Tag: poem

I know what ‘gives pleasure’ can never be simple. Let’s consider how we react to the effect of words working together to evoke vision, sound, sensation and tangled meanings.

May 13, 2026

I met a poet in my favourite left bookshop yesterday, The People’s Bookshop in Durham City, and bought his book, Blooming Us. I was searching for more books by Bryher and he knew, as might be expected in someone intensely interested in the poetic movement called Imagism, of Bryher’s sometime lover, H.D. (Hilda Doolittle). I … More I know what ‘gives pleasure’ can never be simple. Let’s consider how we react to the effect of words working together to evoke vision, sound, sensation and tangled meanings.

At five, I still wanted to know that I would grow up, period. And not come to a full stop.

March 28, 2026

Whilst we like to think children have no conception of death, the evidence seems to be that from the age of 5 upwards, children begin to develop an idea of death as and end, of worldly life at least, though their views of this still contain elements of magical thinking as to cause of death … More At five, I still wanted to know that I would grow up, period. And not come to a full stop.

Does life bear telling, when what matters in life is inenarrable!

March 2, 2026

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’.

February 2, 2026

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’.

Memories clutter but are dangerous to seek to clear out sometimes.

January 12, 2026

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!’

January 8, 2026

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!’

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’

November 19, 2025

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’

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: / …’

November 6, 2025

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: /’ 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’.

September 30, 2025

‘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’!

August 18, 2025

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’!