Fiddling on with film

Hey hey, how’s it going?

I have a new filmpoem for you to look at – it’s VERY amateurish, hooray. I filmed my shadow at Hartlepool station when waiting for a train one morning. (Pretty soon I’m going to have a collection of work entirely created at Hartlepool station while waiting for trains). There are two soundtracks overlaid; one is a free download of wind chimes, the other is my annoying voice being much more boring-intoning-typical-poet than I’d like. Anyhoo, give it a look if you’d like 🙂

Even Though I Looked, Even Though I Listened

Oh, and the poem itself was written in response to work by Louise Bourgeois, during a workshop led by the rather super Lisa Matthews.

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A Day In Beadnell (virtually)

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There are days when I forget I enjoy writing poetry. To be honest, there are weeks, sometimes months, when I become my own administrator and my poetry gets completely
lost. That’s why it was such a joy to spend all of yesterday in the company of other poets, being led through a veritable barrage of multi-sensory prompts by Lisa Matthews and Melanie Ashby, the intrepid creative team behind the ongoing project A Year In Beadnell.

 

Strandling Feather

Whisht.

I’m not dead.

Shed.

I’m beak-nipped,

a preen-leaving,

winter-to-summer down-shrug,

for the fat pickings

in the glad months make

sleekitty plumage.

 

One feather

conjures the bird,

plumped on the nest-scrape

eggs sucked pebbles.

 

I’m plucked,

but still arched

from the puffling shook-out

of incubation.

Divested from the belly,

given to flight, I am

wind-bowled,

sand-skittering,

tumble-fluff,

fast flick of a soft brush,

my own

wing.