Why poetry is like cooking, er sort of

You start with a concept of what your what to have when you're finished. OK you don't have the sexy image in the cook-book, nor I suppose do you really and truly have the list of ingredients, nor quantities... but that's beside the point and only true pedants would point that out...

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The Portfolio

More than I can chew

OK. So here it is: a looming deadline of the 16th December, by when I have to submit a final portfolio of poems/writing that counts towards the first part of my MA in Creative Writing. The rules say it needs to be no more than 4,000 words or a collection of X...

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A Plateful of Girls and Queen

A Plateful of Girls and Queen

Reclining over a pale velvet bed

The most comfortable, but cool

Free I am, best-done, not a fool

Catching this tray full of eyes

Winking at me as though

Heralding a party, a dance and more

Or cajoling me into drowsiness

To put them wholly relaxed

...

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Longest Night; Howie Day

Is it dark, where you are?
Can you count the stars where you are?
Do you feel like you are a
thousand miles from home?

Are you lost, where you are?
Can you find your way when you're so far?
Do you fear, where you are?
A thousand nights alone

So here we are set into motion
We'll steal a car...

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Storm of Wild Roses (Early Work)

"I have seen the lambs bled dry,

My wife and child's lives taken,

By the hands of jealousy,

The lust for revenge starved,

I have seen an island,

Between life and death,

Where the forests call me,

To where my fate lies carved..."

 

The bitter north winds,

Rouse me from my dreams,

...

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Views: 3067