Monday 25 September 2017

Crab apples





Close autumn here.
Low sun burns on the crabs.

They load the tree
with a russet cancer,
leeched on wood
that will not leaf
when the long spring comes,

taste bitterly stripped
at a bite as white flesh writhes
where the worm draws back,
before cold harms,
before seed dies.


Sunday 17 September 2017

Heads and Tails


 


Books shower our lawn;
drawings of soldiers,
blood dotted as dice,
dropping from battlements
staggered by cannon,
have blown haphazard
about the bushes.

Pennies tip meanly
from the money-box.
Ice-cream, a week’s comics,
exist away from war.

One flashed coin
falls apart; is tossed,
spin heads, spin tails,
by the chancy king
of a world of books,
or grass, or blood.


Sunday 10 September 2017

Time to write: ‘Just About’ Poems


I suppose we’ve all written them, ‘just about OK’ poems, those based on a rising of, or sighting of, something of interest, not plonked in the depths of profundity, not necessarily many-layered with meanings, not unusual enough to register for a lifetime, not, perhaps, experimental or very exploratory, only those that somehow need to be written and crafted, even if never offered for publication. But are they worth keeping?

I feel so. I don’t see them as light, occasional poems, nor as practise poems. For me the former are usually flipped off, most often satires in meter and verse, often savagely political. Practise poems are where I’m trying out a new form, or subverting it, or being experimental in some way. I wouldn’t want them published, but do use lines from them in other poems: otherwise, they get scrapped, though I might keep the title and notes for a different poem on a similar theme.

What do the ‘just about’ ones contain? Most often, there’s one understated theme; mostly they’re in free verse. The poem below, “Looking Back,” is an example. Its only motif is an expression of what is gone and what still survives, pursued through a very visual observation of what was around me when living in Lincolnshire – a decaying maltings building and its grounds beyond the end of my garden and views of the hills beyond. Neither the trope nor the descriptive parts are highly original or striking. Though it was edited four or five times and some lines changed, I didn’t check it for meter or internal rhyme; in this case, those weren’t what I was after. Mostly, I was going for a simple statement in simple language. There was no attempt to raise the emotional pitch of its impact; the meaning and feeling either came through, or it didn’t. 

In sum, poems like this are usually quiet, relatively straightforward and are usually observational. While not great or strongly arresting, they have something to say and perhaps that something need not be extended to any great length or depth or cleverness of language, image, form or motif.

‘Just about’ poems have a use. They’re a base-line. I know, within a couple of drafts, when a poem I’ve written is better or worse than these. If they’re worse, like practise poems they’re gutted for what is salvageable and I reach for the rubbish bin for the rest; if better, then they’ve a life (and lots of editing) of their own. I need base-lines; they’re part of my post-writing assessment and editing process. They’ve changed and developed over the years, but I still keep to the ‘just about’ poems as useful guides to what is acceptable and what isn’t.