Right I am doing this wonderful event tonight https://www.facebook.com/events/528882803789379/ starts seven thirtyish at the lead station. I was ferreting about in my files in preparation and found I had hastily typed yet another poem from an Arran workshop and then done nothing to it. So I have had a bash at editing it into a broken sonnet (my usual form of fourteen lines and a volta and no other sonnet conventions) with an experimental twist. I will read it tonight mostly because I am not sure anyone in Manchester has heard it! This appears to have come from one of my workshops but I don’t appear to have written down what prompted it, I will add the process if it reappears.
I have seen no phone boxes this week and certainly no burnt ones
I have heard bagpipes and waves, an incongruous symphony sandwiching the silence
I cannot tell you if I have seen a gannet as I am the worst at identifying birds
I have found blackberries and raspberries
tricky to pick
I wasn’t all there by the sea toe nudging a burnt ring of seaweed.
Coming down from whiskey and lemonade
and slow shooting stars
you know what’ll hit you if you do that again.
Nothing can compare not even is my next lover is dangerous,
playing the part of the real trouble maker
I’d guard myself, make haste to disguise
what he didn’t know:
that he really moved me.