tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77260857571007495612024-03-28T04:54:35.760-07:00My Natural WorldHow I see it nowsue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-20353573622777015472024-03-15T03:18:00.000-07:002024-03-15T03:18:24.955-07:00Not there<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There's a place, I think - </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">a path, an avenue of trees,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and a church at the end</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and a graveyard</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and behind</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">there are fields that lead down to the sea</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and the light is glowing on the water</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and a boat moving slowly</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and there are birds</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">so tiny on the shore</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and the distant call of gulls</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and I'm walking</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and I'm still</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and I hear it</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and I feel it</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and it's where I want to be</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and am not.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">First published in Seaborne magazine</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-4412187985331082682024-03-09T06:50:00.000-08:002024-03-09T06:50:23.682-08:00Normality will return<p><span style="font-family: arial;">And those who were undervalued before</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">will be undervalued again.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">And those who were vulnerable before</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">will be vulnerable again.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">And the things we vowed to remember</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">we will forget.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">And the things we vowed to change</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">will be unchanged.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Normality will return</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">with all its inadequacies.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">And more people will lose the fight.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I've posted this before, but it seems right to post again this week, nationally and globally.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-27955864078888155772024-03-01T03:16:00.000-08:002024-03-01T03:16:40.259-08:00Too early, too late<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">It was only March</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">but already bees were on the blossom,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">blue tits were nesting,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">too many things were happening too soon.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">He said he'd heard it on the radio,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The Last Spring - by Grieg,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and I, thinking it a good thing to do,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">bought him the CD.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">We sat and listened to it together</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and he said nothing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Not thinking, I said it was beautiful</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and he said nothing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The days grew longer</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and the time shorter,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">the blossom faded</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and the blue tits left.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">When he died in May</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">then I knew what it was he didn't say.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">First published by Indigo Dreams Publishing</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-61834341035252966202024-02-25T01:50:00.000-08:002024-02-25T01:50:23.268-08:00Different versions of me<p><span style="font-family: arial;">I've been thinking about, and reading, poetry, rather than writing it, lately. I've been looking back at lots of my old poetry and wondering how I manage to have such an inconsistent style of writing. I didn't come up with an answer. Nor to the question why so many different types of my poetry have been published - and so many haven't. Right poem, right place, wrong poem, wrong place, rubbish poem, etc... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The following poem, which is unusual even for me, got accepted for publication, but I withdrew it after about 18 months of waiting for it to be published, because I was having a bit of a breakdown at the time and just got cross, which was unfair on the publisher (maybe?), but I couldn't deal with it then. I could resubmit it somewhere else, but I think it stands as good a chance of getting read here as it would anywhere else, so...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>The end of the world happened</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">in a hotel bar on the edge of somewhere</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">where a man of a certain age</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">had just been told, without a hint of irony,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">that he could check out any time he liked,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and having polished off the nuts</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and another double, decided</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">to say yes to the woman in the lipstick</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">the same shade his wife had worn before</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and knew for once he wouldn't have to pay</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">in a carpark outside a pub in Dungeness</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">where a woman of a certain age</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">had just been told, without a hint of irony,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">that she could check him out any time she liked,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and having had her cod and chips</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and Sex on the Beach, decided</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">to say no to the man who looked like</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">all the others and the shag on the shingles</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and settled for a fag on the edge of nowhere.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-89601602441176384902024-02-16T02:08:00.000-08:002024-02-16T02:08:15.391-08:00In the beginning (a child's puzzle)<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Dad: Look at this poem - what do you think?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Me: I think it's about love.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Mum: Poet emerges from fish?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Me: Keats.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Brother: What shape was Keats' DNA?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Me: A troubled Felix.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-71830180035061494662024-02-04T02:58:00.000-08:002024-02-04T02:58:19.280-08:00Frustration<p><span style="font-family: arial;">I wasn't going to write a post this week. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">It's been another week of frustration. Trying to fix the gas boiler - the hassle, the expense, the lack of resolution - 'a new one is a better option' - yes, if I happened to have that kind of money, which I don't. And then seeing what not having it working has done to the electricity bill which has just come in. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">And then trying to get a doctor's appointment, and a hospital appointment, and medicines, and any kind of comprehension of the stress that's causing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But then, I thought, as I'm already fuming, I'd write something about how annoying some tweets and posts are when it comes to poetry. Don't get me wrong - there are some open discussions about poetry - where people are genuinely asking for ideas, and discussions about a poem or a pamphlet which accept their subjectivity, and/or are descriptive rather than judgmental. And there are really supportive people out there too.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But the ones that make me angry are the ones where people don't just say what they think. They say, or imply very strongly, that they're right, and therefore everyone else is wrong. You don't like something - fine. Don't tell me I shouldn't like it. And vice versa. You don't think the form of the poem is right - fine. That's your opinion. It doesn't make it a fact. And so on.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">It's hard enough for people to put their work out into the world, or to try to connect, without being told that what they've said or done is wrong, when what is really the case is that one person's opinion differs from another's. Some things are facts. Some are just opinions. I wish people would remember that. And be kinder.</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-28766438572563184822024-01-28T02:52:00.000-08:002024-01-28T02:52:51.248-08:00Little things that matter<p><span style="font-family: arial;">There are two worlds, it would seem. There is the bigger world where all the news is bad, on a scale that we struggle to comprehend, let alone know what to do about, except protest. And there is the smaller world which is our individual life and the lives of those closest to us. And we struggle to deal with that too. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">And poetry takes on those struggles.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The struggles themselves are evoked, but always too, it seems, the clutching at something that could give hope. And those straws that are clutched at seem to be the little things - the touch of a hand, the texture of a rock, the sound of a bell, the smell and taste of food, the colours of a flower... so many possibilities.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But even these are ambivalent - because it can be the last touch of a hand, a rock that cuts, the bell that tolls, the food from a homeland long lost, a flower that is dying...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The daily rituals that provide some comfort can at the same time remind us of someone who is no longer with us to share those rituals. And nature, which everyone seems to turn to (or are, at least, encouraged to turn to), likewise holds sorrow as well as joy - the sea we used to walk to together, the erosion and destruction...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But so rarely does a poem seem to hold no hope. Despite the struggle, the feeling of powerlessness to change things, the losses, the poet seems to need something to hold onto - the moments, the little things that matter.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">And when I'm trying to find something to hold onto:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">blackbird's song at dawn</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">nature's continuity</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">blackbird's song at dusk</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But even then...</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-86779383134543595722024-01-18T03:31:00.000-08:002024-01-18T03:31:38.430-08:00<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">in chill morning sun</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">grass sparkles; banks of purple</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">lift above the sea;</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">oystercatcher's distant call:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">remember this was the dream</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><i>First published by Indigo Dreams Publishing</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-18957996541920859442024-01-14T01:56:00.000-08:002024-01-14T01:56:48.980-08:00Later<p><span style="font-family: arial;">You worry about what you've said to them,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">then you wonder if they worry about what you've said to them,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">then you worry about what they've said to you,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">then you wonder if they worry about what they've said to you.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Then, years later, out of the blue,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">they tell you they forgive you</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">for something you don't remember</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">you'd said to them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Then, later still, you realise</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">you didn't tell them that you don't forgive them</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">for the things they don't remember</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">they'd said to you.</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-73909692046356842272024-01-05T02:39:00.000-08:002024-01-05T02:39:12.521-08:00Sea star mass mortality event<p><span style="font-family: arial;">The sunflower</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">tore off its </span><span style="font-family: arial;">petals,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">the rainbow</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">slumped,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">the pink and purple </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">cut to white,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">the morning sun</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">melted</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and when night came</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">the stars</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">had lost their reflections.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></p><p><i style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">First published by Fly on the Wall Press</i></p><p><i style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br /></i></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Do you think this poem stands on its own (with title), or does it need a footnote with background info? Is there enough in the poem itself, or should there be more? I often wonder. It was published as is.</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-53504012716706436542023-12-28T03:21:00.000-08:002023-12-28T03:21:51.138-08:00Resolution(s)<p><span style="font-family: arial;">It's that time of year again.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Thinking about what might work for me. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Knowing what you want to do and doing it - commitment, persistence, courage, resilience...</span><span style="font-family: arial;">are things I admire but haven't always managed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I write - have written - a lot. Sometimes poetry, sometimes fiction, sometimes creative nonfiction... I want to say what's in my mind. I want to tell others about it - sometimes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I've talked about wanting to connect, and have belatedly discovered Kae Tempest's 'On Connection' which says so much of how I feel - and says it incredibly well. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There is more than one way to connect - Kae Tempest not only talks about it, but demonstrates it through their different forms of creative connection. And I want to do that too, in my own way.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I actually decided quite a while back what I wanted to do next - which is half the battle. And I've done the work - commitment, persistence. I'm just not sure I have the courage or resilience to let it out into the world. But I do want to connect, so...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Let's see if that works for me in the new year.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-19808050398304294892023-12-17T02:29:00.000-08:002023-12-17T02:29:11.811-08:00Soon<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">if not now, then soon;</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">there's a limit to the times</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">it will be all right</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">while the kestrel flies</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">there's hope; the silent sky sits</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">between life and death</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">still time to believe</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">there is a choice better than</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">sitting and waiting</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">still freedom to choose,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">while the kestrel waits above,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">to run one more time</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">the kestrel drops, stalls,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">sweeps away, hovers again;</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">if not now, then soon</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">(First published by Indigo Dreams Publishing)</span></div>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-73099009898276038672023-12-08T03:20:00.000-08:002023-12-09T02:35:10.899-08:00How to connect<p><span style="font-family: arial;">Picking up on recent blog posts by Lesley Wheeler <a href="http://lesleywheeler.org" target="_blank">lesleywheeler.org </a>and Matthew Stewart <a href="http://roguestrands.blogspot.com" target="_blank">roguestrands.blogspot.com</a> (but from a different angle), I wanted to talk about poetry and the use of social media to communicate/market it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">If you're trying to sell something, you're going to use every marketing strategy you know. That includes social media. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">If you have a product and you want/need to make money from it, then you need to sell hard and smart. There's so much competition, and, in these times of financial hardship, fewer people able to buy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">So far, so obvious.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But should poetry be part of that kind of marketing world?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Poets want their writing to be published - because that way it gets out into the world. Is that right? Or do they want the acclaim of being published? Social media is full of poets promoting their published work. Of course it is. We've all done it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">And there are a lot of poets and a lot of publishers, and they all want you to buy their books. There are many really good publishers who believe wholeheartedly in what they are publishing, and they want you to be able to read those works. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">But, in terms of poetry, they are trying to sell to a relatively small customer base, and that is dwindling in the current financial climate. Many are struggling. Some are offering discounts or special offers. Some have made provisions to ensure those with financial difficulties are still able to access their publications. Some are going under.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Why do we write poetry? Because we want to express how we feel? And, unless we're writing just for ourselves, surely it's because we want to communicate with others? To connect? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">If you're writing poetry to make big money, you're kidding yourself. Only a handful of poets will ever really make money from their poetry publications. So, if that's true, why is it marketed in the way it is?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There are other ways that you can get your poetry to people, that don't cost money - for you, a publisher, or the people you're trying to connect with. Online sites, free downloads, for example... and a lot of people are doing that one way or another.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Yes, you'll still need to tell people about it - and back comes social media - but think how many more people you could connect with if they didn't have to <i>buy</i> what you'd written. How much you would have opened this world to more people who currently don't see it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">No, I don't want to put out of business the wonderful people who produce poetry publications. There will still be a market for them. But I would like more people to have the opportunity to read all the kinds of poetry that are out there. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">And think how that would change your communication with people on social media. Not 'Buy this', but 'I would like to share this with you'. There are a lot of supportive people on social media and a lot of people who would like to join in. Let's help them. And help ourselves, too, to connect with people - more people than we currently can anyway.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I know it's more complex than this - but if we need a new take on things, and we do, then we need to look at new ways of connecting.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><u>Postscript</u></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I woke up screaming in the night (slight exaggeration), thinking that all the wonderful poets whose work I recommend will now be wondering what the heck I'm playing at. You can't say buy these books and then write the above. But I don't want people to stop buying books - if they can afford it. I know how much those books mean to those who, after years of writing and submitting and being rejected, finally get accepted, and then wait for ever to see the book out and in their hand. I just want other options to be available so that more can see what they've written. Some of the wonderful poets do have other ways that you can read their work too - and maybe that's the best of both worlds.</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-85440042197166739792023-12-03T03:10:00.000-08:002023-12-03T03:10:57.138-08:00Julie Stevens<p><span style="font-family: arial;">I have MS. Julie Stevens has MS. Facts.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I write poetry, but maybe surprisingly, I've only ever written one poem directly addressing MS. It's in a post below (the last I posted before I stopped blogging in 2022). I've written about it in other ways, but I'll come back to that another time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">MS is something that needs a voice. Julie Stevens is a poet who gives it that voice. You know that wonderful thing that happens when you read a poem and you think, yes, I understand, I feel like that. Well, if you've got MS and you read Julie's poems I think you'll feel like that. And if you haven't got MS, I think it will help you understand.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Sometimes I see a poem and think that really speaks to me. I don't think I've ever seen a poem and thought that really speaks <i>for</i> me. With Julie's poems, that's what I think. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">If you don't know her poetry, please try it. Her new book 'Step into the Dark' is now out, available from her website <a href="http://jumpingjulespoetry.com">jumpingjulespoetry.com</a> or from The Hedgehog Poetry Press. See the reviews - they'll give you even more reason to read it. Julie has MS, but more importantly, she is a wonderful poet.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-23236639233323538122023-11-26T01:39:00.000-08:002023-11-26T01:39:02.918-08:00Some days<div style="text-align: left;">Some days I don't want to go into life,</div><div style="text-align: left;">though the alarm is insistent,</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's easier to stay outside,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">close the eye-blinds,</div><div style="text-align: left;">turn off the ears,</div><div style="text-align: left;">stopper the scream,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">don't smell the smoke,</div><div style="text-align: left;">don't touch the flame,</div><div style="text-align: left;">don't taste the ash.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Some days I don't want to go into life,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but I write my name on my helmet,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and I go in anyway.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">(The inspiration for this came from a tweet/news item about firefighters being told to put their names on their helmets prior to tackling fires which they might not get out of - so they could be identified after.)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-47753851516730288002022-05-22T01:45:00.000-07:002022-05-22T01:45:57.931-07:00One of the things I wanted to say<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Bird with a damaged wing</b></span> </span></p><p><i style="font-family: arial;">We should help it. No, it's alright. Look, it's still moving.</i></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">In the early days, when MS was new to me, it was like a game of what comes next. I didn't know, nor did the experts, and the world at large was oblivious.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I was on a bus and my leg seized up. I was at the open door, couldn't move, passengers tutting, driver shouting, and I could have said I have MS, please help.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But I didn't. I threw myself forward and fell onto the pavement. No-one tried to help me, likely thinking I was drunk. It passed. I got up, limped off.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>But can it fly? I don't know. Does it have to?</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">First published in Under the Radar, Nine Arches Press</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-27756772494428358522022-05-20T04:52:00.000-07:002022-05-20T04:52:54.209-07:00Poetry and care<p><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm not sure what I want to say - or if I'm conflating two distinct issues here - but I know I'm angry about so many things at the moment. One of those things is the lack of respect for, understanding of, and funding of social care. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I worked in the voluntary sector in social care for many years, largely with older people and (informal) carers. Loss was an underlying, if not manifest, feature of the lives of those I worked with - loss of independence, health, dignity, and loss of self and/or a loved one. Some dealt with this calmly, positively even, some didn't. Most struggled to express how they were feeling, or kept quiet about it, but at some point, broke down in anger or tears. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There was a lot of 'I used to be able to... but now I can't.'</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Some people write poems about their experiences of disability, illness, loss of independence, or about their experiences of caring for and/or losing someone. Why? Because they want to express or understand how they're feeling? Because they want to be heard and understood? As a memorial to a loved one, or to the part of themselves they've lost? As a way of fighting back? As a way of grieving? As a way of saying 'I used to be... but now I'm not.'? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">We struggle with expressing how we feel - in life and in poetry. As a disabled, sick or cared for person, there may be a balancing act we try to sustain between wanting to still appear independent, positive, in control, and allowing ourselves to look vulnerable and say how bad we sometimes feel.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">As a carer, the balancing act may be between wanting to express that we care and love, and suppressing the frustration, resentment, guilt, we may sometimes feel.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There is a pressure to be positive, even when going through hell. Because positive people fight on, put on a brave face, smile through the tears, and are inspirational. If you say the pain is unbearable, the loss of dignity is destroying you, that you can't cope any more, then you're at risk of being seen as whining, weak... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm not suggesting that positivity is bad - it can provide comfort and hope to many, but it can, unintentionally, mask some very harsh realities and lessen people's perception that there are a very large number of people who really need help.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There are acclaimed poets who write about these things, and others - often carers - who make no claim to be poets, but write their feelings in poetic form - and both can help others to understand in their own way.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Where am I going with this? Can poetry make a difference? Can the personal show a broader truth? Can the personal be political? Not if poets and occasional writers of poems are not allowed to express how they're feeling because it's either seen as whinging or as not good poetry. If people who write poetry succumb to the pressures to be constantly positive, how will anyone ever know their truth? How will people know change is needed?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Because people need to know what it's like for people with disabilities and loss of independence and dignity (and all the conditions that require care), because if they don't we will continue to show the total lack of regard for them and for social care in this country which we are currently displaying. Social care is by no means the only issue that needs addressing - poverty, health care, mental health... are equally in need of attention. And poetry is obviously not the only, or the most important, way to change things, but it could be part of it. If we let it.</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-39044767288436457322022-05-06T02:05:00.000-07:002022-05-06T02:05:14.540-07:00Introduction <p> <span style="font-family: arial;">(after Billy Collins)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I think the poem speaks for itself. But for clarity:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">When I say 'I',</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I do not mean me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Except when I do.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Or when I didn't,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">but it turned out</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">it was me anyway.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Oh, and whether 'I' is me or not</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">does not mean any of the things</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">in the poem actually happened,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">or that if they did, that they happened to me,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">or to anyone in particular.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Though they probably did.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">So, for the record:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">'I' may not be telling the truth</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and this will be deliberate.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">This may be for the purposes</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">of a greater truth,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">or that I just don't want you to know the truth.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Anyway, I think the poem should be clear now.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">It's called 'Me'.</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-72911043888776833642022-04-29T01:58:00.000-07:002022-04-29T01:58:08.731-07:00The dangers of specifics and specifically the specifics of nature in poetry<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Let us take, for example:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I wandered lonely as a cloud</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">That floats on high o'er vales and hills,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">When all at once I saw a crowd,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">A host, of golden daffodils...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">This poem immediately demands the reader think about specifics - specifically specific ways of doing things, and daffodils.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">What are the problems with that? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Firstly, it prevents the reader exploring their own ideas of how, for example, to wander in a lonely manner, or what they might see when doing so.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">If one instead said:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I wandered lonely as a wandering lonely thing</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">A host of things you could see a host of</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">then the reader's imagination is allowed to run free inserting his or her own images as applicable to their own experience.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Even better:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I did something in the way I like doing it</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I could see what I wanted.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">thus not restricting them to wandering, being lonely, or seeing too many things at once.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Secondly, the nature question. These nature specifics - and they appear in an awful lot of poems - also exclude those readers who do not have access to 'nature'.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The city dweller is lucky if they've ever seen a vale or hill, and their knowledge of daffodils is likely to be either of that circle of yellow planted by the council on the concrete roundabout where the turn-off for Tesco is, or the drooping yellow things they've taken out of the green bucket outside the petrol station as a last minute present for Aunty Nora. These daffs are not dancing in the breeze - they're gasping for air. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">So what is this poem supposed to mean to these people?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">To sum up: such specifics limit the imagination of the reader and are also exclusive.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">While I'm at it, may I suggest that poets are a bit too obsessed with loneliness, solitude, lying on couches, and being vacant and pensive. They should get out there, get some mates, and get a life. And if they can't be bothered to get off the couch (ok, fair enough), at least watch something decent on Netflix.</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-43589290736096349122022-04-10T00:29:00.001-07:002022-04-10T00:29:38.812-07:00Villanellia<p><span style="font-family: arial;">You thought that you would try the villanelle.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The sonnet form just didn't work for you.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The villanelle has caught you in its spell.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Your free form was... too free, so what the hell,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">You thought that you would really turn the screw.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">You thought that you would try the villanelle.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">You confined yourself to your small writing cell.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">You thought that it might take a day or two.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The villanelle has caught you in its spell.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">You thought, at first, that it was going well.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">You thought it couldn't be that hard to do.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">You thought that you would try the villanelle.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The police were called because of the bad smell.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">All your efforts had just made you start to stew.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The villanelle has caught you in its spell.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm afraid that it's a sorry tale I tell.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Dylan Thomas, Auden, Bishop, Plath, they knew.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">You thought that you would try the villanelle.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But the villanelle's a bugger to do well.</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-15522396197159901592022-04-05T00:57:00.000-07:002022-04-05T00:57:49.339-07:00Waiting<p><span style="font-family: arial;">We are currently experiencing unprecedented call volumes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">You are currently number 4,535,472 in the queue.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">We expect to be able to answer your call within 2 to 10 years.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Alternatively, please visit our website which gives more information on how to proceed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">You should be aware, however, that due to excessive website traffic, our website may not be available at all times.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">If you have previously been notified that your classification is between 9.5 and 10 you may be able to apply for an appointment by phone or by using the appropriate online form.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">If your application meets the criteria specified, you will be notified of an appointment date at the earliest opportunity. Waiting time is currently between 2 and 10 years.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The situation for those with a classification of 9.4 or below is under review and the website will be updated to show any changes at the appropriate time. The outcome of the review is expected within 2 to 10 years. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Please note that your classification has been determined on the basis of information supplied to us by an appropriate person at some point within the last 2 to10 years. If you feel that the classification given was, or is now, incorrect, please apply for a review on the appropriate online form. Waiting time for these reviews is currently between 2 and 10 years.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Please also note that exceptions may be made to the above, but you will need to prove that you are one of the exceptions by producing a letter from an appropriate person, which you can apply for on the appropriate online form. Waiting time for response to these applications is currently between 2 and 10 years.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Alternatively, please enter your bank details on the appropriate online form.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">We would remind you that it is important that you apply, where eligible, as early as possible, for your own wellbeing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">In the meantime, please refer to the appropriate self-help pages on our website.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">In an emergency, please call 000. Response times are currently between 2 and 10 days. Alternatively, contact the appropriate local or national volunteer help centre.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">We apologise for any inconvenience and appreciate your patience at this time.</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-77292625677968594652022-03-28T03:58:00.000-07:002022-03-28T03:58:45.301-07:00Beowulf today<p><span style="font-family: arial;">I studied Beowulf at Leeds University over 40 years ago under Tom Shippey (worth looking up if you don't know who he is). Or, to be completely honest, I was young and nervous and sat watching this brilliant, unnerving, sexy man trying to enthuse us, while I tried to hide, comprehending little, and therefore missing a great chance to really appreciate this work - probably. Apart from Shippey himself, what I remember is struggling to understand Old English and hoping that we'd be given a clue as to what was going to come up in the exams. Which is not a great way to remember Beowulf.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">When it first came out, I read Seamus Heaney's Beowulf, but probably wasn't in the right place for it at the time. I've just re-read it and have finally found myself in the right place to appreciate it. I'm still not in a position to argue over the merits of reading this 'poetic translation' over reading the original. Heaney covers this in his introduction (as well as the experience of students studying it at university - I was not alone.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">What I have done this time is loved the language and the story, and seen how the best works transcend time, and in the following passage, I think you'll see what I mean:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">'A Geat woman too sang out in grief;</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">with hair bound up, she unburdened herself</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">of her worst fears, a wild litany</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">of nightmare and lament: her nation invaded,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">enemies on the rampage, bodies in piles,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">slavery and abasement. Heaven swallowed the smoke.'</span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-59114815353569791332022-03-14T04:19:00.038-07:002022-03-14T05:15:52.892-07:00How do you read a poem?<p><span style="font-family: arial;">There are hundreds of books, articles, courses, blogs, etc which address this question. There are also a large number of different, sometimes complementary, sometimes conflicting, answers.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The somewhat bizarre reason that I'm raising the question again now is a recent article in an established magazine about Philip Larkin, and something which, it is argued, impacted on his life and poetry. I found this on Twitter, and am not sure whether or not I'm glad I read it. I'm not giving a link, because you may not want to read it. (Except now you're really curious about it, aren't you?)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">So, does a poem stand isolated from its author, or from its historical and cultural background? Do you just read a poem and see what it means for you/how it makes you feel, or do you do a close reading of the poem, based entirely on the text in front of you (and, of course, your knowledge of prosody, etc), or do you look at it in the context of what you can find out about the poet, their background, the time, place, etc when/where it was written. (I'm not going to list all the possible factors that could influence the poet and the poem - I'm sure you know what I mean.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The question has been often raised about whether a poem should have explanatory notes, if for example, there are refs to Greek mythology, which not everyone may be familiar with, or whether it's up to the reader to make the effort to seek out that information, or whether the poem may well stand without that specific knowledge, or indeed, whether there should be references at all in a poem which the 'average' reader may not understand. No definitive answers on that question yet.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The question, based on the Philip Larkin article, could now become whether a poem should (also?) have explanatory notes that cover such biographical factors as may have affected the poem. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Of course, in many cases, this information already exists with the better known poets - in introductions to collections, or in separate biographies, etc. Most poets, when a poem or collection is published, supply some biographical info, even if it's only where they live and where else they've been published. Reviews and blurbs often go into more detail about, for example, disability, sexuality, culture, class, etc, but not the detail given in this article, as far as I know.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">So, to what extent, can or should, a poem stand alone? To what extent should the poem itself be able to convey its context, its intention? For example, I have mental health issues, which sometimes I want to explore in my writing, but sometimes it's just a background to my writing. Do I need to tell you that, or should whatever I write convey that, when it's relevant to do so? And when is it relevant? (Not here, for example.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Which leads, of course, to the poet's intention. What does the poet want to convey, and how best to do that? What can the poet assume about the reader, if anything? How much can you put in one poem, or even a collection, to convey everything you want to convey? How much do you leave to the reader to work out, or find out? And what, if like Larkin, probably, you don't want the reader to know, or maybe you do, but not explicitly? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Do you judge a poem by the poet? What if, as has happened to me, you've read a poem, and you think, wow, that's brilliant (or some more literary response than that) and then you find out the poet is really not the great person you hoped they'd be (or worse). Yes, people you may not like can actually write poems that you do like. Except now you know what the poet's like, it's ruined the poem for you (probably an exaggeration). I'm not suggesting this article on Larkin would have that effect. Whether you like or dislike Larkin's poems or the man, such as you know anything about him from what you've read - and don't forget biographies (and autobiographies) are selective/subjective too - this new 'fact' is, at the very least, likely to prove a distraction when reading the poems. Is that a good thing? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">You will gather I don't have the answers to these questions. I don't think anyone has. It's up to the individual, probably, to decide. But therein lies the difficulty - because people will often write or talk as if their view is right, rather than a suggestion, and also give you information that you didn't necessarily want (because it's impossible to completely block out this information - sorry). And, clearly, all of this can affect not just how you read a poem, but how you write one too. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-44211817643760506262022-01-24T07:32:00.231-08:002022-01-27T01:57:06.715-08:00Access to nature<p><span style="font-family: arial;">I watch the presenters on wildlife/nature programmes, walking through the empty countryside, enjoying the beautiful views, the flora and fauna, and I think: I want to be there - or at least out and about. Some people can get out into nature. Some can't. Access to nature is a topic covered in numerous articles and official papers and is a vast subject. This is just my view, doubtless coloured by how I feel right now. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">It's not a straightforward issue, because different people want different things, obviously. For example, how do we protect the feeling of actually being in nature? If everyone has access to nature and uses it, then you could find you've gone out into a crowd rather than into nature, unless you go somewhere really wild, and, oh yes, less accessible. Difficult to reconcile the two. There's also the issue of protecting nature, not damaging it, while out enjoying it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I am very lucky in that I live near the sea, on an island with wonderful habitats for nature, where, theoretically, I could walk for miles or just sit and observe. But I can't walk for miles - I have MS, my legs are not as strong as they were and I have real balance issues and can fall very easily. Many of the places I want to see I need a car to get to, and some places now charge for entry too. There are other issues as well, which I'll get to. But I'm still one of the lucky ones, because, with help, I can still get out and about, but oh, how nice it would be if I could do it on my own. Oh, and I have a small garden, so I can go there.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But large numbers of people don't have a garden, or a local green space, let alone access to nature reserves or the wide open spaces of the countryside. And if they can get there, will they be able to get about independently? Wheelchair users and people with disabilities of all kinds may find navigating open spaces difficult, if not impossible, on their own. Many places are not accessible by public transport and most places where you go by car, if you have one, now charge for parking and/or entry, so it's also a question of whether you can afford it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Women often don't feel safe alone on the streets. There is no good reason why they'd feel any safer in natural open spaces. You could go in a group - which can be great, if you're a group sort of person - but what if you're trying to get away from everyone and everything? You just want peace and quiet and nature. Some people like groups, some like crowds, but some want to be on their own, at least some of the time. And if you don't feel safe, you can't.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">It's also about feeling you belong. People from ethnic minorities are less likely, statistically, to go out to natural spaces. There are many reasons for this, but part of it is their feeling that they don't belong. I'm not equating them, but there are other ways too that you may not feel you belong. What if, for example, you're not an expert birder, or you haven't got the 'right gear', or you're not a dog-walker or cyclist, or you feel too old, too young...? There is no implied criticism of these 'categories', but when you go out somewhere, if you don't feel you 'fit' with others in that particular space, for whatever reason, you just may not feel comfortable. That's not to say there aren't lots of people and places which are friendly and welcoming to all, but you can't always know in advance what a place is like, and it can still be limiting. One bad experience can put you off. Again, it's about freedom for each person to experience nature in a way that feels safe and right for them. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">In terms of health benefits, it is now far more widely acknowledged that getting out into nature can be good for people suffering with some mental health problems, like anxiety and depression (and also for some people with certain physical conditions, and indeed, everyone), though, of course, it's just one of many things needed. And again, it's only any good if it's something people can access easily, freely and safely. Otherwise, it's still only available to those who have green spaces on their doorstep, or who can afford it, and/or have someone to take them and support them while they're there. If you suffer from anxiety, as I do, you may not want to be among other people that you don't know. If you suffer from depression, as I do, you may not feel better knowing you're dependent on someone else. When it works, it's great, and I would definitely endorse the idea of it, but it doesn't work for everyone all the time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Everybody's different. Everyone has their own circumstances to deal with. Like I said, I'm lucky in many ways - despite the issues I have, I can still get out and enjoy nature at times, even if it's not exactly as I would want to. So many people can't. And I really don't think that's getting any better. The need to invest in nature is an issue which is well-documented, but words aren't yet matched with sufficient action. We need also, I think, to ensure that the positive experience of being out in nature is preserved, and that all people can enjoy nature in a way which is right for them, without excluding, or being to the detriment of, others - and that means thinking about the needs of different people, enabling them as appropriate, increasing understanding, and looking at the difficulties that can arise - and that's a really major issue that will take a lot more thought, and action, to resolve. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085757100749561.post-14821254231529192722022-01-17T02:09:00.001-08:002022-01-17T02:17:57.150-08:00Birds and poetry<p><span style="font-family: arial;">I am pleased to be part of the feature on birds and poetry in the current issue of Bird Watching magazine, and to be able to share how and why birds play a part in my poems. The feature illustrates some of the many ways that birds can inspire, or appear in, poetry. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm not going to repeat what I said in the feature, but you can get some idea of my thoughts, if you want, from some of my earlier posts. Likewise, there are so many great poets who you could look to, if you wanted to see more bird poetry - see eg, my post, The poetry of birds - 30 March 2020. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">My own poems which feature birds vary enormously. Most typically, they are like the following poems, the first being the one in Bird Watching Magazine, the second published in Sarasvati, poetry magazine (Indigo Dreams Publishing) in 2018.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Common Redshank</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I will call across the mudflat</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and answer your call.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I will search with you along the tideline</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and flicker-fly with you when the sea returns.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But sometimes I will stand alone</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">at the end of a groyne as the waves lap round</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">and just stare out to sea.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>(untitled)</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">in chill morning sun</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">grass sparkles; banks of purple</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">lift above the sea;</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">oystercatcher's distant call:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">remember this was the dream</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Birds and poetry both play an important part in my life, so it's not surprising that they overlap at times. I hope that others will also find inspiration from birds or poetry, or maybe even both.</span></p><p><br /></p>sue.i.mnw.blogspot.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14516078157435972485noreply@blogger.com0