Tag Archives: poetry

It’s Dull and it Features Soup

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Don’t say you weren’t warned . . .

As part of my new start I have reorganised my folders to make my writing more efficient. It nearly as useless as reorganising my sock drawer but it’s all about small changes at the moment. I’m hoping that a few small changes will be enough to give me a start.

There are two soups simmering on the hob. It will be mushroom tonight and spicy carrot and parsnip for several lunches. From this you can probably work out which vegetables are in plentiful supply. It looks like vegetable stew tomorrow too.

I’ve returned to my roots today (literally, in the case of the soup) and am looking at “ordinary” poems today. There are too many rules to writing haiku and the like and I’m feeling more relaxed now. I think I’ve covered this subject before. So many rules, so much “guidance”, so many editors laying down the law. In the end you think more about the rules than the words.

It’s just  a temporary thing until I adjust my thinking. I’ve allowed myself to get lost in a maze of other people’s making. It’s a funny thing, but the editors who have the most to say about what a haibun should be, are ones for whom I have little respect as poets. They are the ones that cause me the problems. The other dozen I deal with are all excellent individuals who are always ready to help.

It’s just human nature that I have become hung up on the others.

Even after a break of just a few days I’m already starting to plan a return to haibun. However, with well over 100 published Japanese style poems published, I don’t have to worry about publication. I can worry about writing well. (Note that I will still be worrying whatever happens). The problem came when I was worrying about quality and about being published. It would be nice to do both, but more relaxing just to write for enjoyment.

It’s a bit like my WP experience. It would be nice to write a popular blog which led on to fame and fortune, but it’s quite nice just to be able to write one and exchange comments with a loyal band of readers who don’t mind multiple blog posts about soup and my dislike of modern life. Success is not about fame and fortune, it’s about learning that Maine is the best State (or so Laurie tells me) and that a flying bird of the day is an essential part of the day.

Carrot & Ginger Soup

Carrot & Ginger Soup

Running out of Steam

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At the moment, I feel a bit empty and devoid of inspiration (see my last post).. After days of worry and effort I decided not to submit anything this month because I didn’t have much to show poeope, and what I did have didn’t seem very good. There’s no law that says I have to submit every month, so I relaxed. For a few hours I felt much more creative, but after that the difficulties returned.

Unfortunately, I’ve been doing less and less over the last couple of years, particularly the last few months. In fact, this is the second time in four months I have decided not to submit anything. At first I put it down to Covid and the infection I had a month before Covid (I always forget the actual name, but I managed to struggle through that.

The current problem is, I think, that I am trying too hard. I’m worried that I need to up the quality and it is making it harder to write. Plus, as I worry about quality, my internal editor kicks in and things I would have considered acceptable now seem sub-standard.

It’s like the pottery students.

I’m sure I’ve told this one before, so sorry if you remember it. As I get older I ramble more and repeat myself. It’s an internet story, so it probably isn’t true. Even if it is true I doubt they would be able to do it these days.

Anyway . . .

A lecturer told half his pottery students that their marks for the year wo0uld be based on the weight of pottery they produced. No mention of quality, subject or technique – just weight. He told the other half that their marks would be based on them making one superb pot.

Guess which group produced the highest quality pot? That’s right, the ones who had been told they would be awarded marks based on weight.

It seems they set to, producing pots in a relaxed manner and, concentrating on quantity, became good potters because of they gained a lot of experience. The other group, trying for one perfect pot, never managed to work to the full extent of their abilities because they over-thought it.

I used to work by throwing words onto paper and then shaping what I ended up with. I always had work to submit and it seemed to be OK as plenty was published. Now that I try to write better poetry, with more technique and complexity, I am finding it much harder and nothing much seems to measure up.

Tomorrow I am going to clear out a lot of my work in progress and then I’m going back to my old ways – lots of words and less self-criticism. Let’s see what happens.

Monday Off and a Freewheeling Mind

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I don’t know if it happens in America but on UK Quiz Shows they often ask contestants about themselves instead of getting on with the questions. And the contestants seem, these days, to find it almost impossible to answer without starting “So . . .”

It’s something I have noticed over the last few years. I assume that either they didn’t do it a few years ago, or that I didn’t notice it. It is very irritating. To start “Err . . .”  as the brain picks up speed is human frailty, but starting “So . . .” just signals membership of a pervasive fellowship of irritating TV contestants.

Talking of irritants, I see that there has been a large number of complaints about bad language an episode of Love Island. I would have thought that the language was one of the least offensive things about the show. I’ve only seen clips of it on Gogglebox but the concept, the contestants and the general level of conversation is all dreadful too. Coming from a man who watches a TV programme about watching people watching TV, this concern with quality content may seem out of character, but I assure you, I do have standards. They are low standards, and Love Island fails to meet them.

I will leave you with a couple of poems. They were first published in Eucalypt 33.

the letter
from the lawyers
on the mat
lit by a sunbeam
—floating dust

that morning
in the coffee bar
I had no plans
to meet my one true love
—you said the seat was free

They could be reversed and read as a pair, I suppose, but that’s not how they were written. As the exotic beauty of the second poem has just given me a coffee and two fig rolls for elevenses approximately 42 years after the events described in the poem, there have clearly been no lawyers involved. For the sake of accuracy, may I add that there was a mutual friend sitting at the table too, I am not the sort of suave lounge lizard who finds it easy to approach strange women in coffee bars.

Coconut macaroons and hilarity in Bakewell. Can you see a theme developing?

The Same Old Trap

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Sorry, I have let things drift over the last few days. I need a plan. This is, of course, the same thing you have heard me say over and over, hence the title, so won’t be a surprise, or a revelation of much importance. I have a few days off next week so I will make myself a plan for the rest of the year. Things seem to go better with plans. I should have that made into wall paper for the ceiling of my bedroom so I can indoctrinate myself each morning as I wake up.

I have probably covered my great planning success for junior rugby several years ago, when I sat down, planned and actually carried out more work than I have ever managed before or since. Same goes for my great poetry plan a few years ago. It seemed to work. It may work again this year. I am going to set a half day aside to do some planning. Of course, I will then have a decision to make – whether to keep it secret so that nobody knows if I fail, or to announce it to make it harder for me to fall short. Both plans have their merits.

I follow the SMART Model, which is . . . er . . . Something, Measurable, Something, Something and Timely.  The “T” is hard to fit in to the general plan. If I can’t remember what it all stands for this could be more of a problem than I was thinking. Looking it up I find it is Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Timely/Time-Bound. As I said, it’s hard fitting in the “T”.

The process starts with me saying I must start planning tomorrow and proceeds as I write out some sheets with space for times and targets. Then the fun begins when I start making up numbers to fit. They have to be higher than the ones I am already achieving, but not so high that they prove impossible. I’ve had 22 poems accepted  in the last six months, but am faltering at the moment. I need to plan for another 33 in the next nine months just to keep the average going.  It’s already looking like hard work . . .

When all else fails, turn to cake!

 

Old Age and Brainpower

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As usual, there is much to write about, and, as usual, I’ve forgotten most of it.

I know there was something interesting to tell you, and a few other things that weren’t quite so riveting. Ah well, they say the first two signs of old age are poor memory and . . .

. . . I’m sure I’ll remember the other.

Sorry, it’s an old joke, but I have nothing better to offer.

I’ve just been reading a book on how to write poetry, It should have been subtitled “Or why self-publishing is dangerous“. It enables people who have lots of confidence, a few published poems and a couple of college courses to write books about how to write mediocre poetry. I can write mediocre poetry, I was hoping to read about how to write good stuff. There are always a few pointers you can pick up from a book like this but t is irksome to pay money for mediocrity.

I also bought a book of monostich poetry. Well, you have to keep learning, don’t you. 50 poems, each of one line. It cost 49p, so it wasn’t a fortune. On the other hand, it did highlight the perils of one-line poetry. There’s a type of haiku, which is often called a monostich or a monoku. One term is imprecise and the other is probably grammatically offensive to scholars of Japanese, but it’s all we have, unless you prefer “haiku written in one line”. I thought I’d have a look at it in more detail. It’s never too late to learn something new, even if it is that one line poetry is often a let down.

I just remembered one of the things I was going to say. A quiz question last night  (final round of Pointless) wanted three obscure publications of the Bronte sisters. I said Villette, Agnes Grey and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I’m always worried about Villette because I wonder if I’m confusing it with the novel by Churchill, or Disraeli. However, I was correct – Villette and Agnes Grey were both pointless answers. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is slightly better known. I did know there was another less known one but couldn’t remember it. It is Shirley.

Churchill’s novel is Savrola. Disraeli wrote Vivian Grey and Sybil – close but not quite the same.

My point? I know the names of most of the Bronte novels, but have only ever read Jane Eyre, which convinced me never to read another. I have never even picked up Churchill’s novel or any by Disraeli. This highlights the difference between knowledge (which I have) and education, which I do not. So I  bought The Canterbury Tales for my Kindle. You know where you are with Chaucer, even if you don’t know all the words. I will never be as well read as Derrick Knight, but I still have time to expand my mind.

Boasting, Bragging and Blowing My Own Trumpet

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You’ve read the title, so brace yourself for a lack of modesty and some tasteless self-promotion.

Normally I wouldn’t warn people, but having recently seen that the University of Greenwich is issuing warnings to students about the disturbing content of jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey, I felt I’d better follow the trend. I’ve never actually read Northanger Abbey, though I was traumatised by previous attempts to read Austen. Her books are just so dull when compared to the films and TV series. However, if I had read it, I doubt I would be distressed by the “gender stereotyping” I encountered. If they find that distressing how are they going to cope with Orwell, Hemingway and H P Lovecraft? Or even Beatrix Potter, Winnie the Pooh and the Mr Men, who all cover some hardcore issues compared to jane Austen and gender stereotyping? If they need a warning about the horror of reading jane Austen, what about Shakespeare? Yes, Titus Andronicus, I’m thinking about you . . .

Love Locks at Bakewell

You see more gender stereotyping on reality TV than you do in a classic novel, and so far, unfortunately, nobody has thought to issue a warning about Love Island. I was going to add a link here, but have decided against advertising it.

Anyway, back to my warning.

I had another acceptance. That’s three from the seven I sent out. Allowing for the fact that three are competition entries (where I expect to wait months to find I wasn’t shortlisted) it’s really three from four. I’m happy with that.

That’s the warm-up bragging.

Peak Shopping Village

The other comes in the form of Contemporary Haibun 18, which is an annual anthology. Entries are sent in by the editors of magazines and poems are selected for inclusion. The goal, according to the Forward, is to present “some of the finest haibun, tanka prose and haiga created over the past year”.

Right at the back of the book, lurking in the “W” section, is one of mine. I know it’s not a mistake, because they wrote and asked. Waiting for the book to be published I was quietly smug, and when it actually arrived today I was, for a moment, very pleased with myself. However, it’s important to note that there are 91 other writers in there, and 24 of them have multiple entries, so I am going to show off now by telling everyone, and then I’m going to start making notes for new poetry.

That’s the problem with things like this – you have to keep working harder and harder to make sure the feeling of happiness continues.

An attempt at artistry

Butlins Veleta Competition Medallion 1954

No Time . . .

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Sorry, I’ve become unreliable again. I’m having to devote too much energy to  problems in real life (as opposed to the bowdlerised version I present in the blog). One, which I can discuss now, is sciatica. Some heat, some stretching and some attention to my seating arrangements have improved it after two weeks of problems and I’m happy that I’m on the way to recovery.

The other is annoying, frustrating, but essentially trivial matter at work, which has been annoying me, and preventing me from concentrating, for the last few days. This is something and nothing, and the annoyance at being unable to shake it off is actually greater than the annoyance at the situation. However, that’s work, and has no place in my blog apart from a passing comment.

Sometimes, like when I had two boundary disputes with neighbours and a collapsing chimney stack, you just have to work through them carefully and persistently. In the end, all three problems were resolved and though one of the neighbours was annoyed with me, nothing bad happened. The one who was annoyed really had no reason for it – I won’t go over the details as it still irritates me.

This morning I got a new acceptance, so that’s good. Three of last months submissions were competitions, so I won’t get any sort of answer for months yet, probably never, as they disappear into the black hole that is the fate of most competition entries. Of the other four I now have two acceptances and am waiting for two. It compensates fro my other problems in some way – I’m still in pain and I’m still annoyed, but at least I am also grinning while all that is happening.

My current energy is devoted to catching up on reading blogs (with limited success I’m afraid), reading Laurie’s latest book  (I’m only two months late) and thinking about starting the presentation on medallions. That’s about ten days away and I really must start.

In fact I will go and start now . . .

Adventures with a Keyboard

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It is done. It is not done well, but by the end I was just concentrating on the clock. My 7th submission departed my email box at 11.45pm, a full fifteen minutes before the deadline. The eighth, I had already mentally abandoned.

I have learnt some useful lessons about writing in the last few weeks, so it hasn’t been the chaotic waste it may look like from the outside. I’ve also learnt about time management. Or possibly I have relearnt that, as I tend to make the same mistake over and over – not allowing enough time, and always over-estimating my ability to work at high speed as the deadline approaches.

Turning on my email this morning I found I had already had one acceptance – an editor with superpowers. How can anyone work that fast? Also, of course, an editor with exquisite taste.

In my haste, Iet a typo slip through in the accepted tanka prose. This is embarrassing and amateurish. Unfortunately, in missing off the “t” from “the” I still made the word “he” and my lazy reliance on spellcheckers let me down.

Even worse, I woke this morning and remembered that one of the other submissions went off with a single word descriptive title title. You are supposed to be more complicated when submitting tanka prose and haibun. Unfortunately, I tend to start with a title that helps me find it when it’s mixed up with forty or fifty other poems. It’s something I’ve done before when I’ve been rushing. If the poem is good I will probably be asked to do a new title. If it isn’t, I will be able to come up with a new one as part of the edit. I’ve just thought of a good one whilst writing this.

Blood test now. See you later.

My Orange Parker Pen

An Ambitious Day

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Yes, it was an ambitious day. And no, of course the ambition didn’t translate into massive advances in anything. I have a couple of poems in my head, the outlines of ten slides for my talk and not a lot else. It’s better than not having a couple of poems in my head (though they are never as good once I get them on paper) and not having the outline of ten slides done, but I had hoped for more.

It all started off with my decision to get dressed this morning. Normal clothes seemed to speak of standards being maintained so I opted for that rather than the Christmas Victorian Miser Chic look. That would have been warmer, and probably more productive, as the cold kept driving me through to the other room, and TV. And the coffee machine, the remnants of Christmas biscuits and conversation.

At least I did get some stuff done. There have been other Sundays where I have done less. I’m just cooking pizza now and will then be adding salad and going through to watch the Great Pottery Throwdown.

I’m using the word “cook” in its loosest sense here. Ready-made bases, sauce from a jar, grated cheese from a bag and a few sliced veg is not the height of pizza perfection. Nor is coleslaw from a  plastic tub, a sprinkle of cherry tomatoes and some leftover canned sweetcorn. At least it’s not a takeaway.

There’s not much to say apart from that. An inactive life leads to an uneventful blog. On Monday, it will be three weeks util my talk. At the rate I’m going, it should be OK, but I need to ensure that I do keep going at this speed. Bearing in mind I have ten submissions to make (it’s a busy month) this is going to be a hectic few weeks.

A nice cup of tea

Love Laziness and a Lively Discussion

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It is so tempting to call this one “The Second Post of the Year”. Using numbers freed me up from thinking about titles for much of last year, but in the end it is boring and uninformative, so I have resisted temptation.

At the time of writing I have not yet decided what to call the post. It may be something side-splittingly funny. The balance of probability suggests it won’t be, but we can hope. At the moment, I can’t even think of three words that start with the same letter.

Big news of the day is that I submitted ten poems on 31st December and have just had two accepted. It’s a good start to the New Year. Even better, I can send the other eight off to one of the magazines accepting submissions this month.

Using Kindle I had another go at Charlicountryboy’s book. I bought the paperback just before Christmas but haven’t managed to read anything apart from non-fiction (which you can dip in and out off) since having Covid. I’m still not back to fiction, but that is down to old eyes, which aren’t a problem when you have an illuminated page. It’s a good book and I will be reviewing it soon.

That’s about it for now. It hasn’t been a lively day, though we did have some discussion on how lazy I was which provided a few minutes of witty cut and thrust. I ordered McDonald’s via Just Eat and this is considered to be the height of idleness by Julia. However, if I’d toasted bread and warmed up some beans that would have been industrious. I don’t see much difference. Beans on toast is cheaper and almost certainly healthier, but it’s not to much fun and we’d have missed the Festive Pies. Plus it would have made washing up. Lazy? Possibly. Efficient? Undoubtedly. A lovely festive gesture for my beloved. Apparently not.

Having failed in my attempt to attract sponsorship from Parker Pens I am trying a new target for 2023 – I’ve always like McDonald’s. . .