![]() Tell me what it was like to be seized by a river.įell out from your walls, when the path faded Īnd you wouldn’t wear glasses when you got lost Tell me about mass, the tide of the voices, Let’s leave all the bad stuff to one side. As for the news – we’ll fall outįor writing. On the other hand, when she’s aked to write a letter to someone, this happens I made two attempts to write one and it’s too late and I’m to tired to keep on trying so about 11.30pm I returned to a poem I started writing in response to a poem by John Foggin about a broken pot. Ghazals! they’re ace in the right hands, but I don’t have those hands. But if you’re pushed for time, I’ll borrow a very simple justification that Clare Shaw used in one of her incredibly generous NaPoWriMo posts some days ago. ![]() I’m going to use a reworked version of a post from January 2015 later on to explore it a bit further. Maybe I mean that I don’t want to, in case I ‘fail’. What I haven’t been able to do, apart from finding out what might be done with a pantoum (I’d never heard of it till now) is to follow prompts which focus on a particular form, whether it’s a sestina, a triolet, a terza rima, a rondo redoublé, or whatever.įor whatever reason, I just can’t do it. It turns out that they had, and I’m gradually removing the post-its and bits of paper that marked where they were. Mainly, it’s because I took the opportunity to go through the backlog of notes I’ve made in workshops, to look at the ones I’ve not done anything with, and to ask if, perhaps, any of then have legs. What I’d like to do is to say why I’ve written about 40 poem-shaped drafts since I started, and why I haven’t actually used many of the carefully crafted prompts that Carrire Etter has provided for her huge and hugely enthusiastic group. This will be my last post on the cobweb for NaPoWriMo. ![]() But I know that in two years of compulsory Early English courses at University, the story of Caedmon was the only thing I ever read that came close to moving me. ![]() I must have been to Whitby, or been reading something about Caedmon, or the Farnes.I don’t know. If it does, it won’t come out of nowhere. The thing is, you have no idea what prompt will kickstart something you really want to say. I think there are three small edits to a piece that took about three minutes to write. When I typed this on a screen for the first time, the line breaks seemed to fall naturally, it seemed to want a roughly eight-syllabled line, and the four stressed syllables of Anglo-Saxon verse. It’s out into the turbulence of everywhere, In a language it doesn’t know, this sparrow, Here’s a slightly unfocussed scan from my notebook.Īnd now, here’s the final version, from the collection Don’t think about it, don’t edit it, don’t stop. I wrote the first version of it at Saturday workshop in Sheffield, nearly two years ago. What it does for anyone else is not my business, but I know I love performing it at poetry readings, the rhythm of it. There’s a poem in my collection that did that for me. When you feel it, when it excites you, when it’s like someone else wrote it through you……then trust it. What do you do with that trembly feelingwhen you think you have written a really good poem, or perhaps it’s not …… What set me off today was a post in Carrie’s NaPoWriMo Jeansheridan on The Cobweb’s been update…
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