Five Photos Leading Me Home

Westward a bunch of flowers adorns the table
in the living room upstairs
sent by kind neighbours after person(s) unknown
threw an empty bottle through
a downstairs bedroom window

Northly I sit in the yard garden smiling
wearing a new shirt and waistcoat
bought by my love
finally getting a photo I like
for all my online avatars

A Buddha sits on the window sill
South view over his shoulder
sheltered beneath a tree size avocado
final success after countless
failures to grow from a pit

A Buddha head sits among plants
on a garden shelf, contemplating
fossils garnered on English beaches
and brought East by our son from Mexico
but not from its yellow hills

Clematis blooms pink against
the impossible blue of the May sky
fluffed with clouds
each year the Montana climbs
to such height

Photos call us home
in a sixth dimension
of the heart

© Andrew Wilson, 2023

Today’s post is written for Laura Bloomsbury in Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft over at the dVerse Poets Pub.
The prompt is based on “Five Directions to my house” by the poet Juan Filipe Herrera.

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 14

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my first year and hearing about it just in time to register, I was on List 15. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 20 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent and the cards but not the poems you received. I will share these in the order of sending and I will miss out those which I have not yet received in case they arrive soon…
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Dear Shari

Each stranger’s name and address
is like a mini detective challenge
I follow police protocol
and locate you on a map
so I know you are in Seattle
home to the PoPo Fest
Beyond that
your name gives me nothing
but for no better reason
than that you are
one “O” short of a monsoon
I picked this picture of
Indian shoes some years past
at the Leeds Asian Festival
so blinging I couldn’t resist…

© Andrew Wilson, 2023

Shari was quick out of the blocks, her postcard poem being my fourth to arrive – which means she had no more idea about me than I had about her… Her card was beautiful, her poem short and sweet…

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 13

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my first year and hearing about it just in time to register, I was on List 15. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 20 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent and the cards but not the poems you received. I will share these in the order of sending and I will miss out those which I have not yet received in case they arrive soon…
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Dear Amy

Do you believe in coincidence
because what are the odd
of two Millers at 6 and 7
in the chart?
Could you be related even
brother and sister, wife and ex
just plain friends joined by
matching nomenclature
calling to remind that
sign-up is beckoning for the
Poetry Postcard Festival
and leaping into un-poet like
action – registering almost
simultaneously like
quantum entangled pairs
I choose not to believe
in coincidence…

© Andrew Wilson, 2023

Amy’s card was my 16th to arrive and her poem talked of a trip to the mountains – perhaps depicted in this wonderful original watercolour below…

A Grin

The three poems by dead poets I have chosen to read for last night’s Dead Poets Society challenge by kim881 in PoeticsUncategorized over at the dVerse Poets Pub are all from poets I studied at school and have continued to love all my life – great teachers have a lot to answer for…

Andrew Marvell 1621–1678

Andrew Marvell’s ‘To His Coy Mistress‘ is surely one of the most famous poems of attempted seduction ever written. I live within a day-out’s journey from Marvell’s birthplace, Hull where the muddy tide of Humber is about as wide as the Ganges and I wonder whether sailor’s tales informed Marvell’s poem. The last time I visited Hull, I met two young lovers sitting on the plinth of Andrew Marvell’s lifesize statue and acquainted them with the poem…

WB Yeats was also a favourite at school and later, when I moved to Sligo in the west of Ireland and Yeats’ home town, I was commissioned to paint a mural of the poet and his work and you can see a much younger me from 1995 being interviewed on television whilst up a ladder painting the mural. Searching for a poem suitable for this challenge, I came across The Mask, an unusual (for Yeats) Question and Response format with an ABABA rhyme scheme

Hughes in 1986. PHOTO: NILS JORGENSEN/REX SHUTTERSTOCK

Lastly, I chose ‘A Grin‘ from Ted Hughes’ wonderful collection of poems ‘Crow’ although this is not one of the poems referencing the scurrilous Crow. If I had to keep one volume of poetry it would be this…

Having read these three dead poets, I’m afraid I could not write a poem based on just one of them and so my offering below channels all three, Yeats for the form, Ted Hughes for the title and theme and Marvell for the intimations of mortality and perhaps the poetic shot at immortality…

A Grin

‘Centre stage on the birthing bed
Did you grin for your role through the pain?’
‘I thought how easily I could end up dead
And grinned to think you’d never touch me again
Don’t fucking touch me! I shouted!

‘Did you grin at the banality of death by car crash
You who imagined yourself great and with longevity?’
‘I thought of my wife who always thought me rash
And my secretary always seasoning work with levity
Urging me to slow down – but I had to dash…’

‘I watched your grin, my eyes open, yours closed
And wondered, coming together, if we really were?’
‘You were so deep the thought never arose
That we were two, a separate him and her
I never thought at all as into me you flowed…’

‘Whatever before death caused your rictus grin
Will be replaced in time by the skull’s secret smile’
‘What tales within my skull locked in
Now deliquescing, bodily integrity defiled
In the game of Life, none of us can win.’

‘Your poetic attempt at seduction
Already lived three hundred and fifty years
Is poetry the way – immortality to win?’
‘I never won that girl nor any like her
But it makes me grin – the onward admiration…’

© Andrew Wilson, 2023

P.S. I realise now that we were supposed to write based on one of Kim’s chosen three poems but when I saw the challenge last night, my Covid head was stuffed with cotton wool and it is only this morning that I was feeling better sufficiently to write something and by then, the idea that we choose our own three poems had settled in… Sorry Kim! And so below is a response to one of your poem choices Dylan Thomas’ ‘Once It Was the Colour of Saying’.

Once It Was the Colour of Saying

Once a year at least, I listen to
Under Milkwood by Dylan Thomas
and steep myself in the poetry of his play
the play of his poetry
as he carries us around the small Welsh town
of his imagination
borne into the night
and through the waking day
revisiting the cast of characters
until we love their foibled ways and wish
like the Reverend Eli Jenkins
in his poem within a poem
“To stroll among our trees and stray
In Goosegog Lane, on Donkey Down,
And hear the Dewi sing all day,
And never, never leave the town.”

© Andrew Wilson, 2023

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 12

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my first year and hearing about it just in time to register, I was on List 15. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 20 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent and the cards but not the poems you received. I will share these in the order of sending and I will miss out those which I have not yet received in case they arrive soon…
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Dear Christopher

Can you surf in the Gulf
on the outer edge of the Keys
is there enough fetch to raise waves
suitable for surfing and
which way does the wind blow
or is it calm enough
to paddleboard- the latest craze!
I took these brightly coloured boards
at St. Ives in Cornwall
where surf and art mix
I thought they were surf boards
but looking now I am unsure
perhaps kayaks – another way
to breast the brine
I savoured their beauty in the sun
too old to try them out…

© Andrew Wilson, 2023

Christopher’s poem was a fine metaphor of the various times of data, and night, on the peaks, seen as music – perfectly prompted by his card – Maurice Baquet playing Chamber Music…

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 11

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my first year and hearing about it just in time to register, I was on List 15. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 20 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent and the cards but not the poems you received. I will share these in the order of sending and I will miss out those which I have not yet received in case they arrive soon…
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Dear Peggy

To live by a great water
is to have a special sense of place
and you live in a place of
Great Spirit by the Great Water.
The moods and music of water
change every moment and
as well as the water
the reflections of great clouds
and huge skies dwarf
our mortal constructions
and remind us of the power of nature.
We lived six months in lockdown
with this stunning view of
mountains and Mediterranean
in Crete, winter of 2020
– I for one loved the cloud mountains…

© Andrew Wilson, 2023

Peggy reflected on the use of Cannabis to blunt the pain of harsh winters in areas where liquor was the only sucquor…

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 10

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my first year and hearing about it just in time to register, I was on List 15. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 20 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent and the cards but not the poems you received. I will share these in the order of sending and I will miss out those which I have not yet received in case they arrive soon…
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Dear Cecil

If I were a West Coast biker
I would roar into Lincoln City
on my Harley hog down the 101
El Camino Real – The Royal Road
swooping up and down the hills
over bluffs between Pacific beaches.
My tattoos might inspire fear
by association with terrible tales
but if I was like this biker
from West Yorkshire
hanging out in Hebden Bridge
famously home to hippies and lesbians
I would have you know
my bark is worse than my bite
I am a big softie at heart
too shy to let people get close…

Andrew
© Andrew Wilson, 2023

Cecil may or may not have received my card before writing his postcard (below) – coincidentally, I sent my card on the 17th of July and his was the 17th card I received – on the 25th of August. His poem (which I am not allowed to show you) referenced nothing more frightening than a predatory Robin in a nature documentary – enough to make his wife hide her eyes – I do hope my card did not scare them…

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 9

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my first year and hearing about it just in time to register, I was on List 15. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 20 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent and the cards but not the poems you received. I will share these in the order of sending and I will miss out those which I have not yet received in case they arrive soon…
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Dear Rachel

Passing the end of this street
I saw these sun-painted shadows
depicting the neighbouring houses
chiaroscuro – light and shade.
Morning sun swinging round
is what we notice both
creating and destroying shadows
but at eventide
it is the shadows winning
steadily reclaiming surfaces
for the night. I started
seeing shadowplay everywhere
best of all – shadows invaded
by reflected sparkles
from third-party windows
Chiaroscuro…

Andrew
© Andrew Wilson, 2023

Rachel fulfilled the PoPo brief perfectly, an epistolary postcard poem that referenced the picture on her card (below), and since she had presumably received my card, also referenced my theme of light and shade – perfect! I only wish I was allowed to show you…

Hold onto your hats! Myrtle and High Street Bellingham WA


What We Write in the Shadows…

Writing is more popular than ever – on computers, on phones and still some of us do at least some of our writing on paper! Emails and letters, books, blogs, op-eds, texts and the opinions formerly known as Tweets, replies, comments and critiques – many are the forms of the things we write.

I remember when I got my first PC back in 1999 when the internet was young, how my first impression was of wonder and joy at the democracy of it all – thousands of people all over the world were posting stuff about their passions populating the web with information in a thousand silos. Businesses had not yet learned the importance of having a website or how to do that in a really useful and appealing way – but never fear – an army of people was developing to create and fill jobs that had not existed before – coders, web designers, SEO experts, and writing on the web was the same. Writing groups – formerly exclusively in-person, moved online, breaking the limitations of time and geography – I live in Yorkshire, England, but I belong to a writing group on the East Coast of America, five hours difference and an ocean apart and as for cultural differences – well that is an added spice… The army that services writers now includes editors, writing coaches, publishing gurus, writing groups, critique groups and even silent writing groups who write in collective silence in Zoom meetings for the shared and mutual support of conducting an otherwise solitary activity – together!

The stars of “What We Do in the Shadows
(Russ Martin/FX)

You may recognise the title of this piece as a reference to the TV series “What We Do in the Shadows” based on a New Zealand film – a mocumentary, comedy-horror drama about vampires living in Staten Island and attempting to match the nature of their lives to the lifestyle of modern America. This seems an apt metaphor for the life of a writer. Recently I have been reading “On Writers and Writing” by Margaret Atwood and one of the early chapters riffs on the dualistic idea of “the writer who writes and the writer who lives”. The difference between the writer in the act or process of writing, and the person who lives, eats, breathes and is seen about town. Atwood then goes on to consider the need to actually make a living if one wants to be a full-time writer, for although the truism is that “A writer is someone who writes!”, many of us are therefore writers but few make a living by writing. Many of us do other jobs – lead other lives and writing is only a part of that life – how big a part depends on our circumstances and our choices, how much time we are prepared to “sacrifice” to the words…

Margaret Atwood, author of “On Writers and Writing

If you aspire to write a book, fiction or non-fiction, then it can take years as a part-timer to pass through the process of, research, writing a first draft, finding critique readers or partners, re-writing second or third drafts and all that before you decide on whatever monumentally difficult path you will select to attempt to get your book published. For a vampire, this might be the equivalent of feasting once in a blue moon, assuming you can even find a suitable victim when the appetite is upon you. Meantime, many people select to write more bite-sized portions – poems or blog posts. Substack is one of the latest forums for trying to make these smaller bites feed the writer sustainably. Launched with great fanfare about how it will make writers, if not rich, then at least not starving, and accompanied by helpful articles aplenty on how to drive readers to your site and convert them to Subscribers – Substack is really just a monetised blog with a subscription rather than an advertising models. And why not – how annoying is it when reading a poem on someone’s blog, to have the flow of poesy interrupted by an ad. for “Unsold Holiday Packages Selling Cheap”! And how much do those bloggers who have succumbed to the temptation in fact make from such monetisation – not much I am guessing?

But to return to the writer – whatever he or she might be writing – what drives them if it is not the elusive pot of gold at the ever-shifting rainbow’s end? Is it as George Mallory, on being asked why he wanted to climb Mount Everest, replied “Because it is there!” and, in the event, it was to be the death of him… However, climbing Everest and succeeding as a writer, two things that may feel the same, is not just about attaining the summit, it surely has to be about the travelling hopefully, the moment-by-moment achievement of each stage, step by step, word by word. Summiting might be the dream, but there are rewards along the way and one of those, for all writers other than book authors, one of the rewards is feedback – the comment! Indeed, even aspiring writers of books nowadays reveal their journeys online, one chapter at a time, and like Dickens, who admittedly was getting paid to publish his books in serial form, the feedback obtained from fans, friends and followers of one’s blog, can help to shape and steer the course of one’s writing, or for the strictly amateur, merely be the source of gratification that means one is not writing alone and unheard in the shadows but enjoyed and appreciated – hopefully…

The art of getting more comments does not depend solely on the quality of a person’s writing but on how much work they spend publicising it, in the main by visiting other people’s writing and leaving comments with links back to their own sites and this fosters a sense of community in the wilderness that can be the World Wide Web. On the downside, reading lots of other people’s work can be disheartening as well as inspirational, informative and misleading – you need to have a strong sense of self and direction to find and tune your own voice and little wonder that there is a site called The Insecure Writers Support Group! Sometimes, a blog site itself can be small enough to grow a fellowship of friends – the first site I blogged on with a site called “Ripple”, was called Mo’time – a testbed for the ideas of a man who ran a larger Italian blog site and although thousands were signed up, as people do, like gym memberships, the number who followed through and kept up their writing, was much smaller and so a core of connected writers developed online friendship and appreciation in the comments section. Eventually, tragically, Mo’time, and its parent blog, were sold, and the new owners soon terminated the affair. Some of us tried to create and stay connected with new homes but the magic was gone although I still see some of the Mo’timers on Facebook to this day.

Image by Midjourney from a prompt by Andrew Wilson

A few years ago, just as the pandemic was getting into its stride, I discovered, on April 1st, the A to Z Challenge in which bloggers post 26 alphabetically named post on whatever subject they care to choose for the month of April. Not having had time to prepare anything in advance, as old hands do, I wrote about aspects of the unfolding Covid crisis and I have now completed the challenge four times on my latest blog incarnation How Would You Know – that is if you disagree with my characterisation of Substack as a Blog… I revived a name that I had briefly tried on Blogger – Of Cabbages and Kings – a line from the Walrus and the Carpenter in Lewis Carrol’s Alice and Wonderland “The time has come” the Walrus said “ to talk of many things – Of cabbages and Kings…” I have to admit, that so far, I have not put the work in to draw readers to this new venture and I am still posting in the parallel world of WordPress and How Would You Know in part because I have hit a certain wall – to borrow a running metaphor. What I like about the A to Z Challenge, is the enormous breadth of writers and subject matter that coalesces each year and to jump into that pool is like an annual swim and sauna from which I emerge refreshed, invigorated and inspired.

If you are writing a novel, you can sit in your garret writing away, the time for reaching out to readers, way off on the horizon, but once you sit down at the Table of Feedback in the Dining Room of Blogs, then your daily output is reduced by the amount of time you spend promoting your posts by reading and commenting on others, just as the published author’s hours are eaten into by promotional tours and there comes a point, which I feel I have reached, where you must pick and choose carefully, which challenges you are going to respond to or else fall into a bubbling vat of writing for comments and commenting for followers and feedback at the cost of your writing enough of your own, of writing spontaneously, prompt-less and fancy-free…

If a person writes something and does not put it out into the world – does that mean that it has no meaning? That it wasn’t worth doing? Is it only when posthumously discovered that it suddenly acquires worth and meaning? Because at the end of the day, a writer must ask themselves “Why do I write?” is it for art’s sake, for the glory of publishing and acclaim and the money that may follow? Be it as humble as a blog post or as grand as a novel, is it to entertain, inform, to fight injustice, to philosophize through non-fiction or fiction – but I say that if you feel the compulsion to write, if you enjoy doing it, you are on the right track wherever it leads…

So if you are reading this on WordPress, you may visit me at Substack here, and if you are on Substack then How Would You Know is here and you can see the edifice I have constructed over the last years – a mind palace with many rooms if you will, and if you like what you find, write a comment in either place and I promise I will respond to it…

© Andrew Wilson, 2023

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 8

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my first year and hearing about it just in time to register, I was on List 15. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 20 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent and the cards but not the poems you received. I will share these in the order of sending and I will miss out those which I have not yet received in case they arrive soon…
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Dear Amy

This might seem like
sending coals to Newcastle
a picture of mighty mountains
to a woman who lives on a fiord
with her back to
mountains of her own
but these mountains have
never known the touch of glaciation
these mountains in Crete
where we spent lockdown
may be capped with Winter snow
but from their tops
you could see Africa
if only you were young enough
to climb and not locked down
so every day we just
admired from afar

Andrew
© Andrew Wilson, 2023

Amy’s card was only my second to arrive from Group 15 which I belonged to – I was the only non-American on the list! Her card was glittery and featured a drunken fairy and the mossy rocks which I imagine abound in the Washington landscape… I only wish I could share her poem!