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Spring 2021

Shower of spring rain

 

It feels like a tsunami

The end of lock-down

Creeping up on us like a wave

Just a shower of spring rain

But with a power

That may overwhelm us

 

We’ve been inside so long

I’m afraid to get wet

And yet

I’ve got my umbrella

And we need a little rain

For our lives to regrow

 

We have weathered enough of the storm

The sun will shine on us again

Lock-down will end

The tsunami will subside

Like spring rain

 

We are survivors

Proud to be part of this history

Let it be history

Set us free.

Dead Poets

(on reading Alun Lewis and Ted Hughes in Poetry group)

Well the poems of Alun Lewis were good. He comes over as an intelligent, interested observer of life and living. Some of his phrases are full of bold imagery – one can feel greatly moved by his words and compassion.

It is interesting to learn that he was such a young man to be making these observations. But it’s my opinion that any poem has to stand independent of knowledge about the life of the poet. I don’t need to know the name of his wife, or his employment, (unless it’s the subject of the poem) or how he killed himself!!!

I also question the mood. We learn that poets like Lewis and Hughes were depressed. But is it only their poems of despair and sadness that make them posthumously famous? Surely they had happy times. Surely they had joy? Maybe their verses of joy are hidden within sad text, just to sound mysterious and doleful. Maybe if I had read some of their happy poems I would have felt interested to read more of their work. It does not work, for me, the other way round.

As a poet myself, I know that mood is my inspiration, whether happy, excited, annoyed, aggrieved or downright angry, as well as sad and grief-stricken. But those saddest poems are not ones I wish to share. Much. They are my own personal innermost record. In my book, Candle, I did include a trilogy of poems reflecting my “depressed” time, but only for completeness, to show I had that sensitive, deep side. Otherwise my poems are every-day happenings and fun with words.

Light Verse, then, is to be read for pleasure. Not something deep to inspect. Less valuable, it seems, in the context of a poetry group, where the focus is on examining and disecting the possible meanings in between the lines that the poet gives us.  I don’t want to be a deep, emotionally depressed writer. I think it does “writing” an injustice.

It’s in the same vein as the 21st century  book/script writing which focusses on crime, death, horror. Is our world so pretty that we need a balance of horror to give us a completeness of emotion? I don’t think so. I think the opposite. I think horror grief and death in books film and T.V. have become commonplace at the detriment to  reality. I fear for the future generation who grow into a world of blood and tears, thinking it is normal. Screen games pursue power over others, and diminish the value of life. Soap operas dramatise aggressive speech and emotional abuse. So depressing.

There is a place for sad poetry, of course. Non poets can find solace in the beauty of words that express feelings that they could not put into words themselves.

But poets are often egoistic word-smiths, needing public praise of their work. Performance poets can be funny and dramatic, but they can also shock and disturb. You don’t know what you will get with performance poets.

In these pandemic times, there is much to grieve, much to be angry about, and much to praise. We all do this in our own way. I hope we can also count blessings, love one another, and have a jolly good laugh. So let’s put to one side the depression of dead poets, and live the best, happiest life we can.

 

Candle – Relighting the flame.

The launch of my poetry book, Candle, was snuffed out due to Covid-19. All meetings and venues and readings were cancelled.

On a good note, I learned to “Zoom” into poetry open mics and read some of my poems. I “met” a lot of people and made new friends. I found that poetry is not dead, or dying. It is thriving. The virus  lock-downs have given people more opportunity to write. And more reason to contemplate “the meaning of life” and where we are right now.

Twenty-twenty was just awful. But with the vaccines now running full pelt, I am hopeful for the future and what it may hold. So I will begin to promote my book again, and look forward to getting back out in the real world.

So here’s a new plug for my book. It’s called Candle. It’s a compilation of poetry written by me throughout my lifetime. Subjects range from my enjoyment of nature, especially summer, to motherhood and family life, to issues at work and everyday things that just “happen” and need writing about. It’s funny, moody, silly and sad.

Twenty-Twenty  also found me writing much more poetry than ever. There are plenty of poems on this website that were written that year, and some of these may find their way into another booklet.

So have a look through the poems. Have a look at the SHOP header and consider buying Candle. If you prefer just the rhyming poetry, consider my previous book “In Search of Sympathy or a Cure”.  If you want to contact me, you can email me at amandasamm@yorkshirepen.co.uk

Thanks for looking. Happy New Year. Let’s get 2021 off the ground. Happy browsing.

Lock-Down Three

Things to do in Lock-down 3

 

I’m going to

  • clean the house
  • and renovate the old décor
  • I’ll exercise and go for walks
  • I’ll paint and draw

 

It’s good to have a plan

But like new year resolutions

They go quickly down the pan

And my good intentions

Like my January Inspiration

Is quickly replaced by apathy

And procrastination

 

Cleaning – what’s the point?

When no-one’s allowed to visit

And if the décor the same

as they saw before

It isn’t going to matter, is it?

 

Exercise took a Christmas break

And it’s hard to get restarted

The weight gain from the Christmas cake

Has made me feel downhearted

 

It’s cold down in my garden shed

Where I like to paint and draw

It’s frosty and the wood has swelled

And I can’t get in the door

 

I’ve cut my hair, a snip or two

Cut all round till it was gone

It couldn’t wait till end of lock-down

Kept calm and carried on.

 

I had a lot of plans for January

But it’s the same old procrastination

So Lock-down three can “do one”

I’ll stay in bed until

I can get a vaccination

Time for change?

New Year New Beginning.

Not sure where it will go or where it will lead. Sort of exciting.

Maybe I need more space to move, more room to breathe.

Maybe I seek fame, if not fortune. Maybe I seek contentment, if not praise.

Maybe it’s not all about poetry. Maybe it’s colour. Maybe it’s heat. It’s hard these days

to see the difference tween dark and light, black and white, peace and fright.

Maybe I’m wrong and nothing will be right again.

But if I’m right, (and I’m sure I’m right)

This new year will be a new beginning

A time for change.

So each step we take must be a step forward, even though the world is closed.

and those who sleep won’t see me creep ahead

I’m centre stage

Writing on a new page

It might not be a poem but beware – no-one knows what’s here or there

-What might I conjure up instead?