Skip to main content

National Poetry Day: Light

Today is National Poetry Day

Poetry is the fine dining of literature.  We spend most of our days tossing together the everyday pasta of prose, finding a few quick metaphors in the fridge and splashing in a dash of humour to add to the flavour. 

But sometimes we want to spend the extra time to make a meal to linger over.  We pick out the best of our rare similes and assemble them artfully, paying careful attention to rhyme and metre.  The restrictions force us to pare down to the essentials, letting the flavour of the ingredients speak for themselves.  The intention is not just to sate the appetite for words, but to stroke the senses and stir the imagination.  To create an occasion.  A poem.

I'm afraid my blog is not a fine dining establishment this evening.  I tried to put some ingredients together, but they somehow failed to produce anything worth keeping.  Fortunately others are better poetry chefs than I am, and they have left a menu.  You can enjoy the free National Poetry Day book here, with poems new and old on the theme of light.

Bon appetit!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Mr White Watson of Bakewell

Once upon a time, back in 1795 or so, lived a man who was always asking questions.  The kind of questions like, "Why is glass transparent?" or "Why do fruit trees grow better in that place than in this place?" or "What does the earth look like underneath the surface?"  This last question was one that he was particularly interested in, and he went so far as to work out what the rock layers looked like where he lived, and draw little pictures of them.  Now he was a marble sculptor by trade (as well as fossil hunter, mineral seller, and a few other things) so he thought it would be even better to make his little pictures in stone.  That way he could represent the layers using the actual rocks they were composed of.  Over the course of his lifetime he made almost 100 of these tablets, as he called them. Then he died.  And no one else was quite as interested in all those rocks and minerals as he was.  His collection was sold off, bit by bit, and the table...

National Forest Way: Bagworth and Thornton Reservoir

I'd hoped to be further along with my walking by now, but a combination of illness, bad weather, and inset days meant that I couldn't get out for a few weeks. At the first sign of a break in the clouds, I was ready to go. It had rained heavily the day before, and there was still a watery feel to the air. I parked at Thornton Reservoir and donned waterproof trousers and wellies, then started by following a footpath along the back of some houses in Thornton. The village is perched on a ridge, which slopes down to the reservoir on one side, and Bagworth Heath woods on the other. view to Bagworth Heath woods I picked up the Leicestershire Round opposite the village school, and followed it past an old mill, across a railway line, and through the woods. One section of the path was particularly squelchy. At the end of the woods, the footpath sign pointed right, which I assumed meant I should follow the road. It wasn't until afterwards that I realised I could have crossed over and ...

Erewash Valley Trail: Strelley and Broxtowe

I'd had another four-week gap between walks (who invented half terms and inset days?), and was itching to get out on my explorations. The weather forecast optimistically predicted sunny spells. Unfortunately the weather hadn't got the memo; it was overcast for my entire walk, and then the sky cleared as I was driving home. Oh well. I arrived at the Nottingham Canal to find bulldozers buzzing up and down the towpath. The car park I'd intended to park in was closed for renovation, but there was a layby a little further up the road towards Cossall, so that was fine. The first part of the road had nice wide verges - easy walking - but after the canal bridge it was called Dead Lane, which felt descriptive. It was tightly hemmed in by hedges and I had to flatten myself against the hawthorn when cars passed. Cossall Road Dead Lane The bridleway to Strelley was mostly paved road, but blessedly traffic-free apart from a couple of bikes and a bin lorry performing manoeuvres. Tim Brin...