Friday 18 November 2022


An interesting week. The tory clowns have come up with a forecast of a £60 billion black hole in the national finances. It's their latest wheeze to make the poor pay more than the rich. JK Galbraith once said that "economic forecasting is there to make astrology look good."  But this has not stopped them from delivering one punitive budget after another. They have screwed up the economy and deprived public services of money for the last twelve years, it is a disgrace. Honestly, they must think we are stupid, hell, we probably are Brexit happened. 

I've been working my way through a copy of The Goat Island Workbook [thanks Sharon]. It was produced in 1996 for a theatre company as a springboard for developing performances. I am using each exercise as a writing prompt. This poem is in response to an Impossible Task: Tie a knot in a rope of water.

How to Tie a Knot in a Rope of Water

there is a second

when the mop bucket's contents

after being slung into the air

seems to just hang ignorant of gravity

in that moment you could mould the water

into any fantastic shape you pleased

if only you were quick enough

were it not for the belly flop

slap! on the crazy paving

did you know that every time this happens

the molecules sigh

dreaming of when they are clouds

and this sort of thing is effortless

You may have noticed that my poetry often deals with water, as a topic, a metaphor, or a location. I suspect it is because I live by the sea these days. 

There was also an invitation to: lick a church steeple, which, thanks to my dyslexia I read as like a church steeple. I came up with this.

like a steeple in autumn

as the trees begin to shed

or the billowed lanteen sail

of the ship that’s in your head

I think it works as an opening stanza, but at the moment, the rest of the poem eludes me. 

Womack & Womack have been in my head all week. Here's an ace old tune.

And this is 65 minutes of them live.

Until next time.

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