All entries for November 2006

November 25, 2006

Poetry, as threatened

Here’s the first salvo. These ‘animal’ poems may end up as a sequence under the working title of ‘The Forage Cap’. They may be released from captivity by animal rights activists.

Please tear them to shreds. The poems, that is. Not the activists.


Shrike

Call a harsh ‘chack’; song is a scratchy warble
catching my origins in a thicket of oak.
My passerine tact a mystery to the hawk.
A week in my wingspan is idle flit and hack;
my back’s bitter blood-bolt, the terse use of my beak
to keep my barbed-wire larder of corpses in stock.
No carrion-charmer, no falcon or red kite
I, peregrine, I pious in thought and act
am shriven in my little blood, my butcher’s reek.
In the wrack of my nest, in its bone-scree of voles and shrews
I am called to the questing retch of my home choir,
their eyrie-cry my kyrie eleison.


Jackdaws

A jackdaw sweet, this half-sucked cherry lollipop
is the exact size and shape of the Black Prince’s Ruby;
a tumbled garnet from the garnet mouth of a lover
set in its claw-mount of silver-black tarmac.
Craving the tacky circumstance of rapture,
jackdaws dream, love-nesting the Crown of State.
They search for their eye-metal. I mistake this for lust.
Whatever angel knew about satisfaction
clearly flew through the car parks in jackdaw form
before we were born, to teach other birds how to spit.


November 24, 2006

Opening Lines

Art begins, apparently, with resistance. This blog begins with resistance to work. Having finished yet another essay, I just can’t bring myself to proof read it. The delights of sitcom repeats on ABC and E4 for once do not appeal, and Earlsdon is experiencing ‘typical’ weather conditions. Shall I turn my hand to the washing up? Shall I mount an expedition to rediscover my bedroom floor, or identify that worrysome green substance near the base of the sink? Shall I say sod the weather and just go to the pub anyway?
No. I’ll start a blog, because there aren’t nearly enough students detailing exactly the same experiences already. Well, I’m committed now, so it would be impolite not to give a few words of introduction. My name is James. I’m a second year English Lit & Creative Writing student. Amongst other things I write, read and review poetry.This blog will be an unashamed piece of self-indulgence and self-publication. If this foreword and forewarning hasn’t caused you to groan inwardly (or groan outwardly, or retch a little), then read on and please call again. There is a great deal of proof reading out there to be avoided; my regular posting will probably reflect this.


November 2006

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