The Skin Game

Hello Poetry Lovers

Today, we have a beautiful touching poem from the lovely Trisha Broomfield that’s on such a personal subject and so much a part of us – our skin.

I couldn’t resist sharing this moving piece (and illustrating it too!). After this poignant poem, there is a second one not nearly so (skin) deep but still skin related and the things we used to put up with.

Anyway, read on;

My Skin

My skin is my mother’s, soft and yielding


scored by bra straps
scarred by childbirth


it is my father’s, strong and pliable
repelling the outer world
protecting his home and family


my skin is thin
lets others in
too sensitive by far
but my skin is my mother’s soft and yielding


my skin is my father’s strong and pliable
repelling the outer world.

Trisha Broomfield 2022

Seeing Skin

Red marks under breasts from cheap bras


Shoulders indented from their gruesome straps
Patterned knickers from Bargain basements


That folded into young buttocks.
Sanitary belts pulled on cramping stomachs


Later, Nikini pants that chafed between thighs
When those marks of living faded,
And before the winceyette nightie

was pulled on over greasy hair
You could finally see skin

H Moulson 2022

Wasn’t that just wonderful?! Thank you so much, Trisha. Please keep them coming.

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

Interview

Okay, Poetry Lovers, settle down! Welcome back to our talk show studio where we are expecting the lovely poet, Douglas Graham Wilson! (Pandemonium)

(The host raps a ruler on the desk There is rapt silence)

Now Now, you don’t want me to interrupt Security’s fag break, do you?! Lets give a very warm welcome to our guest today, Douglas Graham Wilson!

(Studio shakes with ecstatic applause)

Douglas glides elegantly down the lighted staircase

So, Douglas, welcome to the show. I admire your velvet bellbottoms

Oh thank you, you don’t think it’s a bit much with the loganberry cravat?!

(Audience emphatically disagree)

If a cool guy like you can’t get away with it, then no-one can! Isn’t that right, aud?!

(Ecstatic endorsement from the audience Five minutes of applause)

So, Douglas, thank you so much for coming on the show, tell us something about yourself. Such as how did poetry become a part of your life?

Thanks for having me. I began writing poetry around 12 years old after I was encouraged by my English teacher, Mr Black. We had to write a poem for an assignment and he was really impressed with my poem. I have been writing ever since.

My biggest influences are TS Eliot, Rumi, June Jordan and Charles Bukowski.

Very impressive influences .Teachers can be such a part of who we are. They can go one way or another, but for you, Mr Black sounded like he went the right way!

Now, tell us about your wonderful new collection

Of Love and Other Maladies consists of poetry selected from a larger manuscript of my poetry spanning around 20 years of work.

A highly commended collection, what is your personal favourite?

My personal favourite in the book is the poem Decomposition

Ah yes, a very powerful piece. Mine was Ethan because of the strong and heartrending interaction between two lovers. However, I had a wealth of favourites in there, including Decomposition

What is your next step? Live readings? Are you working on something else now?

Yes I will be doing readings at the next Celine’s Salon in Soho, and there are other plans in the works for other venues. I am also busy compiling another manuscript.

Excellent, we’ll watch this space. I can’t wait to read more work from you. Now,

(nervous gasps from the audience),

tell us the best gig you’ve ever done, then the Worst!

The best gig I ever did was the opening night of my debut performance poetry show, Indirect Confessions in Cape Town, South Africa. It was jam-packed and flowed so beautifully with a truly appreciative audience.

The worst gig I ever did was the closing night of my debut performance poetry show, Indirect Confessions, in Cape Town, South Africa.

We extended the run too much so audiences gradually dwindled; on the last night there was just a handful of fidgety people and for some reason sirens and garbage trucks outside kept on interrupting my performance at poignant moments!
We live and learn…

Oh no! Don’t those moments go on forever?! And in the same venue as your hallowed one too! Yes, we certainly live and learn

It’s been terrific having you on, Douglas, and a great experience. Now, you must be going somewhere really happening afterwards…

I’ve got to practise walking in my new platform shoes first, so it’s straight home for me.

Ah me too. Feet up in front of Z Cars Well everyone, give the lovely Douglas a big round of applause and er – take care up those stairs. What are those heels? 4 inches?

I will! Thank you and goodnight

Douglas cautiously climbs the lighted stairs

Wasn’t he just a wonderful guest, Poetry Lovers and studio audience?! Stay tuned for more poetry antics real soon….

Letter to my Daughter

Hello Poetry Lovers

Today, I would love to share this moving and poignant piece from the wonderful poet, Trisha Broomfield who I had the pleasure of meeting up with last week at the Cranleigh Arts Centre. Not only did we have a lovely slab of orange polenta cake but so many memories of reading poetry there returned to us.

Titled A Letter to my Daughter, I found it stirring and profound. It put me in mind of Dorothy Parker too, and the details of how a young girl has to live. Do have a read, and tell me how much you learnt these things in life the hard way! I know I did!

Letter to my Daughter

Don’t wear white to eat

beetroot or bolognaise,

drink coffee wearing black,

sip slowly,

wear lipstick to win an argument

glasses to return expensive items

to a shop.

Carry a bottle opener in your bag,

in case you meet

a lonely Aussie.

Keep accounts,

a diary,

your receipts,

your sense of humour,

pack a smile, use often,

it baffles those who have no smiles of their own.

Learn how to swear in different languages,

how to do a handstand,

how to sew and cook,

find a partner with these skills.

Learn to change a bulb,

a wheel,

your mind,

do not be defined

by those around you

you are your own person

and being alone is actually being

all one.

Learn to be unafraid

do not say ‘I don’t mind’,

you have mind,

exercise your right to use it, lose it

and change it often, (see line 23).

Fill your heart with love,

you will never have to search 

others for it.

Buy the best you can afford,

flowers, food 

clothes and carpets,

give freely to those who cannot afford

the same,

remember your name

and give it a clear voice,

it may have been my choice

but it is

your

life.​​

13/06/2018Trisha Broomfield 

Isn’t that a stunning piece?! Thank you so much, Trisha. Lovely poem, especially with all the life details in it. Please keep them coming…

Thank you so much for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back real soon from inside the studio – yes! There’ll be an interview! Book your tickets or get queuing now!!!

Poetry Basket Review

Hello Poetry Lovers

Welcome back to another Poetry Basket review, and today we have an absolute belter, Douglas Graham Wilson’s new collection Of Love and Other Maladies. A wonderful poet and friend, Douglas takes us on a real journey of emotion and human situations, and I’m proud to present a hot and well deserved review ;

Of Love and Other Maladies

Douglas Graham Wilson 

I was thrilled to receive the first poetry collection from that vibrant poet Douglas Graham Wilson.   Succinctly titled Of Love and Other Maladies, it is sleekly presented and designed by the relatively new Wordville Press. 

I’ve had the privilege of seeing this skilled poet from Cape Town read his absorbing and intricate pieces live.  I also recall he was the first person I spoke to at Soho Poets, such memories!   

We open with the very visual Lucien in Alabaster, essentially a sensuous title for a sensuous piece. Followed by A Teaspoon of Honey which eclipses the weight of sensuality.  The Field, one of the longer pieces in this book, cleverly combines emotion and a description of the elements.  The cleverly inconsistent structuring truly works and jumps out at the reader.  While Undertow reveals a common human situation told with tense pacing. 

I adored the wistful nostalgia of A Walk through Regent’s Park, because despite a real presence, the reader knew something had gone. This is welcomed by the spirituality of A Deep Blue Truth. Another longer piece Ethan, is a razor sharp insight into a relationship or potentially the end of one, which flows while being uncomfortably authentic. The poet gives us a clear window into these painful situations. I loved the concluding two profound lines that spoke volumes;

it began to rain,  

as you left 

The Realisation carries rocky intimacy and the power balance from a relationship. 

The pain is conveyed vividly, and well written. Human longing and the pain of separation follows us in Love at Long Distance. Wilson has a beautiful use of language and details our basic human longings. 

So, we come to a fitting climax with A Shattered Heart. A powerful title for a powerful piece. Yearning, wanting, longing. Such a strong piece to leave us with. This flowing free verse works for the poet, and we are happy to absorb it.

Beautiful classy book of poems. Highly recommended.  I hope we don’t wait too long for the next one….

To get a copy of this wonderful book, please click below ;

https://www.wordville.net/product-page/of-love-and-other-maladies or https://www.amazon.co.uk/Love-Other-Maladies-collection-Douglas/dp/1838403647/ref=sr_1_1?crid=Z5JTP65GXVF7&keywords=douglas+graham+wilson&qid=1647268933&sprefix=douglas+graham+wilson%2Caps%2C60&sr=8-1

Thank you for tuning in, PL’s. Watch this space for an interview with Douglas Graham Wilson real soon……

Belated Women’s Day

Hello Poetry Lovers

Now this is a bit belated but I’ve penned a poem for International Women’s Day last Tuesday. Angrier than I thought it would be, I stuck with it anyway

Especially as this is a frustration a lot of us have to bear. Anyway read on;

Woman’s work….

Washing load done by half past ten

Only to watch it pile up again 

filthy tea towels in the machine

I need to recycle my magazines 

Who tell me what I could achieve

Why do they all sound so naïve?!

The floor cleaned yesterday now dirty 

And they all wonder why I get shirty 

Speaking of shirts, there’s ironing to be done 

And clothes stained relentlessly by my Son

I’ll clean the stinky fridge out very soon, 

Wondering when I can sit in the living room 

I remind myself to change the sheets 

I think I’ll go out and get some sweets

And 20 Rothmans and alcoholic drink 

That’s the list for today, I think. 

H Moulson 2022

Now, how many of us feel like this? Hands up! Oh yes, lots of hands raised there

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

Beauty Spot…

Hello Poetry Lovers

Well, today I’ve killed two birds with one stone (I must think of a better expression!).

Not only have I revelled in my favourite subject of beauty, but I’ve also written my first duplex poem. I expect that phone to start ringing any moment.

So, welcome to the Beauty Spot where we kick off with lovely poet Trisha Broomfield’s poignant and wistful piece, followed by my duplex. Trisha’s tells us so much more, so we’ll start with her beautiful lament;

I greet the day

make up the face I used to be

searching for a younger me

I brush my greying hair,

eyes that have seen more

than they should

stare back.

I dress in the clothes I used to wear

search for my younger body

it’s no longer there.

Trisha Broomfield 2022

Wasn’t that just beautiful?! A lot of us can identify with that, that youth that we all took for granted. Super piece, Trisha, thank you so much. Now fasten your seatbelts, this is my attempt at a beauty duplex;

My red lipstick has creased 

My Revlon panstick deceased 

Why has my mascara deceased?

And my runny lip pot overflows! 

And I swear I’ve only had a few go’s

On my dwindling Madeleine Mono’s

Overrated, I find them monotonous  

And much too thin to the touch 

Love Mary Quant’s silky touch

Her Lipsticks are velvet as such

velvet sheen and unique gloss

Brush my lips like candy floss

Why have mine all ceased ?

My red lipstick has creased 

Heather Moulson 2022

Thank you so much for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more delights real soon……

Archetypes..

Hello Poetry Lovers

Well, your poetry detective has come up trumps once again. I’ve discovered the Didactic Poem.

I also thought what a hoot it would be if I wrote one about the archetypes in the Tarot card pack. Until I discovered there were 78 of them!

So, I’ve written about 7 – putting in an archetype of my own – in a didactic form. I really love this form, it gives the poet so much freedom. Anyway do read on; 

Lover

Kiss as many boys as you can

Even when they’ve got bum fluff

And burp the word Bollocks   

Smoker

Smoke as much as you can 

Especially someone else’s fags

Take a puff at every opportunity 

Fool

Get off with every single boy in sight

And tell them you love them  

they’ll pay for you to get in the cinema 

Outlaw

Nick everything that you can

Fags, drink and certainly lipstick

Stealing makes you big and clever 

Jester

Swear as much as possible 

Tell as many crude jokes as you can  

Make the air go completely blue 

 Explorer

Go to every disco you can find 

Do every Funky Chicken routine

Even though you’ll be doing it alone 

Bystander

Always blame someone else 

Then run off to the wings 

And snigger quietly 

H Moulson 2022

Wasn’t that a hoot?! Try one yourself and send it in…

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

Zejel III

Hello Poetry Lovers

Welcome back to the wonderful Zejel poetry form. We now have another take on the Zejel by the talented poet, Sharron Green.

I love this, so natural and beautifully descriptive and sums up the things a poet goes through. Especially in the small hours. Thank you so much, Sharron. Great piece. Now read on;

Spanish Lullaby

At this hour silence rings
Peels of peace like ivy clings
Cloaked in fleecy angel’s wings

Time to put myself to bed
Rest my bones, reset my head
But I’m on my phone instead
Scrolling, tapping things

Need to drag myself away
But this poem has its way
Wants to be let out today
‘fore the first bird sings

So this is my first zejel
It’s not great but what the hell
They’re informal – can you tell?
How my tiredness stings.

@rhymes _n_roses

Wasn’t that just terrific, such a lovely and honest piece about the poetry journey we go through. Well, it certainly paid off, Sharron. Well done.

Thank you so much for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry capers real soon……

The Tritina

Hello Poetry Lovers

So, the Poetry Detective comes up with yet another intriguing poetry form – the Tritina.

It’s a mini sestina and half the size. Three lines and three stanzas and a last line, as opposed to the hefty six stanzas of the Sestina. My heart sinks when a sestina is read out, they’re so weighty.

However, the little sister, Tritina is much more fun. I’ve written one about my Mother’s fridge. It’s given me the creeps somewhat, I suppose it reminded me of being in her kitchen just after she died (don’t go there!).

Do read on……..

Tritina 

Inside my mother’s fridge was beetroot

On a cracked and stained old plate

The door was buttermilked with age

The discoloured door showed its age

And the pungency of the beetroot

stained scarlet the once young plate

once a shiny and engraved plate

Before the brutality of beetroot

menacingly darkened it with age 

The beetroot on a plate that hankered for a certain age. 

H Moulson 2022

I hope you liked that one, PL’s. Now is that creepy, or is it just me? Who knows?! Anyway, do try a Tritina, there’s much more room to move in those rather than its big sister.

Thank you for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back with more related antics soon…..

Cat Zejel

Hello Poetry Lovers

We’re back to the wonderful Zejel form. Lovely poet Trisha Broomfield

(Here’s a glamorous picture of her ) has written a wonderful cat zejel. My two favourites rolled into one!

A fun and clever piece, Trisha. Thank you so much, keep them coming

do read on;

Cat Zejel

The cat is learning saxophone

I say we’ll leave him well alone

he thinks he will become well known

he’s tried his paw at writing tunes

he has a pal, an owl who croons

they aim their efforts at full moons

they share a certain lack of tone

he’s started acting like a star

and splashing out he’s bought a car

he is convinced he’ll travel far

at least the noise will stop, can’t moan

his wardrobe’s full of sequined suits,

a range of silver glitter boots

his pal the owl practices hoots

is that his agent on the phone?

Wasn’t that delightful?! A lovely touching piece, and it’s made me look at Dobby with suspicion! Although I haven’t seen an owl around lately. Thank you again, Trisha, terrific piece.

Thank you for tuning in, PL’s, we’ll be back with more zejel delights real soon…..

 © TB