The art of waiting
I haven't written my blog for a while but have continued to write poems and last year I also signed up to an Open University Degree in English Literature and Creative Writing. I've almost completed the second year of a six year course, studied part time and funded by the Scottish Government. I will be 70 by the time I complete the course but who cares, it will feel like a real achievement and well worth waiting and working for!
I'm also waiting to hear the outcome of my submission of 30 poems to a poetry publisher. I know that I'm on a short list for publication of a poetry pamphlet with this publisher, which feels exciting but though I'm a pretty patient person, waiting for a decision feels excruciating.
However sometimes it pays to keep waiting. A poem that I wrote last summer has been accepted as a podcast for the Echoes of the City project in Edinburgh and for the forthcoming anthology of New Writing Scotland.
Writing poetry feels like a positive activity compared to all the nihilism and horror happening in the world right now, the bombings and killings in so many cities in Europe, London and the Middle East, the undeniable effects of Climate Change, the election of Trump, the huge disappointment of Brexit, Theresa May and the UK General Election. I may not write directly about any of these events but they are there, weaving themselves into my psyche, waiting in the wings.
Here's one of my recent ekphrastic poems, written in response to a work of art. There's more waiting mentioned in this poem too.
Joan on fire
A response to ‘Seascape’ by Joan Eardley
All through the days of salmon-grey skies
shot with blood, she stood,
painting, scraping, layering, looking towards South Row, Kale Tap,
waiting for the light.
Suddenly it came, her eyes lit by flames,
phosphorescent, orange, green,
a fireball exploded far behind the black and ochre cliff,
landing at her feet.
The fire’s still there, on the board, in the swollen sea,
trapped in nets, because she dared.
I'm also waiting to hear the outcome of my submission of 30 poems to a poetry publisher. I know that I'm on a short list for publication of a poetry pamphlet with this publisher, which feels exciting but though I'm a pretty patient person, waiting for a decision feels excruciating.
However sometimes it pays to keep waiting. A poem that I wrote last summer has been accepted as a podcast for the Echoes of the City project in Edinburgh and for the forthcoming anthology of New Writing Scotland.
Writing poetry feels like a positive activity compared to all the nihilism and horror happening in the world right now, the bombings and killings in so many cities in Europe, London and the Middle East, the undeniable effects of Climate Change, the election of Trump, the huge disappointment of Brexit, Theresa May and the UK General Election. I may not write directly about any of these events but they are there, weaving themselves into my psyche, waiting in the wings.
Here's one of my recent ekphrastic poems, written in response to a work of art. There's more waiting mentioned in this poem too.
Joan on fire
A response to ‘Seascape’ by Joan Eardley
All through the days of salmon-grey skies
shot with blood, she stood,
painting, scraping, layering, looking towards South Row, Kale Tap,
waiting for the light.
Suddenly it came, her eyes lit by flames,
phosphorescent, orange, green,
a fireball exploded far behind the black and ochre cliff,
landing at her feet.
The fire’s still there, on the board, in the swollen sea,
trapped in nets, because she dared.
Comments
Post a Comment