In one of the poetry workshops I attended at the Geneva Writers Conference, we were encouraged to allow our minds to amble aimlessly like a camel, to allow words to come to us. Here is my result (on a topic which is obviously becoming a bit of an obsession with me). I am linking it to dVerse Poets’ much-loved and always interesting Open Link Night, which should be starting this evening (European time).
The straitjackets of corporates I seek to embellish
with jewel-coloured scarves.
The coffin-planks of business jargon I scrape on emery boards
to soften with a smile.
Within the gnarl of strategic progression I untangle
a few words that buzz
– raw and angry – Swiss army knives shredding my pocket
they clamour for rebirth
shimmering Morganas, outside and beside their utilitarian desert.
I undress them
watch them shiver
hear them groan and misbehave.
Done with coaxing I am cruel.
Beseech no more I point the way.
Take no prisoners, gloves are off.
Yet their world of cloned rabbits have leeched me out of colour.
Despite the pictures and the name-dropping, this poem is not really about David Bowie at all, although you know that I am a fan. It’s about writing, finding words to describe your experiences, finding your own voice, inspiration: all the bees that are currently flying around in my bonnet. Buzz over to the dVerse Poets Pub today, where they have Open Link Night.
Harvest-full my hands are, with precious, rarest cargo.
Yet when I open them, they dangle
bereft and bare.
When I nail it on the board for spread-eagled scrutiny,
its beating heart flutters elsewhere.
Missing the target, pinpricks will render
Superficial shrills into confetti thrills.
No capture, falling, F
Quick shake-off –
nothing but dust –
back in ring to entice and encircle
voluptuous forevers and nevers,
untamed, unbowed, unrepentant.
I always fail.
Is there valour in trying?
Defeat feels anything but…
Next time –
always next time –
the vision will be luminous.
Sounds will surge forth, perfectly aligned.
Here’s to the missing.
It is Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets Pub – and have they got something to celebrate! An anthology of some of the best works of the pub regulars is now available on Kindle and in paperback. Much drinking, merry-making and reciting of poetry will be involved, so do join us there!
I’m struggling a little to find my words right now. 6 months of corporate speak, constant travelling and consummate professionalism have taken their toll. Writing and I have never been further apart – or so it seems.
But the good news is that the holidays have started now. I’m taking all of July and August off. July will be dedicated to the family, but August is mine, to read, review, blog, read your blogs and … finally nail that novel. If only the words start flowing again.
Here are some quotes from women poets and writers which currently guide and inspire me:
The joy of writing.
The power of preserving.
Revenge of a mortal hand. (Wisława Szymborska)
I’m not mad. It just seems that way
because I stagger and get a bit irritable.
There are wonderful holes in my brain
through which ideas from outside can travel
at top speed and through which voices,
sometimes whole people, speak to me
about the universe. (Jo Shapcott)
For it would seem … that we write, not with the fingers, but with the whole person. (Virginia Woolf)
Responsibility to yourself means refusing to let others do your thinking, talking, and naming for you; it means learning to respect and use your own brains and instincts; hence, grappling with hard work. (Adrienne Rich)