Heather Moulson

My Undoing ….

Hello Poetry Lovers

Today’s poetry prompt has been the term ‘Un’ . Understanding there are endless possibilities with this when you think about it. I’ve made this piece a bit bitter sweet. I hope you like it

Unfulfilled

Undoing my shoes

Undressing at night alone

Understated underwear

Ungainly half-slips

Unwashed knickers

Unmade up face

Unfit for purpose

Undercooking the supper

In an unoiled pan

Understanding – or not –

That you’re working late

Unscheduled of course

Unplanned but unfortunately

undone

I don’t unpack my bags this time

I write you an underscored email

And undo the front door

Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. I hope you weren’t underwhelmed by this word exercise. I look forward to hearing your own particular uninhibited pieces on this exercise.

We’ll be back with more poetry adventures real soon…

Walter de la Mare Corner

Hello Poetry Lovers

Yes, I stumbled upon Walter de la Mare’s collection Secret Laughter the other night.

Published in 1969, it inevitably brought back memories of childhood, and reading his poems at school. As we know, any education is wasted on the young and I enjoyed reading them a lot more now.

I’ve chosen and illustrated two pieces – the first one’s a bit unnerving (but couldn’t resist!) and the second one, as you will see, is very close to our hearts.

Some One

Some one came knocking

At my wee small door;

Some one came knocking,

I’m sure – sure – sure;

I listened, I opened,

I looked to left and right,

But nought there was a-stirring

In the still dark night;

Only the busy beetle

Tap-tapping in the wall,

Only from the forest

The screech-owl’s call,

Only the cricket whistling

While the dewdrops fall,

So I know not who came knocking,

At all, at all, at all.

Puss

Puss loves man’s winter fire

Now that the sun so soon

Leaves the hours cold it warmed

In burning June.

She purrs full length before

The heaped-up hissing blaze,

Drowsy in slumber down

Her head she lays.

While he with whom she dwells

Sits snug in his inglenook,

Stretches his legs to the flames

And reads his book.

Walter de la Mare 1969

As you saw, PL’s, I altered the human to a cat in the illustration of the last piece. Much more fun.

I hope you enjoyed these two pieces. I loved the loneliness of the first piece and the tenderness of the second. I hope you found that so too.

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. I hope I’ve evoked some childhood poetry for you. I will feature Mr de la Mare again very soon.

Stay tuned for more poetry action…..

Things I would like to Experience…

Hello Poetry Lovers

Today I went mad on the poetry prompt ‘X’ – a great Experience(!). This turned out to be good fun, and X is surprisingly flexible – and wistful. Anyway, read on and Explore (oh, stop it!)….

Things I would like to Experience

I’d love to get into a X rated film

Even better if it was 3D

So I could wear X-Ray specs

Then I would get the plane

To Mexico and become

An ex-pat, an extrovert,

Lead a non-exacting existence

In Excessive heat

Though I would have some

Explaining to do when I’m extradited to

Home ground

That could all be very toxic

I expect

An exciting thought though

HM 2023

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s.

There is an X in all of us, so I want to see your pieces. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon…..

Halloween Capers..

Hello Poetry Lovers

Hands up who likes Halloween?! I mean really likes it. I thought not.

Do you remember when it only once got a mention on Blue Peter and drawing a witch at school? And that was about it?!

Now, of course, it’s all costumes and paraphernalia. Awful! So I’ve tried to get over what confusion that period used to cause. It took me a long time to understand the Halloween concept, and no-one else knew either! Not really.

I’ve tried hard to put this over, read on….

Halloween 1968

Coal black night where witches fly

“Can I come with you, aye bye and bye”

Grey skies on a school afternoon

they say witches fly right to the moon

But what IS Halloween?!

Conkers lay dead on the ground

come now, you’re home safe and sound

shall I draw you a nice pumpkin pie?

Americans don’t eat them, that’s pie in the sky!

But what IS Halloween?!

Teacher shouty and brash

school dinners with corned beef hash

Friday afternoon I’ll draw her a witch

but Mrs Ross’s a bad-tempered old bitch

But what IS Halloween?!

She’ll love her favourites Maxine and Pat’s

mine will get a glance and that’s that.

I’ll take it home, hope for the best

that Mum will take the slightest interest

But what IS Halloween?!

This question actually comes from my lips

Mum says shuttup and eat your chips!

no-one cares less about stupid Halloween

witches don’t exist, this is bloody obscene

It’s actually the eve of All Saints Day

now for chrissakes go and play!

But what IS Halloween?!

H Moulson 2022

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. An Unhappy Halloween to you all! We’ll be back real soon….

The Spice of Life….

Hello Poetry Lovers

On Thursday we went to Poems not Bombs open mic poetry at the Spice of Life pub in Soho. A free event hosted by the talented Paul E McGrane from 3 till 5. A great performance space down in the pub’s cellar. A blissful and decadent way to spend an afternoon……

Adore this picture! Looks like I’m singing a French pop song! When in fact I read 3 poems!

From twenty or so poets, we had the joy of Donall and Janice Dempsey, the amazing Lee Campbell (and Rufus), Manatita Hutchinson (aka Lantern Carrier), and Steve Tasane – these latter two poets were a new discovery for me. Such vibrant and stunning material.

This is the lovely thing about live poetry, you really don’t know who you’re going to meet! I can thoroughly recommend them! I’ve put Trisha Broomfield there in the gallery but sadly she couldn’t make it this time, but Trisha was there and vibrant in July. And will join us again soon.

Poetry not Bombs takes place every third Thursday afternoon of the month at The Spice of Life pub in Soho. Sign up at 2.30 pm. Be there or be square!

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

Lit Up….

Hello Poetry Lovers

Another great prompt from Sue Burge’s mind gym, which is Lucent. This can be taken so many ways and any sort of light can be fun.

Who remembers lighting a match for one of the frequent smokers of the past, and their features looking so different in that fleeting glow? Fascinating, if not always flattering.

I’ve currently written a sad one for now…..

You are lucent when you talk to her

Your thin features lit up

When you look at me, they go

Perceptibly dim.

How did I put your fire out?!

It was pretty hot a few months ago

There’s no light in your voice

When I call

And the world is dark when you don’t

Call Me

Housewives II

Hello Poetry Lovers

Today I would like to further explore housework and what it really does. Does it really make a difference? Can it really clean everything ?! It can’t erase past arguments, and emotions.

This one’s a bit grim, not my usual style but read on and see what you think….

Cleaning the marks of a house is impossible

You can wipe things over and hope for the best

But you can’t shine up the arguments and tension.

You can wash the floor but the bitching remains

You can change sheets all you want,

But you can’t stop those nights of worrying.

Spraying a mirror will not erase the memory

Of what it has already seen

However, dusting can be good for the soul – with your eyes closed!

HM 2023

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

The Who Loos

Hello Poetry Lovers

While we continue to explore toilet capers, clever poet Trisha Broomfield has summed up a particular memory of the ultimate toilet nightmare – the portaloo. And the murky horrors it brings.

Funny, I was originally going to go to this Who concert in ‘73 but something happened with the tickets. In short, they didn’t appear! So Trisha has pointed out what might have been.

Fantastic piece, Trisha. Thank you so much. It’s a great pantoum, PL’s, do read on….

A Toilet Pantoum

The Porta Loos are past their best

we’ve been here all day watching bands

the sun is hot, girls are distressed

we thread through packed crowds holding hands

we’ve been here all day watching bands

we only came to see The Who

we thread through packed crowds holding hands

the sky is turning dark from blue

we only came to see The Who

we’ve eaten all the food we brought

the sky is turning dark from blue

no sunscreen and we’ve all been caught

we’ve eaten all the food we brought

we’ve drunk the beer, no water here

no sunscreen and we’ve all been caught

loos overflowing now I fear

we’ve drunk the beer, no water here

the sun is hot, girls are distressed

loos overflowing now I fear

the Porta Loos are past their best.

©TB

26/09/2023Trisha Broomfield

Isn’t that such a painful memory. I recall Madonna’s concert at (old) Wembley Stadium in 90 degrees. We are so unprepared for these things and Trisha has captured it beautifully. Thanks again, Trisha.

Now, Poetry Lovers, I want you to explore your inner toilet and send your poems on a postcard please to the usual address…

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

Housewives Corner

Hello Poetry Lovers

Once again I could not resist another prompt from Sue Burge’s Mind Gym. This one featured Cleaning cum Housework. One of my favourite themes, I immediately put pen to paper.

Now you must remember being round someone’s house as a child, and it was like a new pin. Wasn’t it a bore?! Couldn’t go anywhere or touch anything! You were pleased to get home! Well, I tried to capture those gleaming places. Do read on….

Housewives Choice

Auntie Joan polished her walnut radiogram to a brutal shine

Auntie Doris’ red carpet was to be ate off

Auntie Betty had a living room that was never used

And vacuuming was a regular occurrence round auntie Prue’s

It’s hum carried through her gleaming window

Our own crunchy Lino and unmade beds

Complimented the butler sink full of washing up

And the neglected laundry pile

Discarded peas on the kitchen rug

Watching Daktari on a dust soaked telly

Sitting on a crumbed sofa

More comfortable than theirs could ever be!

H Moulson 2023

Thanks for reading, PL’s. I hope it brought back all those bore visits for you too. I mean, who lives like that?! I want to hear your memories please….

Tune in again real soon for more poetry action…

The X Hour….

Hello Poetry Lovers

We have another variation on our X prompt today. Written by clever and prolific poet Sharron Green, she brings home how X is very much in the limelight indeed.

This great piece highlights a drastic change in our social media. That cute little Twitter bird replaced by a grim looking X. I’m so glad someone has spoke up about this, and thank you, Sharron.