Introduction to poems

I write poems all the time, but publish haphazardly. The poem comes first and the creative process is so different and so much more interesting than the business of poetry – if it can be called that:

“After all, it’s rather a privilege
amid the affluent traffic
to serve this unpopular art which cannot be turned into
background noise for study
or hung as a status trophy by rising executives,
cannot ‘be done’ like Venice
or abridged like Tolstoy, but stubbornly still insists upon
being read or ignored.” W H Auden

It is a shame that this artform is so undervalued in developed counties where visual entertainment has taken priority. Poetry is still admired, recited and talked about in countries like Bangladesh and Arab speaking countries.

Poetry downstairs

Marking the Armistice

I am thinking of Bertrand Russell recently released from prison (as a conscientious objector) who was in the centre of London when the Armistice was announced. He wrote: ‘The crowd was frivolous still, and had learned nothing during the period of horror. . .’

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Protocols of light and water, March 17

When a sky sinks to float in the shallows
earth forgets the vibration of colour
and returns to some original state,
some kind of damp cloudy subtraction . . .

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The weight of availability poem and images from March 4

Back home viewing my handiwork with a casual flourish of the mouse, nine Black Swans appear flying south.

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Poets speak up to Adani – free e-book

The eastern horizon is still dark; the city to the north is alight in a complex transfer of power.
200 million years ago our star powered swamps whose plants and trees bequeathed their
remains, accumulating layers as peat.

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Eos ~ Sunday Morning, Feb 25

I turn my back once the sun comes up, concentrate on how stone and wood
work together . . .

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Two Boxing Day Poems

A weak form of the Capgras phenomenon and Double Drummers, Jagun

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Eos ~ three short poems

Eos wants to rewild my mind  . . .

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Where we live – three walks ~ poems and photographs

Where we live – three walks ~ poems and photographs  Wednesday Oct 4 The wood’s exhalation is palpable after two days of rain, after 4 months of dry, black bars slant shadow across the aqueous air. Above our heads a Golden Whistler sings from a rickety branch, his whole body vibrating urgently responding to a […]

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Oyster Creek Walk, October 6

orange trumpet flowers
from a mistletoe scatter the poem without end . . .

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John’s Walk

A Song Thrush introduces the entrance . . .

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Note: other audio poems in mp3 format are in Ears