I have always loved words that fox the mind, Words of the archaic or rare-used kind. My life-story is inenarrable. I can’t tell you stuff I’m not capable Of telling either if I’m deficient In apt terms, or secretly efficient In hiding things I dare not let you see In case perchance you think badly … More Does life bear telling, when what matters in life is inenarrable!
What if it were a Sandretto plastic injection moulding machine …? Some initial thoughts on first reading Matthew Rice’s Plastic. Perhaps the most intriguing poetry publication of this year is Matthew Rice’s volume, a narrative in a series of lyrics each dedicated to a single passing minute of a 12 hour night shift in a … More What if it were a Sandretto plastic injection moulding machine …? Some initial thoughts on first reading Matthew Rice’s ‘Plastic’.
Source: https://observer.co.uk/culture/books/article/the-sunday-poem-burning-car-by-andrew-mcmillan I suppose even physical clutter is the residue of memories, sometimes transmuted into obsessional and repetitive images – the better if repeated with a kind of nuance that varies each token from others in its type of memory. I use the words type and token as in philosophical metaphysics, explained in the link … More Memories clutter but are dangerous to seek to clear out sometimes.
You mostly remember the road trip you didn’t take only because the ‘other one’ is an illusion, ‘knowing how way leads on to way!’ First, let’s read the poem by Robert Frost once again! It is a well-trod road trip – by us and so many more. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry … More You mostly remember the road trip you didn’t take only because the ‘other one’ is an illusion, ‘knowing how way leads on to way!’
One line in a poem of complicated love between women, written to Brigid Brophy, by Iris Murdoch reads: ‘Don’t make of sex a basic category’. To her journal she committed the following reflection about herself: ‘It’s no good being a female queer, one must be a male one’: This is a blog on Murdoch’s Queer … More This is a blog on Murdoch’s Queer Poetry. Is it a layer of Queer History or the record of a Psychosocial Anomaly? It is based on Iris Murdoch (ed. Anne Rowe, Miles Leeson, Rachel Hirschler & Frances White) [2025] ‘Poems from an Attic: Selected Poems 1936 – 1995’
Reading ‘right now’ or reading forever! In truth I am reading a newly published book of poems by Iris Murdoch, and I think I would like to blog more seriously on them later. They are published as the result of a dusty box of manuscripts being found after searching the attic of the late home … More Reading ‘right now’ or reading forever!
To the memory of John Burnside and in dear friendship for Joanne, I contemplate. the poet’s posthumous lines: ‘and everything they loved / is erstwhile, in the empire of forgetting: / …’ [*] There is nothing that once were the objects of our lives that can be remembered in their entirety, hence the fact that … More To the memory of John Burnside and in dear friendship for Joanne, I contemplate. the poet’s posthumous lines: ‘and everything they loved / is erstwhile, in the empire of forgetting: / …’
‘The departed are yet to arrive / … / but the roads are all laid out: /’ [1] There is no ideal time to pay more attention to the details past than the death that inevitably defines a ‘life’ and picks out its salient meaning. This is a blog referring to a first reading of … More ‘The departed are yet to arrive / … / but the roads are all laid out: /’ There is no ideal time to pay more attention to the details past than the death that inevitably defines a ‘life’ and picks out its salient meaning. This is a blog referring to a first reading of Simon Armitage (2025) ‘New Cemetery’.
Somehow twilight at evening draws us to favour it. Why? After all it promises us nothing but the night, unless we hope to make the next day the first of the ‘rest of our life’! When I was a student at University College London, I used to find myself walking through Russell Square to and … More Somehow twilight at evening draws us to favour it. Why? After all it promises us nothing but the night, unless we hope to make the next day the first of the ‘rest of our life’!
From a film made to support schools teaching the poem Give by the BBC. See: https://www.bbc.co.uk/teach/class-clips-video/articles/znd7t39 I happened upon a word on a wallThat said just ‘Give’: Give what? I thought, I giveEnough in taxes, in support of those Who claim to suffer more than me. Who knows?If someone could write on walls can’t they … More What act suffices as an ‘act of kindness’? Or is that the wrong question? This is a blog that is partially about Simon Armitage’s ‘Give’, first published in a collection in ‘Dead Sea Poems’ (1995).
I bought Lode from the Left bookshop in Durham where Gillian Allnut herself works as a volunteer, and I read it through for the first time last night before attempting to ignore the heat and sleep. What buzzed through my mind together with the gorgeous complex rhythmic adventures and associations with recall from past great … More If I were a poet, then I might know how best to thank those who make life beautiful: Gillian Allnut thanks someone for showing her how to see the beauty of a ‘Golden Saxifrage’ and other kindness. This blog is about one poem in Gillian Allnut’s beautiful 2025 volume ‘Lode’. I wish I knew how to thank her.
It would be: ‘He tried to notice the underlying things!’ Is this a case in point: This blog looks at a discovered copy of the 75th anniversary issue of ‘Granta’ from 1964 [Volume 68, No 1233]. In it a poet speaks of another much earlier poet: ‘Going, he carefully left his words behind’. My husband … More It would be: ‘He tried to notice the underlying things!’ Is this a case in point?: This blog looks at a discovered copy of the 75th anniversary issue of ‘Granta’ from 1964 [Volume 68, No 1233].
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