THE FIRE IS ASH

I met with the Secret Poets this week and their excellent constructive feedback has enabled me to revise some poems. You can read the last draft of this poem here.

THE MORNING AFTER EDEN

you wake

amazed

you had managed to sleep

after all that palaver

the fire is ash

damp grey in this drizzle

no hope of cajoling a flame

then you realise you are naked

and that is a sin

he wakes

the recriminations begin

and carry on to this day

The last line has been removed and there is less focus on the sin of being naked. It is now tighter and hopefully a better poem. This next poem has also been changed, you can read the last version here.

 “Never, ever, put bread on the fire.”

My mother was adamant about this

“Not even two day old stale crusts

because you’re feeding the Devil.”

In winter she would burn vegetable peelings

they would smoulder on the coals

deprive the room of heat.

I used to wonder about the menu in Hell

whether Satan longed for a soft white barm cake

Again the last line has been removed. There was some discussion as to whether there was a need for food critics or if it weakened the overall poem. Apparently barm cake is now correctly spelled.

Here's Chris Cleverly, the sharp eyed amongst you may spot me in the crowd.

Until next time.