I've been to Paris in between the last blog and now and could not resist sitting in a cafe in Montmartre jotting lines for a poem. Pretentious? I don't care! So it's time to finish this one (for the time being).
at this sharp end of the year scrawny hawthorn hedges scrape a living entwined with winter hardened briars whose cruel barbs rasp unwary hands and in the fields corn stubble scrapes and scratches with its yard-broom bristles on roadsides, frost makes grassy tussocks pointed spears where desperate blackbirds stab, stab hard earth beneath the beeches' printed outlines on sky-paper and only the snow drops, new comers to the scene, suggest a softer time to come.
A lot of little changes. I've also removed most of the punctuation. I hope that doesn't make it unreadable. Spring has obviously affected me because I also felt like arranging the words in this way. Probably very silly but it's my poem, after all.
I think this is improving. Sometimes you just don't know where you're going with a piece of writing.. Trees needs replacing with something more specific! I think they were, or some were, beeches but I need to look at a book of tree outlines to check.
at this sharp end of the year
scrawny hawthorn hedges scrape a living
entwined with winter hardened briars
whose cruel barbs rasp unwary hands.
And in the fields corn stubble
and scratches with its yard-broom
On roadsides, frost makes grassy
tussocks pointed spears
where desperate blackbirds stab,
stab hard earth
beneath trees’ stark printed outlines on white sky-paper
Quite a few changes. Sharp end of the year appeals, making use of a familiar phrase. Hawthorn and briar are more specific - and I'm now emphasising the sharp raw unpleasantness that this time of year can have. I think the idea of picking out all the 'sharp' words is going to go.
this is a sharp end of the year
stunted hedges scrape a living
hawthorn and briar thorns rasp the
and frost makes of grass tussocks
desperate blackbirds stab hard earth
corn stubble scratches ankles with
Some notes I made on my way to a school in Scarborough on Monday. They might make something - though nothing very springlike, I guess.
telegraph poles - stick trees - clear blue sky, newly washed - dry valleys - stunted hedges - trimmed one side of the road, otherwise unkempt - frost on verges - black birds but not necessarily blackbirds - ditches - brown stubble in fields beyond lik upturned yardbrooms - tractor tracks - dead leaves still hanging on - snowdrops dotted between trees - other birds, seagulls?
As I've been out and about, the writing blog has been a bit neglected. Some special sonnets had to be written, but they'll only appear here from time to time. And yesterday and Monday I was in schools working with Y3, Y4, Y8 and Y10. During which time we wrote lots of things, including some raps and some personal pieces. The Y3s made a great collaborative poem about Colours for a performance they are going to do next week. Good luck to you all - what a lovely group of kids. If I can get a copy of their poem, or rather our poem, I'll post it on the site.
And as soon as I get going on something of my own, I'll be back...