I recently participated in a Zoom poetry workshop with the Secret Poets. I came away with these two poems.
the sea strand
I could never piece together
these jumbled jigsawed sand grains
and here comes the sea
to chaos any illusion of order
I often walk on the beach at Oddicombe and imagine all the grains of sand rubbing along next to each other. I suppose if the poem is about anything it is our human desire to give the world an order we understand. If only we could...
This second poem relates to the bedroom I work in. I had just finished painting it when we did the workshop and one exercise set me thinking about the items in the room. I'm not sure what the American term for cling-film is, I've looked it up and it appears plastic wrap is the word.
notes from a nearly decorated bedroom
the cling-film sighs, resigned as it is to wrapping brushes
and so back to the staid darkness of the kitchen drawer
the paint scraper's blunted edge from increased labour
is content to dream, until it cuts again
the walls try out this new colour
uncertain, but with no choice
the wardrobe, the chest of drawers
and this table I write on, will welcome the quiet
Here's Chorale.
There's appears to be, in the words of Carl Rogers [and his brother Roy], a bit of conditional positive regard going on in the song.
Until next time.
There's appears to be, in the words of Carl Rogers [and his brother Roy], a bit of conditional positive regard going on in the song.
Until next time.
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