Now, knocking about with my old friend, Instagram, I discovered the Zejel poetry form. Looked terrific fun so I thought I’d share one with you.
This is an old Spanish form, and the first stanza starts with a tercet, the other 3 consist of 4 lines. Afraid I discarded the syallables but they are usually 8 in each line. What a rebel!
It puts me in mind of the Kyrelle form, but see what you think;
Worries
I put on a new lipstick
But I find it too thick
I’ll never look slick
It’s gloss I need, not matt
This one makes me look fat
I have to look for the cat
I think she’s been sick
My face powder is too pale
I just bought it in a sale
I’ll chuck it without fail
I can take my pick
The lights start to dim
I can smell something grim
I’d better get out the Vim
The clock has a menacing tick
Wasn’t that just fun?! Try one yourselves and show me
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back for more poetry party tricks real soon
Are we settling nicely into 2022 now? Or like me, you’re treading with caution?
I’ve gone back to the world of the Triolet form, if only to feature this beautiful piece from the genuis talented poet Connaire Kensit
Dobby and I are huge fans of Connaire’s work, and my heart was particularly captured by this beautiful triolet. This will be followed by a more ruthless poet’s work, but will not be in the same class. I’m warning you now! Read on;
True Life Romance
The truth is exciting;
Romance is prosaic.
Though not always delighting,
The truth is exciting.
No fictional writing
Can match life’s mosaic.
The truth is, “Exciting
Romance” is prosaic.
C. Kensit 2021
Wasn’t that beautiful, such clever and vivid words. Thank you, Connaire. Lovely piece.
The following triolets are more bitter-sweet but they seem to fall into this subject. More failed romances really.
Read on..
Tap Routine
You told me I had kaleidoscope eyes
In between tap dancing classes
How was I to know it was all lies?!
You told me I had kaleidoscope eyes
But it was all a clever disguise
You just liked to make passes
You told me I had kaleidoscope eyes
In between tap dancing classes
D Moulson 2022
Husband Triolet
My husband would never give you the eye
He’s not that sort of chap
What you’ve heard is a complete lie
My husband would never give you the eye
He swore to me he’d rather die
It’s just all a big mishap
My husband would never give you the eye
He’s not that sort of chap
Traditional 1974
Wasn’t that fun?! Thank you again to the lovely poet and cat lover, Connaire. Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. Stay tuned for some more poetry antics real soon…
Welcome back to our much missed Poetry Basket section.
I am so excited as today we feature that wonderful and talented poet Barney Ashton-Bullock
A trememdous favourite, and one of the first live poets I ever swooned over, Barney’s latest collection Bucolicism – Poems and Fragmenta is published by Strike Force Entertainment and is red-hot and really worth a read. Look at the sizzling review below;
Bucolicism – Poems and Fragmenta by Barney Ashton-Bullock
Subtitled Alt-lite lyric verse for a post-pastoral England, we open the vivid cover of this brand new collection from Barney Ashton-Bullock. This poet has an impressive background of publications including the vibrant café kaput!, and he remains on top with these 27 tight and significant pieces. Stunningly designed and illustrated by Meriel Waissman, with disturbing and irresistible images inside.
I started my journey with Loss a powerful short piece that truly jumps out at the reader. The impact not lost with What We Were Is What We Are, provocative words that are also tender. I bathed in the nostalgic wistfulness, and the depths of the opening stanza, particularly in the deeper depths of the darkest nights, a place we have all been. The brutal romance in You Should Know Where My Heart is, and the intense Englishness and visual colour of Remembrance, Strawberry Mivvi and Knobbly Knees will strike a chord. These words are used to remind of us of what we have lost, what is gone forever. And our ongoing traditions of Wimbledon and Henley melt in the mouth.
The complex haibun style of In More Censorious Summer Dorset Days…gives us such a strong imagery, and a razor sharp insight of the poet’s Dorset background. Dedicated to a lost first love? Very ambivalent and intriguing. The alluring vernacular of Village contains an unforgettable line of Cigs, ket, stout, cide, hash, snog, blow, laid, vom, chuck. The underlying innocence speaks volumes. One of the most irresistible pieces of this journey.
Dorset Prayer is so achingly sad, a nostalgic tableau of former English life, blown away and snatched from under our noses. You’re In Hardy Country, 1974 is a humorous account of youth and cynicism. A clever combination. Gran is almost painful in its lurid and stunning detail. And speaking of pain, Calcot Hotel, Speaking? The sense of loss for these seaside institutions, and a familiar pang of losing a grandmother. The poet puts this over without mawkishness. We come then to the stunning Guest House, a personal favourite with extraordinarily descriptions and clever wording. Full of wonderful revelations and leading to an apt climax.
Then our journey speeds up through England with the wistful and autobiographical words of Tetbury, the structures that unravel themselves. The heart stirring Sezincote borders on the Jarmanesque and our once treasured past, the final line stating that they would not see Sezincote again is moving. The prose of Shoscombe is strong and personal, and our journey takes us to a tribute to Alan Peglar, the saviour of The Flying Scotsman, Childhood (Jump The Tracks) is graphic, dark with an underlying hopeful note.
Autumn Again embraces us with stunning descriptions with the mourning of a lost love. Wistful but never sentimental. Upper Holloway, a very ambitious piece where the poet physically takes us to this part of North London with his pain and experience and its tender subtext. This Ending Life is apt for the last piece and an atmospheric fitting climax.
Ashton-Bullock takes us to so many places in this succinct collection, and it is a journey worth taking. I’d like to go round again please.
Bucolicism Poems and Fragmenta by Barney Ashton-Bullock is available through Cherry Red Records on
Are we embracing 2022? Or shying away from it, fearing yet another blow from Lockdown? There seems to be tremendously mixed and tentative feelings about this very new year .
So, to counteract this trepidation, I have posted two pieces on the New Year.
The first you will see is pretty miserable but may remind us of New Year celebrations best forgotten.
The second is a much more positive piece, with optimism from that lovely talented poet, Trisha Broomfield. She cleverly sums up how we should be feeling
As most of you know, I had a cataract procedure recently. The right eye now feels as if it has gravel in it, due to the eye drops, they say.
So I was feeling quite down about it all. Not only did I have to endure that odd Clockwork Orange type procedure, I had to walk the 2 miles to Roehampton hospital due to roadworks.
So when the lovely poet and friend, Sharron Green gave me this limerick, things really lit up. Read on and you’ll see what I mean. Thank you so much, Sharron. I’ll treasure this;
There was a great poet called Heather Whose humour was light as a feather She had an eye op So her sight would be top And she could bring more folks together
rhymes_n_roses 2021
Wasn’t that terrific?! I would love to do a clever limerick like that! A New Year’s resolution maybe? Thank you again, Sharron
The following collage is Dobby caring for me after my operation. I know I’m going to pay dearly for this.
Thank you for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more antics real soon…
I thought I’d get one more seasonal piece in before Christmas Day.
Inspired by Trisha and Sharron’s pieces, I thought I’d try and get the wonderful detail those talented poets do. I also thought I’d try this structure – what fun!
Anyway, read on;
Christmas always reminds me of ;
The coal fire
Burnt sausage rolls
Mince pies
The turkey in the oven at 7 am
Carry on films
On the telly
I got a wooden jigsaw puzzle one year
Normally
I hate them
Bore me stiff
I was too old for the big wooden pieces
Loved it
Anyway
Christmas dinner was anti-climatic
Dry turkey
Brussel sprouts
Crackers loud
Only the trifle was worth having
Lemonade
Sometimes
A dark Boxing Day afternoon
Holiday adverts
All presents
Opened
Parents and brother hungover
Why do
We bother?
H Moulson 2021
So, PL’s, what can I really say? Except a very Happy Christmas to everyone and thank you all for tuning in this past year.
Christmas draws nearer, and I have another seasonal treat to show you. This is by the lovely and clever poet, Sharron Green
I particularly liked this one because it emphasises the splendour of the season while bringing up relevant issues. I thought this was a very clever and engaging piece.
Thank you so much, Sharron, and congratulations on winning the University of Surrey’s Poetry competition. Do read on;
Christmas Countdown
Clusters of crystals glitter the rose buds
Tinsel the treetops in lullaby lanes
Snow flakes have drifted, sledging through soap suds
Terrible torture to chubby chilblains
Down in the village, homes are bedecked now
Fairy lights garland each garden and roof
Santas on sleighs and Rudolphs project how
Each wants a visitor, this is their proof
Children have scribbled and drawn their desires
Hence all the Black Friday bargains to wrap
Chaos of gifts strewn beside roaring fires
Toxic news turns all plans made to crap
Seems that each day there’s diminishing cheer
Watching the list of do’s and don’ts grow
Twenty-one tapers, eyes turn to next year.
We’ll make the best of this Christmas though.
Rhymes_n_Roses 2021
Thank you again, Sharron and keep them coming please. Wasn’t that a wonderful piece?! It really reflected our current climate.
Stay tuned, PL’s for more seasonal antics real soon…
Wasn’t that such a moving journey? Who didn’t get a lump in their throat, remembering their own mother’s baking these timeless things? With my own Mum it was more sausage rolls and when Christmas Eve comes round, I can still smell that baking aroma. Sigh!
Thanks so much for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be real soon with another seasonal piece
Here we are once again on my favourite subject; Food. Inspired by Trisha Broomfield’s terrific breakfast poem last week, I just had to do one of my own. I didn’t mean it to end up like it did but I feel it’s worth a read anyway. See what you think;
Why is it that Sugar Puffs are so enticing ?
In adverts they explode out the pack – splat!
Over a laughing ladies’ pristine dining table
When I tried that at home, I got shouted at!
Mum is saving up her Embassy Coupons
To replace the old pan cooking my porridge
I really think she should get me a Sindy Doll
Because my only friend’s moving to Norwich
Doorstep toast emerges from under the grill
And my bloody brother has nicked the jam
I’ll be alone in the midst of the playground
And no-one seems to give a damn
I say goodbye to Lynn, shivering in her mac
Standing outside her former front door
A long lonely walk to school from now on
My mum simply asks what I’m crying for
H. Moulson 2021
Well, I hope that wasn’t too grim, PL’s. Not that festive I know, but I was fascinated with the breakfast idea and how many emotions we carry with that vital meal.
More importantly, it gave me a chance to get out my crayons!
Thank you for tuning in, I’ll come up with something festive then (possibly)……
These words are used to remind of us of what we have lost, what is gone forever. And our ongoing traditions of Wimbledon and Henley melt in the mouth. 
Inspired by Trisha Broomfield’s terrific breakfast poem last week, I just had to do one of my own. I didn’t mean it to end up like it did but I feel it’s worth a read anyway. 
See what you think;
Heather Moulson 