Sylvia Path’s Mother (or, A Tree in Spring Time)

I was reminded recently of acrostic poems.  I had flashbacks to a classroom in my village primary school writing poems about autumn on orange paper.  It filled me with a kind of dread.  But it’s a useful tool for playing with words.  

I was watching A Poet’s Guide to Britain about Sylvia Plath.  And then there was a clip with her mother, who’s name was Aurelia.  It seemed like a very pleasing combination of letters so I wrote it down the left hand side of the paper and then added some words.  My aim was to keep hold of this moment of inspiration and so I scribbled very quickly without too much thought so the results are rather rough.  Unfortunately in my haste, I did mis-spell her name…  But the point for me isn’t the word down the side, it’s the letters which give you a starting point.  That, and the fact I actually paused iplayer and got off the sofa to do something creative.

A Tree in Spring Time

Apple white blossom

Under intoxicating life

Radiates inspiration.

Experience this

Intensity and 

Let your heart beat

A little faster.


A reminder to myself

One of the links I’ve had on my ‘to read’ list was How To Read A Poem (part of a series) and is well worth a look at, or at least worth adding to your ‘to read’ list!  The website looks like it has lots of interesting things on but there was a particular article which caught my eye.  It details three ways of creating poems from others’ words and links to a blog post with a lovely couple of examples of found poetry.

This post is mostly a reminder to myself to revisit these links.

i’m trying the ‘stealing things from twitter’ approach with newspapers.  So Sunday morning saw me looking at the Guardian from the day before with a pen in hand, picking out interesting articles and selecting words and phrases to add to my notebook.  Then at a later date, with fresh eyes, I went back and tried to write.  I seem to be getting better at editing.  I wrote last night, tweaked it a bit at the time.  I went back to my notebook to type it up and amended it.  And I edited it as I typed it up.  It’s interesting (and hopefully positive) as when I used to write I would very very rarely edit.  The words would be written and that was that.

The following is from ‘The battle to eliminate FGM is long, but it’s one we must win‘.

Smiling and dancing

Drums beat
Voices sing

& louder

Prevent the screaming
From offending

Crimes committed against
Blindfolded girls

Cut to preserve
Cut to control
Cut to stop.


For the past few weeks I have been writing down fragments of poetry.  Hopefully I will revisit them at a later day and make them whole.  These are my own words, not words stolen from others.  I’m hoping that by putting them here, they will have a place to rest until I can do something with them.  The alternative is that they will haunt me until they are complete.

At risk of flight
I clip my wings

Wearing words from others
Weaving them into myself

Mind spinning circles
Round a body
Fighting to 

toes cling to cliff
edges and i try
not to breathe

crawl toward the horizon
then rest
in the vanishing point

The gate keeper of thoughts
Has left his post unattended
Rogue voices creep in

If I write the script
Will you play your part
& speak the words
I need to hear

Her soul has been
Hollowed out
Leaving a shell
Waiting to collapse
In on itself

Remaining within the comfort zone

People tend to talk about the comfort zone as something you should be aiming to leave.  I disagree.  Sometimes you need that space.  So in that vein, I have more twitter poetry:

Emergency scribbles
Discover ideas
Recover feelings

Days spent hunting
Dreams in the sea
Poems in a notebook
Acceptance in woodlands

A full time poet

I do have plans to stop stealing other people’s tweets, just not today.  Maybe tomorrow I will feel around the edge of my comfort zone.

Wearing words from others

I am wearing words from others
I am weaving them into myself

An amazingly talented friend of mine @HopeGraceFury frequently inspires me.  She writes beautiful, moving tweets which I used to create this:

Battle warrior
Hero of ancient Greek myth
Epic daily fight
For Utopian dream

Astonishingly jubilant
Soul dead
Brain dead

Spin the coin till
Two sides blur

Handwritten letters
Show all calling points.

The purpose of this blog is to document my writing, to make it something I do consciously and to keep me grounded.  Writing using other people’s words is a very good way of doing this.  However, alongside this conscious attempt I am struggling with words and phrases passing through me, uninvited.  I’m torn.  This means that I am slowly unlocking the part of me which writes.  But it is happening without my control and that, for me, is very dangerous.  It also defeats the point of doing this.

I see… I feel… I hear…

I saw something somewhere which said write everything that you can see down.  It said it more elegantly but the idea lodged itself somewhere inside of me.  I’ve tried this technique a couple of times and it seems to be a good way for me to stay grounded whilst trying to capture a place.

I split my page into three and write the following, one per third:

I see…

I feel…

I hear…

I then collect words and phrases and leave them for a couple of days.  When I return to them with fresh eyes, it’s much easier to see new ideas and fresh images.  I then start assembling them.

For Denis, who spent many happy days in this park

Breeze rippling over lake.
Ducks callling newborns,
Break the water’s patterns.

Children’s calls grasp at paper,
Snippets of play
Against the twinkly tune.

Leaves dance,
Feet pound,
Keys jangle,
The park’s choreography.

Wistful eyes
Close, and faint
Seaside echoes
Pass through.

Wind whispers storm warnings.
Denis alone keeps watch.