Today is National Poetry Day. So between Nadiya's glorious GBBO triumph and my Twitter timeline being full of people's favourite poems, I have not stopped weeping all day. When not weeping or consuming Happy Meals, of course, I have agonised endlessly over which is my favourite poem. That's missing the point about poetry though. It … Continue reading Good poems make me cry and I think you should try it
This is a heck of a lot quicker than keeping a journal. Between the two of us (Monday) The day you first said 'Porridge' instead of 'possiss' My heart broke a bit. Now you're eating solid food (Tuesday) Red, yellow, orange. The colours of your sick light Up your cardigans. After the performance (Wednesday) It's … Continue reading That was the week in…haiku
Short on time today. But yesterday was National Poetry Day - when I was rambling about rodent genitalia; how poetic - and I just read this via a wonderful post on Segullah. I'm so grateful when someone brings my attention to poets from outside of the British Isles, since British writers formed the majority of … Continue reading I want to cry and hug a dictionary. Standard Friday.
Seamus Heaney died today. I found out just before dinner, and sat in an armchair clutching Death of a Naturalist and dripping melancholy into my tomato soup. I fell in love with Heaney on a cold October. Arriving home work-frazzled and chilly, I sent Tim off to his meeting, folded the laundry and then sat … Continue reading The squat pen rests
I am here close to midnight, sat in piles of books. All day (and all night, at regular intervals) and all of the days before, I have been spinning from one thing to the next. The yawning needs of these boys are like a pan of water on a rolling boil. I flip from one … Continue reading Everything flowers
Love Poem You remind me define me incline me. If you died I'd. Lemn Sissay I love this. One day I would like to be this economical, and this true.