Bubbles

Dreams for dinner, pizza for bed,
Thoughts like lead and greasy edged,
All ideals dredged,
As the bubbles splatter, hopes scatter
Across the sticky floor and into cracks,
The backs of your hands red raw,
You stand upon the spindle,
Cry then fly,
Look back as we dwindle,
You catch my eye. You trip,
Those night eyes - blinded, slip
Closed again,
Always closed these days,
Visionless words from an expressionless face,
It was for you that I fell,
Forever and always falling,
You were calling me back
From a beautiful dream.

 This is a bit of an oddment - a rare case of collaboration. I'm not sure whether this is a case for or against team efforts in poetry. On the plus side it shows that poems really do grow from the strangest of places. Thanks again to Mr Hadfield.

Oops...

That's a long gap without posting. My apologies to any of my readers who've still stuck around.
So hello again. I shall try to avoid being such a rubbish blogger. Let's get going again with a shiny new poem. Not very seasonal but I promise it is recent.

Dryad

I always thought that autumn days were kind.
A golden cadence lights the evening sky.
Amid this blaze, I thought I would not mind,
The wind that howls through my,
Thin skin and frozen bones
And like a long-lost spirit, softly moans.

The bronzed corpses of leaves beneath my boots;
A carpet that crackles with curled up forms,
That lie among the thick and tangled roots.
Debris of seasons’ storms.
Love letters of the trees,
Carried trailing and listless on the breeze.

A rose by any other name?

You might have noticed that I've cut down the name of the blog a bit. The original title "Trailing Fingers in the Weeds was feeling a bit unwieldy. Anyway, I think I prefer it this way. You don't need to take a big breath before you can say it and I sound (slightly) less like a pretentious poet. I probably still am a pretentious poet but at least now I can pretend, ok?

If anyone thinks this is a travesty let me know (or indeed if you prefer it).

Gaping Gill

They lower me down on a rope
A rickety old chair
Deep into the bowels below the moors
There lay a dead body
Shaggy, sodden and splayed
She had fallen perhaps, from a crumbling edge
Had not seen where the ground gaped
Then a frantic cry
Falling
Dark and dank
And falling
Down

I hope she died at once
Did not lie broken for hours or days
Calling out to that circle of sky
But maybe I am wrong
Maybe the flood carried her
Long dead and gone
And left her softly on the stone
Laid her in the bowels of the earth
Where the walls rise up cathedral high
And I trespass on her resting place

A Belated Goodbye to 2011

I’ve been a bit slow putting together a new year’s post. I read the one for 2010 and thought I’d put together a similar list of things that I did in 2011. I found it hard to do the year justice I guess. But here for your enjoyment are some of the events of last year.

• Graduated from university
• Been on stage to receive a bouquet for a play I directed
• Went to a steampunk party
• Lay by the fire at Kynance Cove as the sun set
• Pole-danced to Queen
• Worked full-time like a real person
• Visited St Michael’s Mount
• Been on a Carnival Float
• Bought a new harp
• Had work Published in a Zine
• Travelled to Holland
• Been the best dressed pirate in town
• Been cast in a lead role
• Won a karaoke contest
• Rode on the Waltzer at the fair
• Had no memory of how I cut my knee after a night out
• Been the voice of an evil robot
• Followed a cat through Trebah gardens
• Sat in the library eating pizza and writing essays until early hours
• Made and modelled a poetry skirt
• Joined a choir 
• Successfully completed No Shave November
• Handed in two dissertations
• Cried to say goodbye to people I love
• Been on a radio show
• Seen a stage musical with puppets
• Celebrated Norway Day at the Norway Inn with a crowd of Norwegians

I suppose this is also the place to set down my resolutions.I'm not always a huge fan of big life changes as revolutions so instead I go for a few smaller things and hope one of them sticks so I can pat myself on the back.  Last year's were somewhat successful, so the aims for 2012 are:

• To write regularly
• To work hard to stay in touch with everyone who is important to me
• Find a job
• Try and make good use of my time (This means both being productive and making time to do things I genuinely enjoy rather than procrastinating indefinitely)
• Practice the harp more regularly

    



2011 was quite a big year for me and has brought a lot of changes. The end of uni has meant no longer being able to easily meet up with people who I'd grown used to spending the majority of my time with and in some cases living under the same roof. Thinking back over last year has meant I've been doing a lot reflecting. So here's my slightly late welcoming of 2012. Cheers to it being a good year. It's got some big boots to fill.

Chrismas wasn't white but I'm full of mince pies

First off I want to say a belated Merry Christmas. It’s been good this year. I think that’s mainly because I didn’t do a great deal but it’s a nice spending time with family kind of laziness. It’s also the only time of year when this happens:

This makes me incredibly happy

That’s port, spiced Christmas tea and Christmas cake. A pretty good summing up of Christmas atmosphere as it covers all the categories: warm, alcoholic, cinnamon, unhealthy, comforting and designed to make moving away from the sofa seem less tempting.

For me Christmas is about reminding yourself of all the good things in life. While of course that includes presents and eating too much, it also means simple things like spending time with family and catching up with old friends. It's a chance to put normal life on hold and concentrate on remembering why the little things are great. Above all, it's an excuse to get all mock-philosophical and drink port.