Poetry Forum

I am starting a poem diary.
One a day, here.


1.


January 12


leafless branches:
witchy fingers

bird feed:
gratitude in grains

finches:
day's slight dancers

their fluttering:
the sleeping breath of Spring

2. (Jan 13)


On the Road Still


The gig is a pub at lunchtime.
The rumour: you're on your way

to a proper, bigger venue;
though nobody knows where.

No stage, a hoovered corner.
Explaining who you are becomes

explaining what you were in the 70s.
The Murky Sound. The bass player

replaced Lemmy in Hawkwind. Now
is on undefined drugs. The guitarist

was "considered" as a step-in
for an un-Rolling Stone. Hands

move in their 45 year old pattern,
as he recalls his wife's instruction:

on your way, pick up a new bath plug.

Woah! One a day? Are you sure?

That's what I thought after day 1, anyway. But day 2's is a doozy.

Let's see you keep up that 50% (OK, 75%) success rate.

Cheers

David

Great idea, Seth, and good poem.

My brother-in-law is in a middle-aged men's punk band. Pretty sure bath plugs feature there too.

Ros

Partly inspired by a real band


Thanks, David

I'll aim for 50 percent then....

Ros, Ta

Middle aged punk bands. On You Tube?


Seth

The end

of this
is at
the start.

The start
of this
is at
the end

Rather mystical. It brings to mind a circle or a Möbius strip, although that doesn't quite fit as there isn't a point that can be considered a starting or ending point. It also reminds me of a card which which has written on both sides "What it says on the other side is not true". Rather mind boggling

Thanks very, Tony. Pleased about "rather mind boggling". But then I like a Mobius strip.

Seth

The Beach in Spring

I declare: this is Spring. To those who say,
But this is January, in the Hebrides,
I say, this is Spring. To those who say,
But you announced it in February last year

or, You announced in March the year before,
I say, nothing. Instead I lead by example,
wrapped up on the beach, gloves, flask,
wind proofed coat, welcoming the change of season.

Very good. Spring is in the mind.

Thanks, David.
It certainly is here.

The Big Questions

are in the small shed at the bottom of the garden.
Nobody wants them in the house with their

referential ambiguities, uncertain implications,
tendency to bang on after a few drinks, drop names,

recommend books, qualifications; addiction to
footnotes, late nights. You can hear them talking

in the small hours, making you get up to close the window.
They can still reach your ear even against the pillow.

I am thoroughly enjoying reading your diary Seth.
I admire your tenacity.
OK, it's only day 5 but I think you will pull this off.
Got to say the first poem did nothing for me.
I'm not really a birdie person.
However, On the road still made me smile.
I especially liked
No stage, a hoovered corner.
Explaining who you are becomes

explaining what you were in the 70s.

The end didn't float my boat
nor did The beach in spring
but The big questions really made me smile.
I enjoyed every single word.
I have read and re-read it and enjoy it more on every read.
The last line is inspiring.
Great stuff.
I look forward to the next instalment.

You put me to shame.
I haven't written anything for such a long time.
You have inspired me to pick up my pen and just write something.
Thanks for that.

I like the Big Questions. I'm also looking forward to your real philosophical poems!

(Hi Pauline!)

Ros

Hi Ros

Ta, Ros. Will try.


Ta, Pauline
nice to see you around again!

I haven't written anything for such a long time.
You have inspired me to pick up my pen and just write something.

Great! The advantage of the poem diary is that you do not have to feel much pressure. Most of them will always head to the bin, but it gets the wheels turning.

It was a hovered corner.




Seth

Cold

The winter's birds gather on the wire.
More eyes to see the food, predators;
for body warmth, whatever collective
wisdom there is. The pub seems busy.

To all the people
I have forgotten,
good, bad, neither,
to you I say...

At the Edge of Teleology

[tab][/tab]After the paintings of Yves Tanguy


Are they worn down parts, scrapyard fragments on the sand,
[tab][/tab]old gods beached at Dover beach? Hard to see their purpose
or its total absence. Organic, inorganic; seem more than geology,

less than life. I can't name them or their place. Torso, drip, melt.
[tab][/tab]Truncated, a box of ricks not tricks, or at their usual extent?
Remains of armies in the night or buds? Far past, near future,

slow decline, a crazed May rise? At their point of triumph, zenith
[tab][/tab]or at low tide, sinking lower? Everything is at the edge
of what it might be, hanging over. Is anything the right way up?



V1
Are they worn down parts,
scrapyard fragments on the sand,
old gods
beached at Dover beach?

Hard to see their purpose,
or see its absence.
Organic, inorganic; they seem
more than geology, less than life.

I can't name them or their place.
Torso, drip and melt.
Truncated,
a box of ricks not tricks

or at their usual extent?
Remains of armies in the night
or buds?
Far past or near future,

slow decline or crazed May rise,
at their point of triumph,
the zenith of their being,
or at low tide, sinking lower?

Everything is at the edge
of what it might be, hanging over.
Is anything the right way up?

Just thought I'd let you know that I love 'The Big Questions'. It's spot on!

Thanks for sharing.

Cheers,

Tristan

Cold


The winter's birds gather on the wire.
More eyes to see the food, predators;
for body warmth, whatever collective
wisdom there is. The pub seems busy.

I don't like birds but this made me grin.

Antcliff wrote:whatever collective
wisdom there is. The pub seems busy.

I wrote something.
It's only two lines but it's a start.

Thanks to you Seth.

January frizzed my hair and coloured
my cheeks a shade I never would have picked.

Hey, it might be crap, but then again
it could be the start of something brilliant.
Whooooo!
Thanks Seth

Join


The Dr Who scarf my grandmother knitted for me
[tab][/tab]reached around my neck, five times,
then down to my ankles: now reaches across years.

Thanks very much, Tristan! Good to know.

Thanks very much, Pauline!

Huzzah! I liked your start....

January frizzed my hair and coloured
my cheeks a shade I never would have picked.

Seth

I really like Join, too. Lovely idea. The young ones don't wear the scarf anymore! It's a shame.

I'm reckoning you must have a bank of these in a rudimentary state stored somewhere. Or it's one hell of a good effort.

Cheers,

Tristan

Thanks very much, Tristan

No bank. That would be cheating. We can hope that the scarves make a come back. I have started to wear a scarf again in the wind. I had forgotten what an excellent thing they are. My nan was a committed knitter.

Seth