Singing as the Darkness Lifts 04/12/2023 (Episode 14)

Singing as the darkness lifts 04/12/2023

This morning the air smells clean. No notes of particular trees or grass, but perhaps the tiniest hint of evergreen leaves from low bushes. The rain continues and the temperature feels a little higher than the minus figures we have had lately.

Alt Text labels this week’s photo as A CLOSE UP OF A SOCK DOLL and once again it is correct! This is Sock Monkey, a brown and white stripey toy with a red thread mouth and two blue buttons for eyes. He was created one Christmas from the ‘make something all by yourself’ gift from my sister. He has real personality and perhaps explains why I didn’t choose to progress with needlework when I took my options at secondary school. I always look forward to his emergence from the Christmas Decorations box!

So, no fruit fly poems this week, but I have enjoyed my little delve into extra reading about these tiny creatures and I look forward to finding out what other insects might find their way into my poems in the future. There is already a poem about deathwatch beetles in my forthcoming collection and if you’ve read ‘Magnifying Glass’ you will already know about the ants and worms.

At the moment slightly larger animals are appearing in my poem drafts... a flying fox, a barn owl and a horse... all wanting to play different parts.

I treated myself to an Arvon workshop with Caroline Bird last week and it definitely lived up to the title – ‘infinite ways into writing poems’. As you probably already know, I love having ideas in my writing journal to come back to and now my journal has plenty of new starting points to keep me going. There were words of wisdom from Caroline regarding a poet’s continued writing about the things that are important to them. This resonated with my writing because there are particular themes that call out to be explored through different lenses, from other angles or from different depths.

I thoroughly enjoyed being at Black Bough’s most recent Open Mic Night. Ronnie came along and met Mr Bear and an Octopus, and it felt good to have some light-hearted laughter amongst welcoming poets. The format is one of supportive, friendly listening and allows the words to be held and enjoyed. A great group to be in.  Couldn’t have said it better than Ivor who said of the photograph of us all: “What a happy looking room full of poets! Don't worry folks, we still managed to fit in some moody, miserable and punchy poems.”

The evening resulted in a new way of referring to ‘There’s a Doll Thumping in My Chest’ when it became my ‘psycho Barbie’ poem, and I think it will continue to hold a special place within my poems as ‘the poem that helped me voice something about my voice’. It feels good to be writing beyond that too, and some of my newer work is evolving to speak about what comes after a silence. I am grateful to all the people who have been part of my coaching journey so far for giving me the time and space to explore my voice goals and my continued growth.

As my coaching journey continues I have been fortunate to connect with people who would like to join me in a zoom room for some pro bono coaching and I am feeling excited at moving on to this part of my work. Someone recently called a coaching space a brave space and I quite liked that idea. My coaching focuses on giving people a safe place to think, breathe and be. And having reflected on that lately I think it is a place for finding clarity. I like that kind of space myself and am proud to be able to provide it for others. I am currently enjoying setting things out on my website around this and have also enjoyed updating the site with the calendar photographs for December and updating the poems from me that are in focus this month. 

The film, ‘Anatomy of a Fall’ provided me with time out this week and I found myself completely immersed in it for two and a half hours. There is a wonderful feeling of re-emergence for me when I step out of the film at the end and I find it highly restorative. I took someone a Christmas present recently and forgot to put a bag of Percy Pigs in so these came to the cinema with me and I ate them all before the trailers had finished. If they were yours... thank you, and sorry!

Being a guest editor for Sidhe Press’s forthcoming anthology has been an absolute pleasure. I have always wanted to see what it feels like to receive poem submissions and play a part in the whole editing process. And now I am right in there... holding the words with respect and care, reading the poems out loud to see what they sound like in the air as well as in my head, wondering who has written the submission I am reading. Being part of a team for this has been invigorating and has shown me so much about how putting together a themed collection works and how valuable it is to meet together to discuss the poems that have been sent for consideration. It makes me view the submission process from a new angle and my admiration for editors has definitely increased even though I would say it was pretty high before I started this process. If you submitted, you can be assured you were read and heard and your words were held in high regard throughout.

I’ll leave you now with Rumplestiltskin as a companion to Rapunzel which is my chosen poem of the month for December on my website.

I am proud of the anagram names I gave Rumplestilskin in this poem and I hope you enjoy them!

RUMPLESTILTSKIN

 

I've had her necklace

and I've had her ring.

Her baby is next –

I'm Rumplestiltskin!

 

Midnight, mid-forest

the strange little man

grinning and singing,

dancing and spinning.

 

His voice rising like the grey wood smoke

higher and higher

wisping up and away as

stilled and silent I watched.

I swear I saw notes in the air!

 

No slowing at all

he danced on and on,

no notice he paid me

then I was gone

back to the room of gold

where you, my baby, my precious, slept.

 

For hours in days I had been tormented

while you breastfed, I had guessed and guessed again.

added to my list all the time you slept.

Started with ‘Muttonchops’ and ‘Lacedleg’,

used nicknames, pet names, biblical names.

 

Then in desperation I changed his gender:

Amelia, Felicity, Belinda.

 

When next he arrived whirling, I would win

he would not be my baby thief

I held you to me and wept, relieved.

 

Sir Still Unkempt you are!

I told him when he came.

I think I am ready now

I     shall     guess     your     name...

Are you Stinkerlumplist?

Plunkerslimtits?

Trinketslumlips?

                 Tinklerumsplit?

(With each name I said he became more red.)

I know you now Rumplestiltskin,

you strange and funny little man.

Harassed, embarrassed

he stomped and swore:

a titanic tantrum.

The ground creaked and cracked

and down he went.

 

A shout echoed:

I hate you!    I hate you!

Hate you!

 

Then he took in each hand

his curly-toed shoes

and tore himself

quite neatly in two.

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