I had a go at several poems last night. At the moment I'm not that happy with any of them. I'm not at work tomorrow so will hopefully have the time to polish one enough to send it off.
Heaven for Lyn
We’ve never met in real life
so I can’t summon her up
as a physical presence for you
But she writes and believes in her characters
as if they can come right off the page
and follow you around the house talking
She keeps horses and loves dogs
especially the mongrel and unwanted ones
Bouncer is the latest in line
She’s Welsh. I can imagine the lilt
of mid Wales coming out as Lyn talks
and gestures with her hands which are small
Made to hold a pen although these days
she finds a computer faster
and there is that second novel to finish.
She does not declare her age
on her myspace page
which states she is ninety nine.
Bena and Edie
Sisters, my father’s aunts.
Although I called them aunt
they were already old when I was young.
But staying in their house on Salem Stryd
as a child I learned about how
to accommodate your life around obstacles
Edie, a cook, had worked in Windsor
before having to come home.
There was a story
that Bena had loved an airman
called Teddy but he died
in the war.
So Bena devoted herself
to the Sunday School, good works
and family history.
Edie made regular trips
over the road to the bookies
lent me Dick Francis thrillers
and always had time
Towards a model of poetry writing development
14 hours ago