Time sets its layers as the years go by,
And yet it seems in Hastings cracks appear,
As if the past is constantly near by,
And history tries to break through its veneer.
And as the moon takes refuge in the cloud,
The sound of whispered voices on the shore,
I seek the shadows, keeping my head bowed,
For so it seems that Smugglers pass once more.
Or sounds of laughter carried on the breeze,
On picture postcard days, the weather fair,
I close my eyes and picture then with ease,
The Lords and Ladies come to take the air.
And as I stand, my face towards the spray
It feels as if the years are stripped away.
Delighted to say I’ve got two poems in this book, just published by Earlyworks Press, courtesy of being a runner up in their Comedy Competition.
Mother of teenager for sale
Condition – used
One less than careful owner.
Gentle handling required as liable to break down
therefore some assembly may be required.
Outer appearance acceptable although
may show signs of wear and tear.
Beneath the surface, optimism dented
and nerves frayed. Wits missing, believed lost.
Requires sensitive, sympathetic restoration.
Mother of teenager for sale
Condition – used.
Well….. I’m doing it! The lure of NaNoWriMo is just too much to ignore – so I’m ready for a month of hard work, fun, frustration, generally ignoring my family and friends etc. Really looking forward to it (I can’t actually believe I considered not doing it).
I can’t wait to get started now, but here in the meantime is a little poem – the beginning may be a little familiar….. Its a little early, of course, but I figure that I’ll be too busy on Friday to remember to post it!
National Novel Writing Month
November’s upon us, and all through the house,
Not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse.
– At least on first glance that’s the way it appears,
Til a sound, barely audible, reaches my ears,
A tapping, and muttering, repeated again,
What’s the cause of this discord, will someone explain?
So I creep to the door way, and peep through the gap,
And find there a Writer, computer on lap
Just typing and mumbling and typing some more,
And these are the words that I hear through the door:
‘I must reach my word count before I can sleep
But my ideas are muddled and random as sheep.
My fingers are aching, my coffee is cold,
And I’ve still got a story that’s only half told’.
And then I remember and all is quite clear
Its the first of November – NaNoWriMo is here!
I’ve done NaNoWriMo for the past two years but I’d decided I definitely wasn’t going to do it this year. I’ve been doing a Creative Writing course, plus I’ve been doing an ‘alternate chapter’ writing project with my friend, as well as being particularly busy at work and the thought of putting myself under a whole month of stress (however enjoyable it might be), just seemed silly.
But…. the writing project is virtually finished (I may have submitted my last chapter, or there may be just one more, depends on what my friend comes up with), and with the exception of the final assignment which I intend to spend the whole day on today, the course is finished.
I’ve been so looking forward to actually having the time to fiddle around with poetry, and to get down to a major (major, major) edit/rewrite of Dragons and Divas (complete with actual proper outlining this time round), but with two weeks to go until NaNo, I must admit I’m sorely tempted. If I spent two weeks outlining, rather than trying to pants it as I have previously, if I use my newly acquired spare time wisely, well its not impossible, but then I’ve been neglecting Dragons for far too long and I am genuinely excited about the rewrite, so……
I just don’t know at the moment.
I was absolutely delighted today to receive an e-mail to the effect that my poem ‘Gloria Golighty’ has been marked ‘Highly Commended’ in the Poem Pigeon ‘Feather’ competition. I’m not sure whether I can put the poem on here as well, but if you’d like to read it, just go to http://www.poempigeon.com/poem.php?uid=3836&
They should pay poets in words.
unused and untested,
unfrayed around the edges,
unfettered by common
pristine new words
to be laid out in neat rows
or just gazed at through
the cellophane, untouched
in case it affects