Poetry

Sometimes someone else's words say what's in our mind. This is from Mary Oliver's 'Dogfish.'

'I wanted the past to go away,
I wanted
to leave it, like another country; I wanted
my life to close, and open
like a hinge, like a wing, like
the part of the song
where it falls
down over the rocks: an explosion,
a discovery;
I wanted
to hurry into the work of my life;
I wanted to know,
whoever I was, I was

alive
for a little while.'

Fourth funeral of the year

The Minister read out this poem at a funeral I went to on Tuesday. You can substitute 'he' for 'she'

You can shed tears that she is gone,
Or you can smile because she lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her
Or you can be full of the love that you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember her and only that she is gone,
Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on,
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,
Or you can do what she would want:
Smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

The sea

I must go down to the seas again,
To the lonely sea and the sky.
And all I ask is a fair ship
And a star to steer her by.
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking
And a grey mist on the sea's face and the grey dawn breaking.

From memory, I couldn't quite get it right. I looked it up. This is how it stands now. John Masefield. Something that would be good to do today, good to do on many days.

Launch Events

Last night I went to the Institute of Anthony Burgess on Cambridge Street in Manchester to attend the launches of two books of poetry published in their new 'Salt Modern Voices' range by Salt Publishing, Manchester. The two poets, Adrian Slatcher 'Playing Solitaire for Money' and JT Walsh 'Orchids' spoke and read from their works. With red and white wine and orange juice on offer, sitting in a ground floor room of an old mill with its expanse of restored brick walls, antique pieces of furniture and bookshelves it made for a very pleasant hour or two.
At first I wasn't sure I'd got the right place. The cafe was closed and it was only when I glimpsed people through an entranceway into the adjacent room that I realised, yes, this was the place. And very nice it is too. I'm definitely going to look what other events take place there.

But, back to this particular evening. Adrian, who I'd met years ago at a playwriting course held at the Manchester Language School in Didsbury (now that's a place I can wax lyrical on) invited me to the event.
It was extremely well run with an introduction, then Adrian speaking and reading exceptionally well and I liked the way his book of poetry moves through stages, particularly the personal poetry.
And then JT Walsh whose poetry and approach was different from Adrian's but equally well presented and read and evocative.

And what has this left me with? The desire to go to more such events.