Celine’s Salon Launch

Hello PL’s

I had the best time last night at Celine’s Salon Anthology Launch So proud to be a part of this wonderful collection

Held at El Camion/The Pink Chihuahua in Brewer Street in the heart of Soho, we went down to this groovy basement. I really felt a big part of old Soho, with its alcoves and cubby holes. The sensation of being in a secret underground full of exciting things.

The biggest joy was seeing my wonderful pals read and perform

Amongst others, talented and prolific poet, Barney Ashton Bullock read from his magical book ‘Bucolicism’ and the Lucy’s (Lyrical and Gaster) were in great form as they played together once again. So lovely to re-embrace these people after the cold hand of lockdown.

My readings and voice still need work but this lovely happening has set me on the right road…

Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. Keep your hand on that dial for more poetry antics real soon….

Dobby’s One Minute Poem

Hello Poetry Lovers

Today our feline poet is presenting her one minute poem.

I’ll remind you of the rules ; 60 syllables, 3 stanzas, the first line is 8 syllables the next three lines are 4. Rhyming is AABB

Well, read on…….

I must have a sardine to eat

There at my feet

I want it now

I don’t care how

I demand to have some more fish

There on a dish

One nice and fat

for this black cat!

Now it’s time for my bowl of milk

It tastes like silk

which I will lick

until I’m sick

Wasn’t that fun?! Now, I’d better keep an eye on the cupboard as there’s tuna in there! Any one minute poems are most welcome, do try one

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back real soon…..

The Cherita

Hello Poetry Lovers

Now, here’s an interesting form of poetry. I discovered this on an Instagram thread by the inventive Soul Craft Poetry.

The Cherita, a Malay word for telling a story, or tale, consists of six stanzas; one single line, two lines then three.

There are two examples below, the first is extraordinarily unsubtle, penned by a ruthless poet, followed by a tender and gentle one by the lovely Trisha Broomfield.

Read on;

Soul Crafting

Don’t you tell me that!

I can read you like a book, and see your soul crafting through you. 

Do you think I was born yesterday?  Come and finish ironing your shirts!  Your ties and shoes are in a sorry state too!   

And now…..

Cherita

I stretch my hand towards the fire

it is my only source of light

my soul crafts out for you tonight

I hear the creaking of the gate

an owl calls out, the hour is late

an answer swiftly from its mate.

08/10/2021Trisha Broomfield

Wasn’t that last one lovely?! Thank you so much, Trisha for rising to that challenge and sharing such a beautiful piece.

The Cherita is a fun form, do try it at home. I’d welcome any submissions.

Thank you for tuning in, PL’s. Back with more poetry japes real soon….

A Fag Villanelle

Hello Poetry Lovers

I thought we’d start the week with a bit of fun. Now I don’t know what possessed me, but I wrote a villanelle about cigarettes. Almost a taboo subject now but so irresistible.

I usually find villanelles very hard but this one took me 10 minutes to write while I was having my morning coffee, so it just goes to show you.

Anyway, it’s just a bit of a laugh so do read on;

Fags Villanelle

Please give me back my fags 

You’re a scrubber and a thief

Rifling through our handbags 

You really should be wearing tags

Or turning over a new leaf

And please give me back my fags 

From the sweet shop you nick mags

From Tesco, joints of beef

You’re just like the other slags

So please go and nick more swag 

To be honest, it will be a relief 

When you give me back my fags

Remember it was Rothmans fags 

Don’t hide behind that sheath

And get some more carrier bags 

You didn’t do it? Good grief!

It was your boyfriend Keith 

But you were still behind the blags

So please give me back my fags 

H Moulson 2021

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. Any villanelles, or other forms of poetry, do send in. Have a good week

The Paradelle Challenge

Hello Poetry Lovers

To my delight, the lovely poet Trisha Broomfield has accepted my paradelle challenge and has come up with a corker.

To be honest, I think it’s better than its source of inspiration. A lovely poignant and clever piece, thank you so much Trisha. Truly talented. Do read on;

Paradelle

You’ve left me and I’m all alone

You’ve left me and I’m all alone

Your cheating heart now turned to stone

Your cheating heart now turned to stone

You’ve left me and I’m turned to stone

Your cheating heart now all alone

My life moves on while you hang back

My life moves on while you hang back

It emphasises all you lack

It emphasises all you lack

My life emphasises all you lack

It moves on while you hang back

I hope you will find contentment soon

I hope you will find contentment soon

Your emotions tugged by the full moon

Your emotions tugged by the full moon

I hope your emotions will find contentment soon,

You, tugged by the full moon.

You’ve left me; I’m tugged by the full moon

and my life moves on, while you hang back

your cheating , heart, it emphasises all you lack

now you, all alone, turned to stone

I hope your emotions will find

contentment soon.

09/09/2021Trisha Broomfield

Wasn’t that a beautiful piece of writing?! Really well done, Trisha. Please keep them coming.

A paradelle, PL’s, is a very hard poetry form and I’m still at the coalface with mine. If you think you can take on a paradelle, please send it in…

Thank you for visiting, Poetry Lovers, tune in same time, same channel……

The Paradelle

Hello Poetry Lovers

Discovering American poet Billy Collins, in a second-hand poetry book sale, I was drawn in by his honest style. Not to mention the paradelle form that he used for the following poem.

Has anyone tried this?! What a swine to do! Basically, there are 4 stanzas with the last two lines having to use their above words precisely, then the fourth stanza has to use all the words of the poem.

Confused? – you will be. Read on…

Paradelle for Susan

I remember the quick, nervous bird of your love. 

I remember the quick, nervous bird of your love.

Always perched on the thinnest, highest branch.

Always perched on the thinnest, highest branch. 

Thinnest love, remember the quick branch.  

Always nervous, I perched on your highest bird the.   

It is time for me to cross the mountain.

It is time for me to cross the mountain. 

And find another shore to darken with my pain. 

And find another shore to darken with my pain. 

Another pain for me to darken the mountain. 

And find the time, cross my shore, to with it is to. 

The weather warm, the handwriting familiar. 

The weather warm, the handwriting familiar. 

Your letter flies from my hand into the waters below. 

Your letter flies from my hand into the waters below. 

The familiar waters below my warm hand. 

Into handwriting your weather flies you letter the from the. 

I always cross the highest letter, the thinnest bird. 

Below the waters of my warm familiar pain,

Another hand to remember your handwriting. 

The weather perched for me on the shore. 

Quick, your nervous branch flew from love. 

Darken the mountain, time and find was my into it was

       with to to. 

Billy Collins

Wonderful, but difficult, although I know a certain talented poet has come up with (a frankly better) one. I’m still at the coalface, and I don’t like to admit defeat.

Okay, PL’s, I challenge you to come up with one of these. In fact, I demand it.

Thanks for visiting, Poetry Lovers Stay tuned, same time, same channel

All Seasons

Hello Poetry Lovers

Well, the weather may be balmy but I’m certainly turning out my drawers and sorting out my winter clothes. Isn’t it lovely when seasons turn?

September to many of us is like a new start. That’s why I was inspired by Sharron Green’s beautiful poem below. It says so much about the nature that surrounds us and how we should appreciate it.

Thank you for this, Sharron, a real corker Do read on;

A Taste for all Seasons

Spring sends us all a-spin with a fresh spurt.
From slumberland, new life aspires to grow.
Slim saplings through the frost with danger flirt,
and tulips pop up trumpeting ‘Hello!’

Summer’s slick swallows swiftly swoop and soar.
Seeds sown, now grown, sway softly in the breeze.
Butterflies bid blue buddleia ‘Bonjour!’
Chic sunflowers seize kisses from the bees.

Autumn blazes forth to wild ovations.
Its incandescent energy ignites.
Each leaf’s decease draws soulful incantations.
Flamboyant flair incites a raw delight.

Winter cloaks the sky in clotted clouds.
It’s crystals form a fragile filigree.
The Earth is enveloped in icy shrouds.
While nature rests, this perfect pause is key.

If you want every day to be win win
Be fully in the season you are in.

@rhymes_n_roses 2021

Wasn’t that such a beautiful piece? Such detail that defined the seasons we live through Thank you, Sharron, and keep them coming ….

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back real soon with more poetry adventures……

Milestones a Cotswold Home

Hello Poetry Lovers

before I set sail on holiday, I really wanted to post this touching poem from clever poet, Trisha Broomfield

A strong and poignant recollection of a childhood home. I remember longing to live in the country, and after reading this, I realise I still do.

I also had the pleasure of Trisha face to face last week at the Roger McGough Finalists Competition. Hence the lovely selfie above. What a day that was….

Read on;

Milestones a Cotswold Home

Four cottages knocked into one

the ghost inhabited number two

only mum could see, moving to one side

to let it pass each time they met

in the doorway to the dining room

the hall was twenty-two yards long

mum said, as long as the cricket pitch

but we were too young to care

as long as we had our own rooms

one each with a window seat

horses clip clopped down the road

the farmer next door kept pigs

and mud, school was an uphill struggle

and a huddle around a round fire,

Royal Scots washed down with warm school milk

we watched, under duress, Yuri Gagarin

his flight a milestone in the race to space

while swinging our legs, bored.

Then out to play, so much room to run

so little chance of reaching a beach.

Trisha Broomfield 2021

Wasn’t that a beautiful piece? Real images of childhood and intricate detail. Thank you so much, Trisha. Please keep them coming.

Going on a boat this week. I’ll keep you posted Thanks for tuning in …….

The Sealey Challenge

Hello PL’s

I’d love to talk more about The Sealey Challenge that Dobby and I took on in August, where we read 31 pamphlets, one for each day of the month (I’m sure you worked that one out for yourself!)

August is a dull and grim month for me normally, full of nothing. At least I don’t have the children off school anymore as they’re grown up now, but it can still stretch ahead. However, that wasn’t the case for August 2021.

Anyway, these are some of the wonderful books me and Dobby took on. If I’ve left out anyone’s, forgive me.

Also there were so many more I would have liked to have covered, but time amazingly, ran out. I tried to focus on women the most but I slipped a few male poets in;

I’m so glad I featured works that were very special to me;

It was an absorbing journey, PL’s. I recommend you get onboard in 2022….

Thanks for tuning in and sharing my journey, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back real soon…..

Dorothy Parker

Hello Poetry Lovers

Well, Dobby and I had a wonderful August doing the Sealey Challenge. Reading one poetry pamphlet or collection a day for the whole month. More exacting than it first appears, but we learnt an awful lot from it.

I think Dobby’s learning curve was to stay under the bed next August, but I was enlightened to new and wonderful poetry.

Dorothy Parker’s collection, I recall I purchased at the National Theatre bookshop in the summer of ‘85. When I really grew as a person, and learnt about so many new and exciting cultural things.

I’d always adored Dorothy Parker and her witty style. When I devoured her short stories, there were tears of laughter and something else so much darker. However, I didn’t look at her poetry until 31st August 2021, so it’s a mere gap of 36 years but better late than never.

Here’s one of her many wonderful poems, I do recommend a look at her work;

The False Friends

They laid their hands upon my head.

They stroked my cheek and brow;

And time could heal a hurt, they said,

And time could dim a vow.

And they were pitiful and mild

who whispered to me then,

“The heart that breaks in April, child,

Will mend in May again.”

Oh, many a mended heart they knew.

So old they were, and wise.

And little did they have to do

To come to me with lies!

Who flings me silly talk of May

Shall meet a bitter soul;

For June was nearly spent away

Before my heart was whole.

Wasn’t that so beautiful? And I’m about to enjoy more of them. Funny how a book yellowing in your bookshelf suddenly comes back into life.

Thanks for reading, PL’s and stay tuned for more poetry shenanigans.

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