Happy Christmas

Only later did I read of his love of YKB

Instead I wrapped presents
Read a poem by Derek Jarman
…fucking, fucking, fucking

I came with nothing
I was given nothing;
given nothing, but
the tongue-tied gift of love

A clear September night
on a quiet hilltop
sat, counting the stars
with tear filled eyes
blurring the darkness

I go with nothing
I gave everything;
gave everything, except
the tongue-tied gift of love

…fucking, fucking, fucking
a poem from myself the poet –
she unwrapped presents instead

Christopher’s booklist from Alford Manor Workshop

Yukio Mishima: Spring Snow (The sea of fertility) …I told Kri about this dream…dreams, memories, the sacred – they are all alike in that they are beyond our grasp
Chris Drury: Silent Spaces - An artist who works in the wilderness areas of the world building shelters
Poems for Shelter - The house that Jack Built – Alan Brownjohn – In this City
Jay Parinini: Why poetry matters – Place is crucial for Eliot
Gaston Bachelard: The poetics of space – A wonderful book that teaches you exactly what it says on the tin
John Lane: The spirit of silence – A tough and gentle book by an author who has sought out silence…silence brings us into touch with the inner depths which elude us in the hurly burly of our everyday lives
Carlos Domingoes: The paper house…the wall were crammed with enormous glass bookcases that stretched from floor to ceiling…a fable about the power of literature to steer our destinies
Paul Mathews: Sing me the Creation... Statement: Question: Exclamation: Command…everything that we say or write is bound to be one of these The best source book for creative writing exercises that I have come across by far…loads of leads
Bell & Magris: The creative writing coursebook…from the MA at UAE…a very workmanlike item for self study support

Alford Manor House Full Day Poetry Workshop

Following on from the success of Woody's Top Residential Lincolnshire Poets Paul Sutherland and Christopher Sanderson are hosting a full day way workshop in the inspirational setting of Alford Manor House. On Sunday December 6th from Ten while Four!

Slip away

Good heavens time fly's by

The reason I have been absent is due to the residential poetry retreat that Paul Sutherland and myself, and our friends from Louth Poetry Group, are going to be running at Woody's Top YHA in October (Tuesday 20th to Thursday 22nd to be precise).

In the exitemenet of those early spring shoots I took on the task of producing a website...a few weeeks later and the final draft is posted...it is as they say 'a learning' process.

Anyhow the creation of this piece of information electronica gave me some virtual and real satisfaction, you can see the results at: http://www.lincolnshirepoetry.co.uk

But it is time to get back to poetry, the BBC with their Poetry Season have done a brill job over the last few weeks, Robert Webb's journey around Lincolnshire (and Paris) where he beautifully exposed and welcomed us into both his world of Poetry and through Eliots Love Story of J Alfred Prufrock...it is on the BBC iplayer for a litttle while yet. Neither the sands of Skegness or the sunsets of Horncastle will ever feel the same again, thanks to Robert (and his wife for her intricate and delicate and boundful poem).

Latitude Festival (I have waxed lyrical about this, the best of festivals before and July 2009 sounds as though it will be an equally enormous cultural extravaganza)They are running a poetry competion, I'm sure you will find it on the web site: http://www.latitudefestival.co.uk/home/index.aspx

Yes that's right it is Ummagumma

Went to the poetry reading to listen to canadian poet & community bus driver Chris Pannel, bought his sensitive book ' Under Old Stars' from which I would recommend the poem Joe Read a few of my poems including

It was such a struggle to get him to say anything at all

Sweet and simple words
No more than to say
That he brought

All around him to tears
Simply by saying
How lucky he was to be in love

I cried then
And tears again yesterday
When I re-wrote the memory

What is it, why am I so soft
That a few words
Can turn me over

I ought once
To sob substantially
Flush out my ignominious frame

Before later in life
To go pleading
You see this is not a picture

Not a painting or a photograph
But a vessel, somewhere to place
The displaced teardrops

Belong

Thats the blood test done, results on Friday...not a great event to raise the spirits but wrote a couple of poems on wondering about place and where we feel to belong...it's a great word isn't it don't you think... belong, belong, belong...5.3 million google refs and from the oxford online dictionary it is... fit or be acceptable in a particular place or environment.

Lincolnshire CAZ

Caught The Doves on Later with Jools, Latitude festival will mean much more now; also the irrepressible Marianne, I have the album & would recommend. The concept of community poet is in the germination stage...and perhaps to pursue an involvement in the Lincolnshire CAZ to regenerate our coastal neighbourhoods

Lincolnshire's residential poetry retreat

Woody's Top is booked, the poetry residential retreat is thus set for October 20th to 22nd 2009...an inspirational location, communal cooking, bunks, billets and all sorts of poetry work to shop

Fen's and Dales

We went to Blankney Fen, you should be so lucky, we called at Tramps Cottage to talk about the forthcoming humanist wedding...Lincolnshire is an open county and then some; we drove back past the old airfield up through Horncastle to the Poacher's Hideaway...romance was there at every turn.

Hukai on the road

The Hukai concept was introduced by British poet Christopher Sanderson in 2009 in readiness for the Wolds Words festival in the October of that year.

Hukai’s consist of four lines, the first of which is always I remember. The last three lines of the Hukai are based on a real or fictional recollection which holds an ability to be universally visualised.

The Hukai Title is always Hukai followed by a six digit number (arranged in three pairs) with the authors initials preceding the number

Example

Hukai CS 00 00 01

I remember
Sling back stilettos
Naked bodies
Crawling up the wall

Hukai

Firecrackers and whirlwinds and the holidays not yet really started...life as a poet couldn't always be like this...the new idea might be called Hukai (poetry's answer to soundbites)

excited

It's in the germination stage but i'm in love with it already, will it be a poem or a book of poems or a novel or a film script for a great big silver screen...can't say any more at the moment, just watch the usual places

I remember
Our half-hearted attempt
To say goodbye
Ended behind the classroom door

Two wheels

Yesterday was our anniversary, we pushed the boat out a bit with a fine meal at the Livesey Arms, a little too much Kronenburg 1664 talked us into getting a cab back into town, to carry on the celebration with a bit of ACDC soundalikes at the Kings Arms. Kate bought an Electric Bike in Tadcaster...soon we shall be two two wheeled adventurers...but should I have the step through or the climb over cross bar...will the hip be up to it?

rss feed and all that

If you are reading this anywhere other than on the blog then some modicom of success has been achieved, but heaven knows how

Writer's commitment

The subsidence men have been and gone and told us that they are re-assured...
We will need to move out of this room...but hey poetry can be manipulated anywhere...these are simply minor disturbances that hit into our life...I am reading Murakami 'What I talk about when I talk about running' I allow myself to dwell into this philosophical vein, but I know myself as not able to make Murakami's commitments

more writing

That work stuff sure gets in the way, although sundays excuse for not posting was a combination of mediitation class and a minor hangover. Anyway back to it, even though I've been on a course with work I managed to rejoin a poetry website morewriting.co.uk that I was a member of before I went to Buxton...I do recall one all night session in Manchester and a poet called PenJen...no trade name this time its just me the real deal Christopher Sanderson...take a look http://www.morewriting.co.uk

beautiful blog

Vaughan Williams plays in the background, on a saturday morning when the weather, as my mum would have said 'doesn't know what to do' We had a good poetry group, Paul has won another prize, his sensitivity is boundless in the words. I woke thinking of the beauty of the solitary blogspace, where one is always alone, but soon the questions begin, am I shouting or am I crying?

apocalyptic apology

So here's me, an engineer (and poet) writing an apology, or make up note; from a nurse to a school administrator...life is full of surprises. The website stuff is coming together, hope you have chance to look. Tonight is Louth Poetry Group night and John is bringing cake.

Robed

Its a work at home day, on the computer by seven (in the morning)

Last night spent trying to fix internet for Kate, took an hour to find out BT had an area fault...was the time wasted...how best to start the fixes in future...

Also found out to join Monastic order you had to be:

• Practicising Roman Catholic for last two years
• Under 50
• Solvent

Its back to Buddhism for me then...although I do believe they also do some of that silent stuff, which is a bit of a worry

G or P

Didn't go to 'How do we know there is a G' meeting, instead put Vicki's G poems into a pamphlet and wrote my own G or Poetry poem.

Carrying on

I write this soon after waking: crunching cereal, sipping tea. The calm of yesterday has been buffeted by wind overnight, the wind is still with us. Yesterday evening we watched two programmes about the musician John Martyn...beautiful music but an angry and troubled man who didn't seem to find much peace, except with and through his music. The book of the moment is about the worth and value of poetry, it brings home the inadequacy of my own work in terms of the issues I don't tackle and my lack of depth in respect of the effort put into the work; much of my work is superficial, to do with presentation and distribution; too little to do with writing the poetry itself, but it is my course, I will follow this path for a while, certainly until the current projects are completed.

Sparkling uncut diamonds

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Warm winds
Cold museums
Yellow glazed baubles

Scoops of salt laden water

A wet tee shirt
Skip steps
Glasses of iced lemonade

Skin is its own free beauty

Rock pool diver
Bucket and spade
Hand held in tender hand

Time heals if you let it


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