Day 09 – sparkling + dires

I had an idea for today that I’d been contemplatively considering in the background for the past few days. In fact, by mid-afternoon, I’d finished a poem. A reasonably serviceable poem. That just didn’t do it for me. It didn’t work. It was too prosey or something. Too literal. Too didactic. Too first drifty. Decided to leave it for a couple of hours & revisit with a clear head.  Upon returning an hour ago I abandoned said previous draft & had this lovely simpler shape poem whipped off in about 20 minutes (chosen because I don’t normally do them, cos I think they’re a bit gimmicky; but after reading the always fabulous Jude Aquilina’s On a moon spiced night a couple of days ago, I realised if the content is right they can work).*

The Poetic Factoid was unexpected & chosen a result of about the second thing I saw on my news feed this morning.

*****

sparkling 

that snob 
who scoffed 
at bestsellers 
blithely mocked 
popular titles
just for being
too popular  
loudly claimed 
certain books 
were pure trash
& the readers 
of such books 
ignorant slobs
was me—once
i now
U
N
D
E
R
S
T
A
N
D
all reading is good if the book
makes the reader’s mind sparkle

*****

Day 09 – TIL the truth concerning dire predictions 

dire consequences

eagerly at my desk at 9am all ready to write 
any of the wrongs of the day that come my way

second webpage that pops up, the somewhat unpopular 
Game of Thrones guy George R.R. Martin announcing

— ie, he who began writing ASOIaF aka A Song of Ice and Fire
otherwise known as A Safari of Incest and Fighting

35 long summer-filled years ago but gave it up sometime
after cashing his fifth 10 million buck check from HBO —

that he’s contributed 1.5 million research dollars so he can hold 
the first dire wolf born in 10,000 years (cute pics at 6)

immediately I imagine all the ragetweets forthcoming:
“they re-invent dire wolves before you write the last book”

“he held a dire wolf before we held Winds of Winter
“T-Rexes will chase SUVs on a rainy night before we see WoW

& sure enough … #finishthefuckingbook




*I want to take a moment to acknowledge that the architecture for collectabilia: pet loves
from 3 days ago was also inspired by the way one of Jude’s poems was laid out.

[Street Fabric, 10; her visual poems Tree as Saviour 24 & Feet, 27]

Day 22 – thrones (& fame)

22 game-of-thrones NED.jpg

Working on a poem that I knew wouldn’t be finished till very close to midnight when I realised I hadn’t watched episode 2 of GOT yet!!! So abandoned other poem for now & played a quick found poem with GOT episode titles. Several versions made.

Of course, I had to make it harder by choosing only one title per season AND keeping them in the order they aired. This is the best of the bunch. It almost makes sense. No extra words added. Made by trying to choose the most memorable phrase from each season’s options.

*****

Game of Poems, iv

Winter Is Coming
What Is Dead May Never Die
And Now His Watch Is Ended
First of His Name
Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken
Blood of My Blood
Beyond the Wall
Winterfell


BONUS POEM: April 22, 2018

The past isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.
NOTE: edits made in 2019 to tighten a few phrases & tweak enjambment.

*****

Bunhill Fields Cemetery, London: another anticlimax

Bunyan gets a sepulchre, Defoe an obelisk.
yet your single flaking stone
isn’t even tickled by lush
London grass but choked
by drab pavers. not even here
the engraving says, your remains lie nearby.

the long imagined session
of cross-century communion
one bucolic spring afternoon
in a quaint ancient graveyard
turns out to be a rain splattered
overcoat complete with two hobos
drinking cheap wine   & spitting.

why keep gazing back to these
inconsequential prisons over
looked by tawdry two bedroom
apartments & cheap office blocks;
containing IT startups
here yesterday, gone later today;
surrounded by tiny tidy lives
daily gazing dispassionately
over a non-eternal resting place;

neither caring, nor knowing,
the wonderful Will you were 

22b blake grass.jpg