This poem though. Isn’t it just perfect for a sunny February day. How can a poem of so few words conjure so much? And isn’t that the absolute thrill of poetry ✨
That really is the thrill of poetry - to conjure so much in a few words. It always amazes me. I loved the poem you shared. Such a wonderful poem for today.
A beautiful poem to capture this space. It’s certainly providing inspiration for new poems to form. I love how your poem speaks of this delicate process. Wonderful.
Ooo, I love this. I like the idea of words for us to find rather than summoning them, I love the feeling of them having autonomy of allowing us to choose them.
That is going to be a stunning poem! I've had a reasonable week writing wise. I've spent some time on my new business venture (scary) some time making a new poetry film (invigorating) and some time reading (The Color Purple). I wrote this poem last week, after a prompt about hedgehogs!
My mother , the hedgehog
The apron and mob cap
attract the domesticity keeps her
safe. And yes she knows it is not true
representation of the hedgehog but
she loves them. Pin black eyes glint understanding
I really like it when a poem marries things together that I’d never really imagined marrying. And poetry films do indeed sound rather marvellous. I made a video (by no means a film) of a children’s poem I wrote once and it added a whole new (enjoyable) dimension. I’ll be heading over x
Hi Kathryn, thanks for sharing your poem - her unseen children's children, treats she gathers on her spines. Ooh I love it. It also makes me smile is "Mrs Tiggywinkle" is a nickname I sometimes call my mum.
A poetry film sounds amazing! Do keep us informed.
I loved your words ❤️ the mugs she’ll keep for best and the unseen children’s children really resonated with me. I do think about the future babies sometimes, when my current babies feel hard to care for 😅 I look forward to filling them with food and love and memories and having the energy of many full nights sleeps to do so
Thanks Zoe! I'm very much feeling my way with poetry film - I do feel each one is a little better than the last so that's progress of some sort 😆 They're all on my Substack Words and Pictures - new one will be posted today (I hope!)
Oh I have loved reading all these poems in the comments. Well done everyone, just beautiful to be a part of this and hear from you all. Nelly I loved " Speed-date shells until you find one to pocket". Do share the final version!
I've read a lot of poetry this week, joined a "poetry in pjs" zoom ft Harry Baker, bought his first book (had only read his second one) and scribbled a few poems of my own. Thanks again for having me!
“Speed-dating sea shells” was my favorite part too! Such a fun image for something we all find ourselves doing on the beach. Loved the scrap Nelly, it was beautiful!
I’ve not really written anything as such but this came to me just as I was drifting off a few nights after Archer had called for us a few times (bad cough/cold so poor sleep) - it obviously needs more and maybe tweaking but sharing is caring right 🤞
I have had a week, my partner in crime when it comes to writing and poetry was taken in to the ICU last week. She is still there very poorly but they are on top of her condition now, waiting for the good there doing to kick in and a recovery process to start. But because of the shock and the grief of its hard to think about other things. And also she was my writing buddy and my cheerleader and support I’ve felt a bit lost. But having you guys here talking about your poems has helped me feel less alone. I’m thinking of writing 8 part poem on friendship as Ive thought a lot about that this week. Looking for tomorrow prompt too. I have a weeks retreat this week so hopefully have time for a poem or two. I have used my feelings to write my friend poetry that I’ll share with her someday I think.
Oh Mamie I’m so sorry. What a week you must have had and are still having. So glad they are looking after her. A friendship poem sounds lovely. As does the idea of writing poetry you might show her one day. Go gentle on yourself though. If it helps, write. If it doesn’t, don’t. We are here either way x
Thank you for creating this space and your kind words of encouragement. When I a few moments I find that I’m thinking in poetry. I think this might be my guide in helping me to process all that’s gone on. I love it also that I can sit in community and just be as others write around me, knowing that’s okay to.
I know exactly what you mean. And when I’m “thinking in poetry” I think (hope) that means opening ourselves up to experiencing it all. Whatever it all is. Yes, your place on the sofa is most definitely here x
Nelly, this is lovely (your beach poem beginnings and your enthusiasm to bring us along).
I found the poem hard to understand (and I always get a bit frustrated thinking “did they write this to sound lofty or did it genuinely need to be like this!)” but I LOVED the prompt.
I’ve written something - a series of statements (which I guess poetry can be!). I didn’t write about any places but chose to write about observations on society’s double standards...
*Eight ways to look at parents*
He’s such a hands-on Dad.
She’s got her hands full…bitten off more than she can chew.
He’s decisive, what a leader.
She’s bossy and hysterical.
He took time out of work to see his kid’s assembly, how amazing.
She’s late…and what is she wearing?
He picks the kids up from school on a Friday, he’s so involved!
She’s missing out on their childhood.
He’s doing his best at the supermarket, bless his heart.
She should make him a list.
He’s so good at maintaining his hobbies.
She needs to be better at self care - like treating herself to some getting ready time.
He’s looking so dignified as he ages, what a silver fox.
She’s let herself go, still hasn’t lost the baby weight.
He called his ageing parents last week, what a thoughtful guy
She needs to keep those kids under control while food shopping for her Mum.
Love this style - statements that can later be expanded into verses or kept as they are for impact. I’m a big fan of statements. And this verse 👉 ‘He’s so good at maintaining his hobbies.
She needs to be better at self care - like treating herself to some getting ready time.’ I still say thank you when I’m given time to have a proper, hair wash & dry shower!!!!
I love the poem by Joy Sullivan. It beautifully describes what poetry brings into my life. I thought the start of your poem Nelly was wonderful. A brilliantly observed moment on a beach. I felt all the grains of sand. I look forward to reading the final poem.
I did have a think about the prompt and had an idea. But haven’t had the capacity to write it this week. I might try jotting something down later or at the weekend. A poem comes in its own time. It’s been lovely to read everyone’s poems here. I enjoy seeing what everyone has created during the week.
Zoe… this is a masterclass in and of itself. Every stanza, jaw-dropping. And what a great surprise to see you utilize the 4a & b stanzas and the flow between the 5 & 6th.
Wow such a brilliant poem to capture Motherhood. It really resonated. I love how it ends with the line “in that mess you see a glimmer of something pure.” It very much encapsulates Motherhood.
Absolutely love the Joy Sullivan poem. Cos yes, exactly! And your poem Nelly, will be epic.
I didn’t manage the prompt this week, a lack of spoons in the main and the fact I didn’t connect with the poem. I don’t know why so much, it just seemed odd, and I disliked the structure. I tried in my head but couldn’t get any words onto paper. I got a first line or two and then got stuck. I did write a silly poem whilst watching R (husband) and J (son) playing chess. I use the enforced quiet time to write, I don’t really watch them.
Anthropomorphised
Are you dead pen? Dying?
You don’t seem well.
Rationing your ink is mean.
I can barely see you,
more indentation than coloured line.
I keep writing in the hope you may revive.
But the ink continues to lessen.
I may need to rub a pencil all over the page
to see what I've written.
I'd like to say you served me well
but the cartridge is still half full.
Are you a traitor instead, trying to stop my flow?
I enjoyed reading your poem. I never would have thought about writing a poem about a dying pen. But you did it really well. It made me smile. I will no doubt think about it when I’m next writing with a problematic pen.
It as green, I love interchanging green with purple when writing from different ideas, makes it easier on read back. I have fond another green but it isn’t as nice a pen. But you can never buy too much stationary right?
I am so loving Poetry Pals - thank you for giving us this space, Nelly! 100 poems feels overwhelming until I look at it over time. One poem scrawled down is one more I didn’t have the courage to try before! Practices that are just that - practice (not perfection: note to self) - are where we experience growth and I’m looking forward to looking back in a year’s time!
I really wrestled with this week’s prompt because I was editing before I even put pen to paper. *Must. Write. Epic. Poem*. Sheesh. But I finally worked out a version that is closer to where I wanted to go. I loved Matthew Caley’s imagery and adjective use and kept that in mind while writing. Thoughts and critique welcome.
Thank you, Katie. I so appreciate your feedback! As I was writing I found it was begging for a structured rhythm but needed to let it go so I could actually get any words on paper. I think I'd like to return to it now that there's no time frame to finish anything and see if I can honour the cadence that kept coming up.
Oh it just got better and better. “The lush vulnerability of an unprotected forest floor” , dreamy. The egg verse too. I actually wondered if it held its own without that title. Was it even better without it? But then I really like the idea of different ways to look at strength. So now I’m unsure. writing my musings incase they are helpful.
And agree entirely about the 100. We are just playing here. It will be so good to look back and hopefully see our progress. I like what you said about wanting to think about imagery and adjectives because you liked that he did that well. In future I am going to make the same sort of notes to remind myself before starting. Thank you x
Appreciate the musings! Very valid question about the title... hmm, do you think that you would have seen the play on strength without it?
And yes! I start the week with your prompt and writing down observations of the poem(s) you share, hoping to glean a little from every poet. This is just such a wonderful space, Nelly. Thank you, again.
Hmm I don’t know. Maybe second time round. Leave it a while and come back to it? I always find upon that first (second) reading I tend to know if something isn’t quite right. Do you? It’s a really great poem!
Worry set hard like cement was the line that got me too. It really does describe that fear so well. How nice to have been able to return to that cafe a year on and reflect and scribble. I’m glad you got to do that x
Thank you Nelly cultivating this space! It feels so welcoming, creative, and joyful. Speaking of, I love Joy Sullivan’s poem. As someone who is just starting to write poetry, it resonated so much with me…I’m starting to see the world in a whole new way and it’s a beautiful shift💕 I did write a bit this week but didn’t have a chance to play with the writing prompt. I’m loving reading what others did with it though!
It’s just a whole different gaze upon the world isn’t it. Thank you so much for being here. Even if you don’t write, or don’t use the prompt, I’m hoping just being here will keep things sparking xx
Ok Poetry Pals, here are my scribbles from this week. Context: February is a big month for me, the month my first born made his entrance and this Feb my second born starts nursery. It just so happens that I had a scary 12 week scan with her last Feb. And there is a cafe // country park that I park at near to the hospital where I have sat many Februarys processing big life things and it’s where I went to sit today after I dropped off the littlest at nursery for the first time and this is what I scribbled 👇 Not a poem yet but there’s a kernel of an idea in there, I can feel it ✨
February 2nd. Imbolc.
Honour Brigid the Celtic Goddess of poetry,
Attempt to write a tender, hopeful poem.
Weave together the stories from the same month from the same cafe. Come on a journey with me. Know how far I’ve come. Feel what I felt. February is a pivotal month.
Feb 2nd (2020) your due date. Feel expansive, trusting, everything in its own time. Chat to wise older lady who calms me. She gave birth 3 weeks (?) over due at home, and all was fine. Take it as a good omen.
Feb 7th (2020) 1cm dilated. Excitement. Trepidation. Adrenaline. Try to get labour going. Lunge around woods. What am I doing? How is this going to end? Deep breath. Here we go.
Feb (2022) Single magpie along woodland path. Bad omen. Sit in cafe, alone. Fear-beating-heart. Lump in throat. Process the information. High-risk of downs-syndrome. Further tests needed. Order something sweet, to distract from the bitter thoughts? Impossible. Worry set hard like cement.
Feb (2023) Sunlit morning. Agitated. Your first session at nursery. All that worry. All that risk. All those aspirins I had to take. And here you are, bouncing in my lap, all giggles and sunbeams.
Katie, I held my breath until “sunbeams”! Thank you for sharing this. There’s something incredibly freeing in your honest thoughts - and I want to take this with me next time (ahem, probably on Monday with the next prompt!) I’m wrestling with trying to get the words out. Your notes feel poetic themselves.
This poem though. Isn’t it just perfect for a sunny February day. How can a poem of so few words conjure so much? And isn’t that the absolute thrill of poetry ✨
On A Train
The book I’ve been reading
rests on my knee. You sleep.
It’s beautiful out there -
fields, little lakes and winter trees
in February sunlight,
every car park a shining mosaic.
Long radiant minutes,
your hand in my hand,
still warm, still warm.
Wendy Cope
Oh this is a beaut isn’t it. So flaming simple. (But actually so not simple to pull off 🤣)
That really is the thrill of poetry - to conjure so much in a few words. It always amazes me. I loved the poem you shared. Such a wonderful poem for today.
Beginning
I’m finding words
like breadcrumbs dropped on a path
left for me to find
leading me
to a place barely imagined
even as it is longed for
I’m finding words
like feathers scattered in the wind
they float around me
tickling my mind
JoBe
This is my feeling about being here.
Oh yes. Oh absolutely yes.
Ah I love this. Finding not forcing words as they co-exist with and wait for us 🤍
A beautiful poem to capture this space. It’s certainly providing inspiration for new poems to form. I love how your poem speaks of this delicate process. Wonderful.
Ooo, I love this. I like the idea of words for us to find rather than summoning them, I love the feeling of them having autonomy of allowing us to choose them.
Hi Nelly,
That is going to be a stunning poem! I've had a reasonable week writing wise. I've spent some time on my new business venture (scary) some time making a new poetry film (invigorating) and some time reading (The Color Purple). I wrote this poem last week, after a prompt about hedgehogs!
My mother , the hedgehog
The apron and mob cap
attract the domesticity keeps her
safe. And yes she knows it is not true
representation of the hedgehog but
she loves them. Pin black eyes glint understanding
from greetings cards, mugs she’ll keep
for best. An expression of unthreatening
sisterhood, dressed with flowers. The thank you
that she really, really,
really doesn’t need.
She dreams of her nest, her unseen
children’s children stretch hard to
greet her, eager for the treats she
gathers on her spines. You’ve got to spoil them
haven’t you.
Kathryn Anna Marshall
I really like it when a poem marries things together that I’d never really imagined marrying. And poetry films do indeed sound rather marvellous. I made a video (by no means a film) of a children’s poem I wrote once and it added a whole new (enjoyable) dimension. I’ll be heading over x
Look forward to hearing what you think !
Hi Kathryn, thanks for sharing your poem - her unseen children's children, treats she gathers on her spines. Ooh I love it. It also makes me smile is "Mrs Tiggywinkle" is a nickname I sometimes call my mum.
Thank you!
The poetry film sounds intriguing. I will have to take a look. I very much enjoyed reading your poem here.
Thank you 🙏
A poetry film sounds amazing! Do keep us informed.
I loved your words ❤️ the mugs she’ll keep for best and the unseen children’s children really resonated with me. I do think about the future babies sometimes, when my current babies feel hard to care for 😅 I look forward to filling them with food and love and memories and having the energy of many full nights sleeps to do so
Ooo, a poetry film, how interesting, I am intrigued.
Immediately saw Mrs Tiggywinkle in my head busying around her kitchen. The image of reaching grandchildren too - wonderful.
Thanks Zoe! I'm very much feeling my way with poetry film - I do feel each one is a little better than the last so that's progress of some sort 😆 They're all on my Substack Words and Pictures - new one will be posted today (I hope!)
Oh yey 🥰 I’ll keep an eye out 🙏
Oh, this is lovely, Kathryn!
I am so, so happy to have found this group!
Isn’t it joyous x
I’m glad you found us, and I’m glad I found you,
Oh I have loved reading all these poems in the comments. Well done everyone, just beautiful to be a part of this and hear from you all. Nelly I loved " Speed-date shells until you find one to pocket". Do share the final version!
I've read a lot of poetry this week, joined a "poetry in pjs" zoom ft Harry Baker, bought his first book (had only read his second one) and scribbled a few poems of my own. Thanks again for having me!
And thank you. I will share it, maybe, hopefully 🤣
Ooh please do share a fave Harry Baker poem with us when you’ve read on!
“Speed-dating sea shells” was my favorite part too! Such a fun image for something we all find ourselves doing on the beach. Loved the scrap Nelly, it was beautiful!
I’ve not really written anything as such but this came to me just as I was drifting off a few nights after Archer had called for us a few times (bad cough/cold so poor sleep) - it obviously needs more and maybe tweaking but sharing is caring right 🤞
We always come when you call,
Just as we did when you cried.
Still sometimes wearily,
Still sometimes tired & begrudgingly.
But you know when you need us,
We will come …
What a knowing to behold.
Isn’t it just! That total and utter security ❤️
I have had a week, my partner in crime when it comes to writing and poetry was taken in to the ICU last week. She is still there very poorly but they are on top of her condition now, waiting for the good there doing to kick in and a recovery process to start. But because of the shock and the grief of its hard to think about other things. And also she was my writing buddy and my cheerleader and support I’ve felt a bit lost. But having you guys here talking about your poems has helped me feel less alone. I’m thinking of writing 8 part poem on friendship as Ive thought a lot about that this week. Looking for tomorrow prompt too. I have a weeks retreat this week so hopefully have time for a poem or two. I have used my feelings to write my friend poetry that I’ll share with her someday I think.
Oh Mamie I’m so sorry. What a week you must have had and are still having. So glad they are looking after her. A friendship poem sounds lovely. As does the idea of writing poetry you might show her one day. Go gentle on yourself though. If it helps, write. If it doesn’t, don’t. We are here either way x
Thank you for creating this space and your kind words of encouragement. When I a few moments I find that I’m thinking in poetry. I think this might be my guide in helping me to process all that’s gone on. I love it also that I can sit in community and just be as others write around me, knowing that’s okay to.
I know exactly what you mean. And when I’m “thinking in poetry” I think (hope) that means opening ourselves up to experiencing it all. Whatever it all is. Yes, your place on the sofa is most definitely here x
Nelly, this is lovely (your beach poem beginnings and your enthusiasm to bring us along).
I found the poem hard to understand (and I always get a bit frustrated thinking “did they write this to sound lofty or did it genuinely need to be like this!)” but I LOVED the prompt.
I’ve written something - a series of statements (which I guess poetry can be!). I didn’t write about any places but chose to write about observations on society’s double standards...
*Eight ways to look at parents*
He’s such a hands-on Dad.
She’s got her hands full…bitten off more than she can chew.
He’s decisive, what a leader.
She’s bossy and hysterical.
He took time out of work to see his kid’s assembly, how amazing.
She’s late…and what is she wearing?
He picks the kids up from school on a Friday, he’s so involved!
She’s missing out on their childhood.
He’s doing his best at the supermarket, bless his heart.
She should make him a list.
He’s so good at maintaining his hobbies.
She needs to be better at self care - like treating herself to some getting ready time.
He’s looking so dignified as he ages, what a silver fox.
She’s let herself go, still hasn’t lost the baby weight.
He called his ageing parents last week, what a thoughtful guy
She needs to keep those kids under control while food shopping for her Mum.
Ha, I LOVE this. ‘She’s late…and what is she wearing”. Omg this is so true. All of it, so rage inducing and true. 👏
Was hard to contain it to ‘eight ways.’ Number nine didn’t make the cut but would be:
His feelings are facts
Her facts are feelings
Oh the verse 9. So true.
Love this style - statements that can later be expanded into verses or kept as they are for impact. I’m a big fan of statements. And this verse 👉 ‘He’s so good at maintaining his hobbies.
She needs to be better at self care - like treating herself to some getting ready time.’ I still say thank you when I’m given time to have a proper, hair wash & dry shower!!!!
The rage 😅 I love it 🙏❤️
I especially had a good chuckle at “she should make him a list.” Double standards, indeed!
I love the poem by Joy Sullivan. It beautifully describes what poetry brings into my life. I thought the start of your poem Nelly was wonderful. A brilliantly observed moment on a beach. I felt all the grains of sand. I look forward to reading the final poem.
I did have a think about the prompt and had an idea. But haven’t had the capacity to write it this week. I might try jotting something down later or at the weekend. A poem comes in its own time. It’s been lovely to read everyone’s poems here. I enjoy seeing what everyone has created during the week.
An idea is a wonderful thing 💎
“A poem comes in its own time” 🤍
Oh I had not heard of Joy Sullivan 🤩 I love this poem!
And I love this space - honestly, thank you so much.
I woke up today so excited for this letter ❤️
This is what I wrote this week -
Eight ways of looking at Motherhood
1.
From afar, like grandma, you swoop
in all sweets and gifts and smile
and laugh and complain about
the dust on the TV stand. Everyone riled
up with overexcitement or frustration before
you swoop out, again. Til next time.
The floor needs hoovering again now.
2.
Imagine yourself a statue
tall and cold and stoic - you stand
still and unmoving and yet
no-one will notice. Not so long as the toast
continues to appear on the dining room table
and the milk flows from the overbearing
nipple. We are all fine. Everyone is all fine.
3.
Close up. In sunshine. With everyone laughing
and splashing paddling pool puddles
in the air. You laugh loud and remember
you had forgotten that sound. It sounds like
magic and candy-floss memories of another
little girl in another time. An aeroplane carves
space through the vast blue sky and your mouth
is as wide as the hot blazing sun. The baby
gurgles pure love and you remember you are
a Goddess of creation. All powerful. Magnificent.
Like the ruby-studded rose bush. You gather ice
pops and sit in a pile of love on the deckchair.
4a.
Read Holly McNish’s ‘Nobody Told Me’ and know all there is to know.
Almost. Mostly. Know that you never were
alone. When you have finished, check the outline
of her ‘Mother to a pre-teen’ self. Trace it
with your fingertip and see that she is still
there. Find solace in her continued existence.
Wallow.
4b.
An ankle deep paddle. Just dip your toe in and
be careful not to slip on the rocks and fall
head first. You fell head first. It didn’t feel
this impossibly difficult when you wrangled
your sisters kids, past bedtime and left
in the taxi after one glass of wine.
5.
Skinny-dipping. Bare and exposed. Your bra and pants lost
across the hospital room floor before you tore
your body wide open -
exposed, raw, fluid aghast - is that one body
or two and when
will the outline of yourself
return. Lost with the bra and the pants - you search
to no avail. That woman, she died
with a great sadness but do not
mourn for too long without looking
carefully in the mirror at the wondrous creations
left in her wake. She was born
6.
anew. A stranger, of sorts, you must now go
about the challenging task of reacquainting
yourself with your own face - with the soft rolls
of your new tummy and the hard taut skin of
your breasts. Milk filled wonder. You inherited
that past-you’s smile when you let it fill
your face up on the odd occasion. You swim
in the love filled ocean of your cluttered living room.
Deep, deep. You are diving too deep.
7.
The one rule is ‘everything ends’.
You store their ringlets in a box under the bed and weep.
8.
This is the bottom. With the lost Lego parts
and the cheerio’s you can’t be certain
you ate this week. You feel as though
this might be the end now. But you can’t
be certain so you sit. Quietly in the murky
depths of sleep deprivation and endless rounds
of winding the bobbin and somewhere
in that mess you see
a glimmer of something pure.
Zoe, I got goosebumps. I’m coming back to read it again. It ends so perfectly too!!! And I love knowing that you look forward to Friday poetry too ❤️
This is gorgeous! Thank you for sharing
Yes! Love this. “Skinny-dipping. Bare and exposed. Your bra and pants lost
across the hospital room floor before you tore
your body wide open”
and “reacquainting
yourself with your own face” 👌👌
Zoe… this is a masterclass in and of itself. Every stanza, jaw-dropping. And what a great surprise to see you utilize the 4a & b stanzas and the flow between the 5 & 6th.
Thank you 🙏
Wow such a brilliant poem to capture Motherhood. It really resonated. I love how it ends with the line “in that mess you see a glimmer of something pure.” It very much encapsulates Motherhood.
Thank you 🙏
You got that so well. I loved it 🥰
Thank you 🙏
Love this. The cafe that has been a landmark to so many of your life landmarks. It’s very special and really honours women - women are amazing!
Absolutely love the Joy Sullivan poem. Cos yes, exactly! And your poem Nelly, will be epic.
I didn’t manage the prompt this week, a lack of spoons in the main and the fact I didn’t connect with the poem. I don’t know why so much, it just seemed odd, and I disliked the structure. I tried in my head but couldn’t get any words onto paper. I got a first line or two and then got stuck. I did write a silly poem whilst watching R (husband) and J (son) playing chess. I use the enforced quiet time to write, I don’t really watch them.
Anthropomorphised
Are you dead pen? Dying?
You don’t seem well.
Rationing your ink is mean.
I can barely see you,
more indentation than coloured line.
I keep writing in the hope you may revive.
But the ink continues to lessen.
I may need to rub a pencil all over the page
to see what I've written.
I'd like to say you served me well
but the cartridge is still half full.
Are you a traitor instead, trying to stop my flow?
It's not that bad, your purple brethren
is happy to take over your task.
Okay, in the bin you go.
Nothing heavy, or meaningful, just silliness.
This put a smile on my face 😊
Ha! This is wonderful, Tamsin!
I enjoyed reading your poem. I never would have thought about writing a poem about a dying pen. But you did it really well. It made me smile. I will no doubt think about it when I’m next writing with a problematic pen.
I loved reading this poem. I also like to hang onto barely visible but favourite pens 😆
It as green, I love interchanging green with purple when writing from different ideas, makes it easier on read back. I have fond another green but it isn’t as nice a pen. But you can never buy too much stationary right?
I am so loving Poetry Pals - thank you for giving us this space, Nelly! 100 poems feels overwhelming until I look at it over time. One poem scrawled down is one more I didn’t have the courage to try before! Practices that are just that - practice (not perfection: note to self) - are where we experience growth and I’m looking forward to looking back in a year’s time!
I really wrestled with this week’s prompt because I was editing before I even put pen to paper. *Must. Write. Epic. Poem*. Sheesh. But I finally worked out a version that is closer to where I wanted to go. I loved Matthew Caley’s imagery and adjective use and kept that in mind while writing. Thoughts and critique welcome.
Eight Ways of Looking at Strength
Give me the calming current
of a trickling mountain creek
shaping forming over time
surrendered to the ebb and flow.
Give me the exposed branches
of an outstretched trembling aspen
so my leaves may quiver with the breeze
release in every autumn.
Give me the lush vulnerability
of an unprotected forest floor
a soft bed for rejuvenation
once laid bare and fallow.
Give me the thin skin
of a newly hen-laid egg
may my walls be a shelter
for life and growth and peace.
Give me the intricate webbing skills
of an acrobatic spider
building silky glassine tightropes
to catch the morning light.
Give me the fleeting pastel arch
of a reflected beaming rainbow
collecting the finest mist
to kiss the clouds with promise.
Give me the sensitive petals
of a delicate wild rose
may my face turn toward the sun
perfumed in due season.
Give me the tender wings
of a sweet singing warbler
teaching this body to fly
with feathers on a fragile frame.
Hi Erin. Thanks for sharing. Love these 2 verses 👇
Give me the thin skin
of a newly hen-laid egg
may my walls be a shelter
for life and growth and peace.
[I like the rhythm and the alteration]
Give me the sensitive petals
of a delicate wild rose
may my face turn toward the sun
perfumed in due season.
[This verse visually made sense to me like I could see a face turning towards the sun with sensitive, delicate, perfumed skin]
Thank you, Katie. I so appreciate your feedback! As I was writing I found it was begging for a structured rhythm but needed to let it go so I could actually get any words on paper. I think I'd like to return to it now that there's no time frame to finish anything and see if I can honour the cadence that kept coming up.
Yes, it’s like some of the verses are too wordy and some of the verses just flow better. I do not have the technical language to describe any better 😅
Oh it just got better and better. “The lush vulnerability of an unprotected forest floor” , dreamy. The egg verse too. I actually wondered if it held its own without that title. Was it even better without it? But then I really like the idea of different ways to look at strength. So now I’m unsure. writing my musings incase they are helpful.
And agree entirely about the 100. We are just playing here. It will be so good to look back and hopefully see our progress. I like what you said about wanting to think about imagery and adjectives because you liked that he did that well. In future I am going to make the same sort of notes to remind myself before starting. Thank you x
Appreciate the musings! Very valid question about the title... hmm, do you think that you would have seen the play on strength without it?
And yes! I start the week with your prompt and writing down observations of the poem(s) you share, hoping to glean a little from every poet. This is just such a wonderful space, Nelly. Thank you, again.
Hmm I don’t know. Maybe second time round. Leave it a while and come back to it? I always find upon that first (second) reading I tend to know if something isn’t quite right. Do you? It’s a really great poem!
This is just beautiful. So beautiful. Thank you for sharing 🙏✨❤️
Thank you so much, Zoe.
Worry set hard like cement was the line that got me too. It really does describe that fear so well. How nice to have been able to return to that cafe a year on and reflect and scribble. I’m glad you got to do that x
Thank you Nelly cultivating this space! It feels so welcoming, creative, and joyful. Speaking of, I love Joy Sullivan’s poem. As someone who is just starting to write poetry, it resonated so much with me…I’m starting to see the world in a whole new way and it’s a beautiful shift💕 I did write a bit this week but didn’t have a chance to play with the writing prompt. I’m loving reading what others did with it though!
It’s just a whole different gaze upon the world isn’t it. Thank you so much for being here. Even if you don’t write, or don’t use the prompt, I’m hoping just being here will keep things sparking xx
Ok Poetry Pals, here are my scribbles from this week. Context: February is a big month for me, the month my first born made his entrance and this Feb my second born starts nursery. It just so happens that I had a scary 12 week scan with her last Feb. And there is a cafe // country park that I park at near to the hospital where I have sat many Februarys processing big life things and it’s where I went to sit today after I dropped off the littlest at nursery for the first time and this is what I scribbled 👇 Not a poem yet but there’s a kernel of an idea in there, I can feel it ✨
February 2nd. Imbolc.
Honour Brigid the Celtic Goddess of poetry,
Attempt to write a tender, hopeful poem.
Weave together the stories from the same month from the same cafe. Come on a journey with me. Know how far I’ve come. Feel what I felt. February is a pivotal month.
Feb 2nd (2020) your due date. Feel expansive, trusting, everything in its own time. Chat to wise older lady who calms me. She gave birth 3 weeks (?) over due at home, and all was fine. Take it as a good omen.
Feb 7th (2020) 1cm dilated. Excitement. Trepidation. Adrenaline. Try to get labour going. Lunge around woods. What am I doing? How is this going to end? Deep breath. Here we go.
Feb (2022) Single magpie along woodland path. Bad omen. Sit in cafe, alone. Fear-beating-heart. Lump in throat. Process the information. High-risk of downs-syndrome. Further tests needed. Order something sweet, to distract from the bitter thoughts? Impossible. Worry set hard like cement.
Feb (2023) Sunlit morning. Agitated. Your first session at nursery. All that worry. All that risk. All those aspirins I had to take. And here you are, bouncing in my lap, all giggles and sunbeams.
Oo, I remember the stress of scary scans and blood tests. And the worry that sets in your soul until the second they are born.
Love that you’ve got the cafe as the thread that runs through it all.
Love this. The cafe that has been a landmark to so many of your life landmarks. It’s very special and really honours women - women are amazing!
👆(I put this comment in a random place above rather than here - just noticed. Sorry it got lost!)
Ah, thanks for re-posting here 😊
‘Worry set hard like cement’
I had a hard time with my second and I really felt this poem ❤️ thank you 🙏
Katie, I held my breath until “sunbeams”! Thank you for sharing this. There’s something incredibly freeing in your honest thoughts - and I want to take this with me next time (ahem, probably on Monday with the next prompt!) I’m wrestling with trying to get the words out. Your notes feel poetic themselves.
Thanks for this message Erin. I do tend to write poetic notes and then never actually go back to them and thrash out ‘the poem’ you know what I mean?