvon Foundation. And anyway, all these courses…. they’re a business, right? Just how many courses have the successful poets actually been on, at least, those who’ve been plying their trade since before the MA Creative Writing boom?

Isn’t writing better poetry down to reading good poetry, attempting to write stuff that’s as good, and practising again and again?