Poetry

Even though I've submitted my second TMA the course continues to rumble on and I am knee deep in poetry at the moment. Glorious bonkers poetry.  Now it just so happens that I used to write poems horribly naive poems of teenaged indulgence.

It is weird putting poetry to the forefront of my mind again, I feel like I'm squeezing back into skin I've not used in an awfully long time. I've started drafting three different poems this week and it feels like I've been working muscles I've not used in aeons.

I was tidying up my office/geekspace at home yesterday to tidy away some xmas decs when I paused at my poetry shelf. (Yep studied literature long enough to amass a shelf of poetry) and flicked through some old favourites. All the annotations that I used to make and it was weird, I was that person am I still?

I'm certainly fond of poetry, in a free verse ignore the rules kind of way but I'm not sure if it is who I am now.  The course book lists some ways of generating poems which feel clunky and I'm not sure if I'm generating anything worthwhile.

But on the flipside, it's fun and it is a different way of working, if I could write prose in the same picky way, contrstructing and crafting on a micro level it would drive me mad, but in a 12 line poem it is something else.

Well here's a draft of a poem I wrote today.

Between Two Nowheres

There is a rock, cragged old granite,
Fissures deep and wider than two fingers.
Heavy it dominates the plain.

The sky is open here, a dialogue
of weather converses with the land
Shaping and changing it like opinions
And reasoning win arguments.

Place a hand on the ground flat
Palm down, absorb the resonance
Slow throbbing vibrations, a gong
Last hit millennia ago still reverberating.

There is a path, nothing official
No signs or stiles or steps
Just the memory of a thousand feet
Taking a thousand more steps.