I received my
copies of my new poetry book on Saturday Blessed
by Magpies, it is now out there
in the big world of books. If I am honest it feels like an anticlimax. The
process began over a year ago and reached an ending when the postman handed me
a box of books. Please don’t think I’m
complaining I am not. I know I live a privileged life and I give thanks every
day.
In a way I know that
it is just the beginning, the ideas, images and metaphors have journeyed
from my head, via scribbles in notebooks to end up contained in a book. Each
smoke-ring idea fixed in words and fastened onto the page. This thought to
object process reminds me of the old days when you would have a roll of film
developed and you first look at the photographs to find split seconds of your
life frozen, recorded, some in focus, some blurred and the occasional classic composition
that makes the whole process worthwhile. The poems now begin their journey into other people's heads and lives.
So on to the
important stuff, you can buy the book from me, £10-post free, just drop me an email. From the
publisher (http://www.freewebs.com/lapwingpoetry/ ), if you have a kindle or similar device you can download it from
Lapwing or at Google (https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=ZWp2WQkEDg4C).
Here is the poem
which gave the book its title, actually it was the other way around. I had the
title but could not fit it into a poem until in creative writing class one
evening everything fell into place. The title of the poem is taken from a line
in an Edward Thomas poem.
THE UNFATHOMABLE DEEP FOREST
Edward Thomas
Tree-veined thought, leaf
wrought wonder,
Deep, cool roots, dream
The earth in slumber.
Gods conjure us in passing,
Shadow on their eyelids.
Brief as clouds in the
skies.
I shall step soundless with respect,
Blessed by magpies.
There are worse
ways of living your life. Continuing the magpie theme here’s another poem.
Magpie Maps
The magpies’ maps are not on paper,
They hang from certain synapses,
Motion/location tapestries.
They hold the history of her every heist:
These were the best times I stole
And the more secrt times
When she would simply look.
Every magpie has such treasure.
A gallery in each head,
Look closely, you may find your own.
Enjoy your week.
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